Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

Wrath was in a bad mood, and he knew this because the sound of the doggen waxing the wooden balustrade at the top of the main staircase was making him want to light the whole fucking mansion on fire.

Beth was on his mind. Which explained why as he sat behind his desk his chest was killing him.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why she'd gotten upset with him. And it wasn't that he didn't think he deserved some kind of punishment. He just hated the fact that Beth wasn't sleeping at home and he had to text his shellan for permission to call her.

The fact that he hadn't slept in days had to be part of the pissed-off as well.

And he probably needed to feed. But like sex, it had been so long since he'd done it, he could barely remember what it was.

He glanced around the study and wished he could self-medicate the urge to scream by going out and fighting something: His only other options were hitting the gym or getting drunk, and he was just back from the former and not all that interested in the latter.

He checked his phone again. Beth hadn't returned his text, and he'd left it three hours ago. Which was fine. She was probably just busy, or sleeping.

The hell it was fine.

He got to his feet, slipped his RAZR into the back pocket of his leathers, and headed for the double doors. The doggen just outside in the hall was putting a ton of elbow grease into the buff-and-polish routine, and the fresh smell of lemon that rose from his efforts was thick.

"My lord," the doggen said, bowing low.

"You're doing great work."

"As is my pleasure." The male beamed. "It is my joy to serve you and your household."

Wrath clapped a palm on the servant's shoulder and then jogged down the stairs. When he got to the foyer's mosaic floor, he went left, toward the kitchen, and he was glad that there was nobody inside. Opening up the refrigerator, he confronted all manner of leftovers and took out a half-eaten turkey with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

Turning toward the cabinets-

"Hi."

He jerked his head over his shoulder. "Beth? What are...I thought you were at Safe Place."

"I was. But I came back just now."

He frowned. As a half-breed, Beth was able to tolerate sunlight, but he stressed the fuck out every time she traveled during the day. Not that he went into it now. She knew how he felt, and besides, she was home, and that was all that mattered.

"I was making something to eat," he said, even though the turkey sitting on the butcher-block table was a dead giveaway. "You want to join me?"

God, he loved the way she smelled. Night-blooming roses. Homier to him than any lemon polish, more gorgeous than any perfume.

"How about I make something for both of us?" she said. "You look like you're about to fall down."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, Nah, I'm tight, when he stopped. Even the smallest of half-truths was going to underscore the issues between them-and the fact that he was utterly exhausted wasn't even a little lie.

"That would be great. Thank you."

"Have a seat," she said, coming over to him.

He wanted to hug her.

He did.

Wrath's arms just snapped out, latched onto her, and pulled her against his chest. Realizing what he'd done, he went to let her go, but she stayed with him, keeping their bodies together. With a shudder, he dropped his head down into her fragrant, silky hair and gathered her up, molding her softness to the contours of his hard muscles.

"I've missed you so much," he said.

"I've missed you, too."

As she sagged against him, he wasn't a fool to think this moment was an instant cure-all, but he would take what he had been given.

Pulling back, he moved his wraparounds up onto the top of his head so she could see his useless eyes. To him, her face was blurry and beautiful, though the fresh-rain scent of tears didn't please him. He brushed both her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Will you let me kiss you?" he asked.

When she nodded, he cradled her face in his palms and brought his mouth down to hers. The cushioned contact was at once utterly, heartbreakingly familiar and yet something from the past. It seemed like forever since they had done more than peck-and that separation wasn't just what he'd done. It was everything. The war. The Brothers. The glymera. John and Tohr. This household.

Shaking his head, he said, "Life has gotten in the way of our life."

"You are so right." She smoothed her palm down his face. "It's also gotten in the way of your health. So I want you to sit down over there and let me feed you."

"It's supposed to be the other way around. The male feeds his female."

"You're the king." She smiled. "You make the rules. And your shellan would like to wait on you."

"I love you." He pulled her in tight again and just held on to his mate. "You don't have to say it back-"

"I love you, too."

Now he was the one sagging.

"Time for you to eat," she said, tugging him over to the country-style oak table and pulling a chair out for him.

