Lover Reborn

Fantastic.

He picked up his napkin, snapped it free of its elaborate fold, and—

Everyone was looking at him and No’One. The Brotherhood. Their shellans. Even the doggen who had yet to start serving.

“What,” he muttered, as he laid the damask across his lap.

Annnnd that was when he realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And No’One hadn’t put up her hood.

Hard to know who was getting more attention. Probably her, as most folks hadn’t seen her without her face covered—

Before he knew it, his upper lip curled off his elongated fangs, and he met each one of the males in the eye, hissing at them low and nasty. In spite of the fact that they were all happily mated. And his brothers. And he had no right to be territorial.

Lot of brows went up. A couple of folks asked for another shot of whatever they were drinking. Someone started whistling casually.

As No’One quickly put her hood back into place, awkward conversations about the weather and sports sprouted.

Tohr just rubbed his temples. Hard to know what was giving him his headache.

There was so much to choose from.

In the end, the meal passed by without further incident. Then again, short of a food fight or a fire in the kitchen, it was hard to imagine what could have been a worthy second act to his playing rattlesnake at the Brotherhood.

When things broke up, he and No’One beat feet out of the dining room—but not for the same reason, evidently.

“I have to go to work now,” she said as they came up to the staircase. “I was gone all evening.”

“You can catch up at nightfall.”

“That wouldn’t be right.”

As he found himself on the verge of telling her she should go to bed instead, he realized that in the last few months, No’One had spent time only with him: Yeah, sure, she had worked, but she did that alone, and at meals she stayed quiet.

Come to think of it, when they were upstairs, they were either hitting it or asleep. So she didn’t really interact with him, either.

“Where did you and Xhex go?”

“All over. Down to the river. Into town.”

He closed his eyes briefly at the “into town” bit. And then had to wonder why he had never taken her anywhere. Whenever he was off rotation, he was down in the gym or reading in bed, waiting for her to be done. It had never dawned on him to do anything with her out in the world.

That’s because you’ve been hiding her as best you can, his conscience pointed out.

Whatever. She was always working—

“Hey, wait a minute, why don’t you get any evenings off?” he demanded with a frown as he did the math. Shit, what the hell was that butler doing, working this female to the bone—

“Oh, I do, but I never take them. I don’t like to simply sit around.”

Tohr rubbed an eyebrow with his thumb.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured, “I’ll go down to the training center and get started now.”

“When will you be finished.”

“Probably about four in the afternoon.”

“Okay.” As she turned away, he put a hand on her forearm. “Ah, listen, if you go into the locker room during daylight hours, always knock and announce yourself, ’kay?”

The last thing anyone needed was her getting a gander at one of his naked brothers.

“Oh, of course. I always do.”

As she disappeared around the corner, he watched her go, her limping form carrying an innate dignity that he abruptly felt he hadn’t been honoring.

“We have a date, remember?”

Glancing to the right, he shook his head at Lassiter. “Not in the mood.”

“Tough shit. Come on—I’ve got it all set up.”

“Look, no offense, but I’m not good company now—”

“When are you ever?”

“I really don’t—”

“Blah, blah, blah. Shut the fuck up and get your ass in gear.”

As the angel grabbed hold and pulled, Tohr gave up the fight and allowed himself to be dragged up the staircase and down the hall of statues—and out the other side. They went past his room, past the boys’ rooms, past Z and Bella and Nalla’s suite. Out into the staff quarters. Over to the entrance to the movie theater.

Tohr stopped dead. “If this is another Beaches marathon, I’m going to Bette your ass until you can’t sit down.”

“Aw, look at you! Trying to be finny.”

“Seriously, if you have any compassion in you at all, you’ll let me go to bed—”

“I have peanut M&M’s up there.”

“Not my style.”

“Raisinets.”

“Feh.”

“Sam Adams.”

Tohr narrowed his eyes. “Cold?”

“Downright icy.”

Tohr crossed his arms over his chest and told himself he was not pouting like a five-year-old. “I want Milk Duds.”

“Got ’em. And popcorn.”

With a curse, Tohr yanked open the door and ascended into the dimly lit red cave. The angel made everything seamless once they got up there: Deep-dish ass palaces engaged. Sam Adams with backups on the floor in a bucket with ice. An embarrassing caloric display with, yup, a yellow box of Milk Duds. And the damn popcorn.

They sat down side by side, and kicked up the footrests.

“Tell me this isn’t a fifties-era sex-ed film,” Tohr muttered.

“Nah. Popcorn?” the angel said as he hit play and offered a bowl. “Extra butter— the good plastic kind, too. Not that bullshit real cow crap.”

“I’m okay right now.”

Up on the screen, some movie studio’s intro played along with a bunch of credits. And then there were two old people sitting on a couch. Talking.

Tohr took a pull of his beer. “What the hell is this?”

“When Harry Met Sally.”

Tohr lowered the longneck from his mouth. “What?”

“Shut it. After this, we’re going to watch an episode of Moonlighting. Then An Affair to Remember—the old-school one, not that stupidity with Warren Beatty. Then The Princess Bride—”

Tohr hit the switch by his hip and straightened the chair up. “Okay. Right. Have fun with this—”

Lassiter hit pause and clamped a hard hand on his shoulder. “Sit the fuck back. Watch and learn.”

“What? How much I hate rom-coms? How ’bout we just stipulate that and let me go.”

“You’re going to need this.”

“For my second career as a pussy?”