her mind, the scene complete with a full moon and bats flying overhead.
The electric hum of aggression buzzing amid the grief hanging in the air affected her now the same way it had yesterday, and earlier at the church. She felt ill. She reached out to give his fingers a squeeze but didn’t offer any meaningless words, because really, how could they help? She simply wanted to let him know she could see he was hurting.
He looked down at the connection and then back up at her when she let go. “It appeared as though you were leaving us.”
She gripped her bag tighter. “Yes. I have to get to the gallery. I have a show—”
He brought his hand up to stroke his thumb down her throat. Her thoughts scattered. “Thank you for being here.” It was as if he hadn’t heard her talking. “Your presence was a balm.”
A balm? Who talked like that? It was no wonder her back-alley brain didn’t know what to make of him. The way he moved, the way he spoke; he was deliberate to the point of appearing austere, and most people responded to that by being cowed.
Two years ago, she’d responded to it by having hours-long sex with him the same night they’d met. Call her classy.
Uncomfortable with his intimate gesture in so public a place, or more specifically, her body’s reaction to it, she stepped back, just as an employee came forward with her coat. She didn’t care how he’d known which was hers anymore, she was just glad she was that much closer to getting out of there.
But before she could get her hands on the black poncho-style faux fur, Lucian had it and was holding it up for her to slip into. After she had switched her bag from hand to hand so she could slip her arms through the slits, Mr. Touchy-Feely turned her by the shoulders and brought the soft lapels together under her chin. He tightened his hold and pulled her up as his head came down. His warm lips landed on the swell of her cheek. She heard him inhale quietly, didn’t feel a kiss, and then he was releasing her and Sorin was coming up next to them with two small glasses. She hadn’t seen him leave.
Lucian took the crystal filled with an amber liquid that matched his eyes and handed her one. He held his up, and feeling obligated, she touched them together. The chime was pretty.
“To my dead brother.”
Balking, she had trouble swallowing the fiery liquor. Not because it was straight alcohol, but because it was as if, with his words, he’d wanted to twist the knife by being cruel. To himself.
He took her empty glass as she tried to hide a shudder because she really wasn’t accustomed to shooting expensive brandy. “Now you may leave. Sorin will take you down to the car. My driver is waiting.”
“Oh, no. That’s okay.” Warmth was spreading through her chest. She looked at the glasses he was handing off to a waiter and wondered how much money she’d just consumed. “I’ll get a cab.”
“It has already been taken care of, draga. My driver is waiting.” He nodded at Sorin, who took her elbow and led her away.
She wanted to look back. She wanted to repeat the offer she’d made yesterday, to remind him that if he needed company, all he had to do was call and she’d meet him for a drink or dinner. She wanted to go back and hug him until he felt better able to cope. She just wanted to touch him.
She did none of those things because she knew this was going to end the same way it had the last time. She wouldn’t see him again.
“You don’t have to walk me out,” she said to Sorin. She wouldn’t be upset by this, she vowed as she placed a hand over her tight chest. Not again. “I’ll get that cab. That way his car will be available when he’s ready to escape.”
“This is why you attempt to refuse his offer?” Sorin said without looking at her.
She shrugged. “I figure he’s going to want to get out of there sooner rather than later. If his car is in Queens, he’ll be stuck.” She hugged her coat around her as they took the curved staircase to the first floor. Blinking, she reached for the railing when the world tilted. Sorin took her arm, but it was for nothing because everything evened out again when they