When he parked it, he winced, shifted his hips up, and took his cell phone from his pocket. The thing skittered across the table, bumping into the salt and pepper shakers.

"Sandwich?" Beth asked.

"That'd be great."

"Let's make it two for you."

Wrath put his sunglasses back in place, because the overhead light was making his head pound. When that didn't go far enough, he closed his eyes, and although he couldn't see Beth move around, the sounds of her in the kitchen calmed him like a lullaby. He heard her opening drawers, the utensils in them rattling. Then the refrigerator cracked open with a gasp and there was shuffling, followed by glass knocking into glass. The bread drawer was slid out and the plastic wrap around the rye he liked rustled. There was the cracking of a knife going through lettuce...

"Wrath?"

The soft sound of his name brought his lids open and his head up. "Wha...?"

"You fell asleep." His shellan's hand smoothed over his hair. "Eat. Then I'm taking you to bed."

The sandwiches were exactly the way he liked them: overstuffed with meat, light on the lettuce and the tomatoes, plenty of mayo. He ate both of them, and though they should have perked him up, the exhaustion that had a death grip on his body just pulled harder.

"Come on, let's go." Beth took his hand.

"No, wait," he said, rousing himself. "I need to tell you what's doing at nightfall tonight."

"Okay." Tension crept into her tone, like she was bracing herself.

"Sit. Please."

The chair pulled out from under the table with a squeak and she settled her weight slowly. "I'm glad you're being up front with me," she murmured. "Whatever it is."

Wrath smoothed her fingers with his, trying to calm her, knowing that what he had to say was only going to make her more worried. "Someone...well, likely more than one, but at least one we know of, wants to kill me." Her hand tightened in his, and he kept on stroking her, trying to relax her. "I'm meeting with the glymera's council tonight, and I'm expecting...problems. All of the Brothers are going with me, and we're not going to be stupid, but I'm not going to lie and tell you this is a garden-variety sitch."

"This...someone...is obviously part of the council, right? So is it worth your going in person?"

"The one who started it all is a nonissue."

"How so?"

"Rehvenge had him assassinated."

Her hands tightened again. "Jesus..." She took a deep breath. And another. "Oh...dear God."

"The question we're all wondering now is, who else is in on it? That's part of the reason my showing up at that meeting is so important. It's also a show of strength, and that matters. I don't run. Neither do the Brothers."

Wrath braced himself for her to say, No, don't go, and wondered what he would do then.

Except Beth's voice was calm. "I understand. But I have a request."

His brows popped up over his wraparounds. "Which is?"

"I want you to wear a bulletproof vest. It's not that I doubt the Brothers-it's just that it would give me a little added comfort."

Wrath blinked. Then he brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. "I can do that. For you, I can absolutely do that."

She nodded once and rose from the chair. "Okay. Okay...good. Now, come, let's go to bed. I'm as exhausted as you look."

Wrath rose to his feet, tucked her against him, and together they walked out into the foyer, their feet crossing over the mosaic of an apple tree in bloom.

"I love you," he said. "I am so in love with you."

Beth's arm tightened around his waist and she put her face on his chest. The acrid, smoky scent of fear rose up from her, clouding her natural rose fragrance. And yet even so, she nodded and said, "Your queen doesn't run, either, you know."

"I know. I...totally know."

In his bedroom at his mother's safe house, Rehv pushed his body back until he was lying against the pillows. As he arranged his sable coat across his knees, he said into his cell, "I have an idea. How about we start this phone call over."

Ehlena's soft laugh made him feel strangely buoyant. "Okay. Are you going to call me again or..."

"Tell me this, where are you?"

"Upstairs in the kitchen."

Which might explain the slight echo. "Can you go to your room? Get relaxed?"

"Is this going to be a long conversation?"

"Well, I've rethought my tone, and check this out." He dropped his voice, going total lothario. "Please, Ehlena. Go to your bed, and take me with you."

Her breath caught and then she laughed again. "What an improvement."

"I know, right-lest you think I don't take direction well. Now, how about you return the favor. Go to your bedroom and get comfortable. I don't want to be alone, and I get the sense you don't either."

