room, the beautiful table that had been set for them was a surprise. There were flowers in the center, tuberoses and orchids. And ivory candles. And gleaming china and silver.
Wrath went around and pulled out a chair, waiting for her to sit in it. Looming over the thing.
God, he looked fantastic in the suit. And the open collar of his shirt showed off his throat, the black silk making his skin look tanned. Too bad he was flat-out pissed. His face was as harsh as his temper, and with his hair pulled back, the aggressive thrust of his jaw was even more prominent.
Something had set him off. Big-time.
Perfect date material , she thought. A vampire with the social equivalent of road rage.
She approached cautiously. As he slid the seat under her, she could have sworn he bent down to her hair and inhaled deeply.
“Why were you so late?” he demanded while sitting at the head of the table. When she didn't answer, he cocked an eyebrow at her, the dark arch rising over the rim of his black sunglasses. “Did Fritz have to talk you into coming?”
To give herself something to do, she took her napkin and unfolded it in her lap. “It was nothing like that.”
“So tell me what it was.”
“Butch followed us. We had to wait until we got free of him.”
She sensed the space around Wrath darkening as if his anger sucked the light right out of the air.
Fritz came in with two small plates of salad. He put them down.
“Wine?” he asked.
Wrath nodded.
After the butler had finished pouring and left, she picked up a heavy silver fork and forced herself to eat.
“Why are you afraid of me now?” Wrath's voice was sardonic, as if he were bored by her fear.
She jabbed at the greens. “Hmmm. Could it be because you look like you want to strangle someone?”
“You walked into this house scared of me again. Before you even saw me, you were frightened. I want to know why.”
She kept her eyes on her plate. “Maybe I was reminded that last night you almost killed a friend of mine.”
“Christ, not that again.”
“You asked,” she shot back. “Don't get mad if you don't like my answer.”
Wrath wiped his mouth impatiently. “I didn't kill him, did I?”
“Only because I stopped you.”
“And that bothers you? Most people like to be heroes.”
She put her fork down. “You know what? I don't want to be here with you right now.”
He kept eating. “So why did you come?”
“Because you asked me to!”
“Believe me, I can handle the rejection.” As if she were of no concern to him whatsoever.
“This was a mistake.” She put her napkin down next to her plate and stood.
He cursed. “Sit down.”
“Don't tell me what to do.”
“Let me amend that. Sit down and shut up.”
She gaped at him. “You arrogant ass—”
“Someone's already called me that tonight, thank you very much.”
Fritz picked that moment to breeze in with some warm rolls.
She glared at Wrath and pretended she was only reaching across the table for the wine bottle. She wasn't about to march off in front of Fritz. And besides, she suddenly felt like sticking around.
So she could yell at Wrath a little longer.
When they were alone again, she hissed, “Where do you get off talking to me like that?”
He took a final bite of salad, placed his fork on the edge of his plate, and dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. Like he'd been trained by Emily Post herself.
“Let's get one thing straight,” he said. “You need me. So get over your hangups about what I might have done to that cop. Your good buddy Butch is still above ground, right? So what's the problem?”
Beth stared at him, trying to read through his sunglasses, searching for some softness, something she could connect to. But the dark lenses shut her out of his eyes completely, and the tight lines of his face gave her nothing to go on.
“How can life mean so little to you?” she wondered aloud.
The smile he gave her was cold. “How can death mean so much to you?”
Beth sank back in her chair. Cringed from him, was more like it. She couldn't believe she'd made love—no, had sex—with him. He was utterly callous.
Abruptly, her heart hurt. Not because he was being hard on her, but because she was disappointed. She'd really wanted him to be different than he appeared. She'd wanted to believe the flashes of warmth he'd shown her were as big a part