He shrugged. "This and that."
The waiters brought their appetizers. Bride sat back and watched as Vane set about eating. He looked regal and refined as he ate in the traditional European manner.
"You know, for someone who grew up in a commune, you have impeccable manners."
A deep, dark sadness came over him. "My sister taught me. She said well, she felt that people should eat as people and not animals."
Bride heard his voice break as he spoke of his sister. It was obvious that his sister meant a lot to him. "Where is she now?"
His sadness increased tenfold as he swallowed. The pain in his eyes was so profound that it made her ache for him. "She died a few months ago."
"Oh, Vane, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, me, too." He cleared his throat.
Her heart breaking for him, Bride reached out and brushed her fingers against his cheek to offer him comfort. He turned his face into her arm and kissed the inside of her wrist.
The look in his feral eyes made her quiver.
"You're so soft," he breathed, then kissed her hand and moved slightly away from her. "If I keep smelling you, we might make a spectacle here tonight."
"What kind of spectacle?"
"I just might toss you over my shoulder and carry you out of here so that I can ravish you again."
She laughed at the thought. "Would you really?"
She saw the raw, ragged truth in his eyes. "I would if you'd let me."
Bride retreated to her side of the table and they spent the rest of the meal in idle, safe chitchat. Vane was witty and warm. A rare treat.
Once they had polished off dinner and dessert, they made their way back downstairs where she saw Taylor and his date sitting outside the kitchen door.
Neither one of them looked pleased.
"You are so bad, Vane," she said again, laughing at the sight of them.
"Hey, that's kind compared to what I want to do to him. At least this way, he's still breathing."
Henri bid them good night as they left and headed back toward her home.
"Do you mind walking?" she asked him. "It's really nice out tonight."
"Walking doesn't bother me."
She took his hand and led him toward Iberville.
Vane watched the way the moonlight played in the tendrils of her auburn hair and reflected off the beaded choker he'd bought her. Her dress set her curves off to perfection and the halter top reminded him just how easy it would be to slide his hand inside it and cup her breast gently in his palm.
His groin tightened. Over and over he remembered what she had felt like.
How warm and tender her caresses had been.
He craved that now. The wolf in him was howling for a taste of her.
Bride was a bit nervous from Vane's intense stare. There was something animalistic about it. Devouring. There were times when she was with him that she felt like prey to his predatorial nature. They didn't speak much as they walked back to her apartment. At the gate, she called for her wolf.
"You don't think they picked him up, do you?"