Instead of an, It's true, he heard the gratifying sound of a chair being pushed back. As she moved around, her dim footfalls were lovely, the creaking stairs not-because the sound made him wonder where exactly she lived with her father. He hoped it was an antique house with old, quaint boards, not something run-down.

There was the squeak of a door opening and a pause, and he was willing to bet she was checking on her father.

"Is he sleeping soundly?" Rehv asked.

The hinges rasped again. "How did you know?"

"Because you're good like that."

There was another door noise and then the click of a lock getting flipped into place. "Will you give me a minute?"

A minute? Shit, he'd give her the world if he could. "Take your time."

There was a muffled sound, as if she'd put the phone down on a duvet or a quilt. More door protests. Silence. Another squeak and the faded gurgle of a toilet flushing. Footfalls. Bedsprings. Rustling close by and then-

"Hello?"

"Comfortable?" he said, aware he was grinning like an idiot-except God, the idea that she was where he wanted her to be was fantastic.

"Yes, I am. Are you?"

"You'd better believe it." Then again, with her voice in his ear, he could have been in the process of getting his fingernails pulled off and still been all jolly-jolly.

The silence that followed was as soft as the sable of his coat, and just as warm.

"Do you want to talk about your mom?" she said gently.

"Yes. Even though I don't know what to say, other than that she went quietly and with her family around her, and that's all anyone can ask for. It was her time."

"You'll miss her, though."

"Yes. I will."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Let me take care of you."

She laughed quietly. "Right. How about I clue you in on something. In this kind of situation, you're the one who's supposed to be taken care of."

"But we both know that I was what cost you your job-"

"Hold up." There was another rustle, as if she'd just sat up from her pillows. "I made the choice to bring you those pills, and I'm an adult capable of making the wrong call. You don't owe me because I messed up."

"I disagree with you completely. But putting that aside, I'm going to talk to Havers when he comes here to-"

"No, you're not. Dear Lord, Rehvenge, your mother's just passed. You don't need to worry about-"

"What I can do for her is done. Let me help you. I can talk to Havers-"

"It's not going to make a difference. He's not going to trust me anymore, and I can't blame him."

"But people make mistakes."

"And some cannot be remedied."

"I don't believe that." Although as a symphath, he was not exactly anyone's go-to guy on moral shit. Not by a long shot. "Especially when it's you we're talking about."

"I'm no different from anybody else."

"Look, don't make me bust out my tone again," he warned. "You did something for me. I want to do something for you. It's simple barter and exchange."

"But I'm going to get another job, and I've been making things work for a long time on my own. It happens to be one of my core competencies."

"I don't doubt it." He paused for effect, playing the best card he had. "Here's the thing though, you can't leave me with this on my conscience. It's going to eat me up inside. Your bad choice was the result of mine."

She laughed softly. "Why does it not surprise me that you know my weakness? And I really appreciate it, but if Havers bends the rules for me, what kind of message does that send out? He and Catya, my supervisor, have already announced it to the rest of the staff. He can't go back now, nor would I want him to just because you strong-armed him."

Well, shit, Rehv thought. He'd been planning on manipulating Havers's mind, but that wouldn't take care of all the other folks who worked at the clinic, would it.

"Okay, then let me help you until you have your feet back under you."

"Thank you, but-"

He wanted to curse. "I have an idea. Meet me tonight at my place and we'll argue about it?"

"Rehv-"

"Excellent. I have to tend to my mother early in the evening, and I have a meeting to go to at midnight. How's three a.m. sound? Wonderful-I'll see you then."

There was a heartbeat of silence and then she chuckled. "You always get what you want, don't you."

"Pretty much."

"Fine. Three o'clock tonight."

"I'm so happy I changed my tone, aren't you?"

They both laughed, the tension draining from the connection as if it had been flushed out.

When there was a rustle again, he took it to mean she was lying back down and getting comfortable once more.

"So can I tell you what my father did?" she said abruptly.

"You can tell me that and then explain to me why you didn't eat more for dinner. And after that we're going to talk about the last movie you saw and the books you read and what you think about global warming."

"Really, all that?"

God, he loved her laugh. "Yup. We're in network, so it's free. Oh, and I want to know what your favorite color is."

