The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood #13) - J. R. Ward Page 0,111

it had to be the enemy and not humans in pursuit.

Only slayers could run this fast, this far … and appear to have energy stores sufficient to keep going.

It was possible, he noted in the back of his mind, that he and his soldier might be in trouble.

THIRTY-FIVE

“The check has been taken care of.”

Trez paused in the process of taking his wallet out. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been taken care of.” The waiter smiled and bowed. “It has been our pleasure to serve you.”

Jesus, if he hadn’t known the guy was human, he’d have assumed one of Fritz’s staff had followed them here. The service had been phenomenal all night.

“Enjoy your cappuccinos at your leisure.”

Trez looked across at Selena. Her eyes were on the view again, but she was not smiling. Her perfect profile was cast in grave lines.

Reaching over, he took her hand in his, a spike of fear going through his chest. “You all right?”

Surreptitiously, he ducked into his coat and palmed up his cell phone.

“Oh, yes.” Except she didn’t look at him.

The soft patter of conversation around them dimmed down and the striding movements of the waiters disappeared from his periphery.

“Selena, what’s going on?”

“I don’t want it to be over.”

“We can come here again.”

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

As the restaurant continued to turn, turn, turn, the Commodore’s flank came around into view again, the building’s tall expanse speckled with random lights—including some in the penthouse.

Guess Rehv was in res.

Trez looked down at the coffee cup he hadn’t touched. The steam rising up was spiced with cinnamon, which he’d never been a fan of. He’d ordered it only because his queen didn’t seem to want to leave.

“It was so nice of them,” she murmured. “To pay for dinner.”

“I’ma take care of that when I get home.”

“You should let them be kind.”

Trez searched what he could see of her body, looking for signs that she was having problems that would require a quick call downstairs to Manny and Rhage.

“Selena?”

She shook herself and glanced over. “I’m sorry?”

“You want to order another dessert?”

“No.” She gave his hand another squeeze before releasing her hold and folding her napkin and placing it on the table. “Shall we?”

He popped out of his chair to help her so fast, the four feet squeaked over the glossy floor. “Here, let me—”

But his queen rose to a stand on her own with an elegant shift, her body perfectly stable, perfectly at ease. At least physically, that was. He could sense the weight of her mood.

Escorting her out, he was aware of the eyes of the room on them once again, hushed comments being uttered behind the rims of wineglasses and the squares of napkins as the humans tried to place them upon the grid of celebrity. There was satisfaction to be had in the fact that the peanut gallery would never be able to.

At the great glass doors, he opened one of the panels for her, and as she stepped through, she paused and stared over her shoulder, as if she were worried she would forget some nuance of the way the place looked or smelled or sounded.

“We can always come back,” he repeated.

“Oh, yes.”

She flashed a smile at him and continued out into that minimalist open space where the elevators were. Going ahead, he hit the down button and then stood next to her, putting his hand on the small of her back.

“So where do you want to go next?” he asked.

“You mean tonight? I’m rather tired—”

“No. Tomorrow night.”

She glanced over at him. “I…”

“Come on. Give me the next destination so I can get things ready for sundown tomorrow.”

The elevator doors opened, and he urged her inside—and he was so focused on her, he barely noticed that hideous glass wall that was open to the lobby. Pressing the L button, he stroked Selena’s shoulder.

“So…?” When she didn’t reply, he leaned in and kissed the side of her throat. “This is not the only night we’re going to have.”

“How do you know that.” She met his eyes. “I don’t want to ruin this, but how do you know?”

“Because I won’t have it any other way.”

Turning her to face him, he deliberately put his hips against her body and dropped his lips to hers. “Unless you’re sick of me. Or seriously unimpressed by my being a vertical pussy.”

Her eyes seemed very blue and very scared as they met his. “Boat.”

He’d expected something else. “I’m sorry?”

“I, ah, I want to go on a boat ride on the river.”

“Fast or