Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood 7)

He dropped his hands onto the arms of the spindly, fragile chair, and they dwarfed the supports. The piece of furniture was more on the scale of something a female would perch on to take off her stockings at the end of the night.

It was not a throne. Which was why he used it.

He hadn't wanted to accept the crown on many levels, having been king by birthright but not inclination or actuality for three hundred years. But then Beth had come along and things had changed and he'd finally gone to the Scribe Virgin.

That had been two years ago. Two springs and two summers and two autumns and two winters.

He'd had great plans back then, in the beginning. Great, wonderful plans for bringing the Brotherhood together, getting everyone under one roof, consolidating forces, shoring up against the Lessening Society. Winning.

Saving.

Reclaiming.

Instead, the glymera had been slaughtered. More civilians were dead. And there were even fewer Brothers.

They hadn't made progress. They'd lost ground.

Rhage poked his head in again. "We're all still out here."

"Goddamn it, I told you I needed some-"

The grandfather clock chimed again, and as Wrath listened to the number of beats, he realized he'd been sitting by himself for an hour.

He rubbed his aching eyes. "Give me another minute."

"Whatever you need, my lord. Just take your time."

Chapter THIRTEEN

As Rehvenge's hi came through the phone, Ehlena sat up from the pillow she'd been lying against and swallowed back a holy crap... except then she wondered why she was so surprised. She'd called him, and the textbook way people handled those kind of things was...well, hey, they called you back. Wow.

"Hi," she said.

"I didn't answer your call only because I didn't know the number."

Man, his voice was sexy. Deep. Low. Like a male's should be.

In the silence that followed, she thought, and she had called him why? Oh, right. "I wanted to follow up about your appointment. When I did your discharge papers, I noticed that you received nothing for your arm."

"Ah."

The pause that followed was one she couldn't interpret. Maybe he was pissed she was interfering? "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Do you do this with patients a lot?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Havers know you're checking his work?"

"Did he even look at your veins?"

Rehvenge's laugh was low. "I would rather you had called for a different reason."

"I don't understand," she said tightly.

"What? That someone might want to have something to do with you outside of work? You're not blind. You've seen yourself in mirrors. And surely you know you're smart, so it's not all just pretty window dressing."

As far as she was concerned, he was speaking in a foreign language. "I don't understand why you're not taking care of yourself."

"Hmmm." He laughed softly, and she felt the purr as well as heard it in her ear. "Oh...so maybe this is a pretense just so I can see you again."

"Look, the only reason I called was-"

"Because you needed an excuse. You shut me down in the exam room, but really wanted to talk to me. So you called about my arm to get me on the phone. And now you have me." That voice dropped even lower. "Do I get to pick what you do with me?"

She stayed quiet. Until he said, "Hello?"

"Are you finished? Or do you want to run around in circles a little longer, reading into what I'm doing here?"

There was a beat of silence, and then he broke out in a rich baritone belly laugh. "I knew there was more than one reason I liked you."

She refused to be charmed. And was anyway. "I called about your arm. Period. My father's nurse just left, and she and I were talking about his..."

She clammed up as she realized what she'd revealed, feeling like she'd tripped on the conversational equivalent of an untacked carpet edge.

"Go on," he said with gravity. "Please.

"Ehlena? Ehlena...

"Are you there, Ehlena?"

Later, much later, she would reflect that those four words were the precipice. Are you there, Ehlena?

Truly it was the beginning of everything that followed, the starting line of a harrowing journey disguised in the form of a simple question.

She was glad she didn't know where it would take her. Because sometimes the only thing that got you through hell was that you were in too deep to pull out.

While Rehv waited for a response, his fist tightened on the cell phone so hard, it cranked in toward his cheek and one of the keys let out a beep of, Hey, man, lay off a little.

The electronic curse seemed to break the spell for them both.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay. I, ah..."

"You were saying?"

He didn't expect her to answer, but then...she did. "My father's nurse and I were talking about a cut he's having trouble with, and that's what made me think of your arm."

"Your father is ill?"

"Yes."

Rehv waited for more, trying to decide whether prompting her would shut her up-but she solved the issue.

"Some of the medications he takes make him unsteady, so he bumps into things and doesn't always know he's hurt himself. It's a problem."

"I'm sorry. Caring for him must be hard on you."

"I'm a nurse."

"And a daughter."

"So it was clinical. When I called you."

Rehv smiled. "Let me ask you something."

"Me first. Why won't you get your arm looked at? And don't tell me Havers saw those veins. If he had, he would have prescribed you antibiotics, and if you refused them there would have been a note in your chart that you'd pulled an AMA. Look, all you need to treat it is some pills, and I know you're not medicine phobic. You take a hell of a lot of dopamine."

"If you were worried about my arm, why didn't you just talk to me at the clinic?"

"I did, remember."

"Not like this." Rehv smiled in the dark and ran his hand up and down the mink duvet. He couldn't feel it, but he imagined the pelts were as soft as her hair. "I still think you wanted to get me on the phone."

The pause that followed made him worry she was going to pull out of the call.

He sat up, like getting vertical would keep her from hitting her end button. "I'm only saying...well, shit, my point is, I'm glad you called. Whatever the reason."

"I didn't talk to you at the clinic about it any further because you left before I entered Havers's notes into the computer. That's when it all sank in."

He still wasn't buying that the call was completely professional. She could have e-mailed him. She could have told the doctor. Could have turfed it to one of the day nurses to follow up.

"So there's no chance you feel bad for slamming me down as hard as you did?"

She cleared her throat. "I am sorry for that."

"Well, I forgive you. Totally. Completely. You looked like you were not having a great night."

Her exhale was exhaustion made manifest. "Yeah, it wasn't my best."

"Why?"

Another long pause. "You are much better over the phone, you know that?"

He laughed. "Much better how?"

"Easier to talk to. You're actually...pretty easy to talk to."

"I do okay with the one-on-one."

Abruptly he frowned, thinking of the bookie he'd tuned up out in the office. Shit, that poor bastard was just one in a huge number of drug dealers and Vegas lackeys and bartenders and pimps he'd beaten into conversating over the years. His philosophy had always been that confession was good for the soul, especially when it came to scumbags who thought he wouldn't notice they were f**king him. His management style also sent an important message in a business where weakness got you killed: Back-alley commerce required a strong hand, and he'd always believed that was just the reality in which he lived.

Now though, in this quiet time, with Ehlena so close, he felt like his "one-on-ones" were something to apologize for and conceal.

"So why was tonight not so good?" he asked, desperate to shut himself the f**k up.

"My father. And then...well, I got stood up."

Rehv frowned so hard he actually felt a slight sting between his eyes. "For a date?"

"Yeah."

He hated the idea of her out with another male. And yet envied the motherfucker, whoever he was. "What an ass. I'm sorry, but what an ass."