"Rehvenge...you really don't want to be alone, do you." The words were spoken gently and almost absently, as if the thought had snuck out of her mouth.

"Right now...I just want to be with you. That's all I know."

"I wouldn't be ready, either. If my father passed tonight, I wouldn't be ready to let him go."

He closed his eyes. "That is..." He had to clear his throat. "That is exactly what I'm feeling. I'm not ready for this."

"Your father has also...passed. So I know it's extra hard."

"Well, yes, he's dead, although I don't miss him at all. She was always the one for me. And with her gone...I feel like I just drove up to my home to find someone's burned it down. I mean, I didn't see her every night or even every week, but I always had the potential of going over and sitting down and smelling her Chanel No. 5. Of hearing her voice and seeing her across a table. That potential...grounded me, and I didn't know it until I lost it. Shit...I'm not making sense."

"No, you totally are. For me it's the same. My mother's gone and my father...he's here but he's not. So I feel homeless, too. Adrift."

This was why people got mated, Rehv suddenly thought. Fuck the sex and the social position. If they were smart, they did it to make a house that had no walls and an invisible roof and a floor that no one could walk on-and yet the structure was a shelter no storm could blow down, no match could torch up, no passage of years could degrade.

That was when it hit him. A mated bond like that helped you through shit nights like this.

Bella had found that shelter with her Zsadist. And maybe her older brother needed to follow his sister's example.

"Well," Ehlena said awkwardly, "I can answer the question about my favorite color if you like. Might keep things from getting too heavy."

Rehv shook himself back into gear. "And what would it be?"

Ehlena cleared her throat a little. "My favorite color is...amethyst."

Rehv smiled until his cheeks hurt. "I think that's a great color for you to like. A perfect color."

Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT

There were fifteen people at Chrissy's funeral who knew her, and one who hadn't-and as Xhex scanned the windswept cemetery, she looked for a seventeenth person hiding among the trees and tombs and larger headstones.

No wonder the fucking graveyard was called Pine Grove. There were fluffy boughs all over the place, providing ample cover for someone who didn't want to be seen. Damn it to hell.

She'd found the cemetery in the Yellow Pages. The first two she'd called hadn't had any space left. The third had had space only in their Wall of Eternity, as the guy called it, for cremated bodies. Finally, she'd found this Pine Grove thing and purchased the rectangle of dirt they were all standing around.

The pink coffin had been about five grand. The plot another three. The priest, father, whatever humans called him, had indicated that a suggested donation of a hundred dollars would be appropriate.

No problem. Chrissy deserved it.

Xhex searched the frickin' pines again, hoping to find the asshole who'd murdered her. Bobby Grady had to be coming. Most abusers who killed the objects of their obsessions remained connected emotionally. And even though the police were looking for him, and he had to know that, the drive to see her put to rest was going to override logic.

Xhex refocused on the officiant. The human male was dressed in a black coat, his white collar showing at his throat. In his palms, over Chrissy's pretty coffin, he held a Bible that he read from in a low, reverent voice. Satin ribbons were laid among the gold-leafed pages to demarcate whatever sections he used most, the ends trailing out the bottom of the book, waving red and yellow and white in the cold. Xhex wondered what his "favorites" list was like. Marriages. Baptisms-if she got that word right. Funerals.

Did he pray for sinners, she wondered. If she remembered the Christian thing right, she believed he had to-so although he didn't know Chrissy had been a prostitute, even if he had he would still have had to affect that respectful tone and expression.

This gave Xhex comfort, although she couldn't have said why.

From out of the north, a chilly breeze blew, and she resumed surveying the landscape. Chrissy wasn't staying here when they were done. Like so many rituals, this was for show. With the earth frozen, she was going to have to wait until spring, housed in a meat locker at the mortuary. But at least she had her headstone, pink granite, of course, set where she'd be buried. Xhex had kept the words of the inscription simple, just Chrissy's name and her dates, but there was a lot of nice scrollwork done around the edges.

This was the first human death ceremony Xhex had ever been to, and it was utterly foreign, all this entombing, first in the box, then under the earth. The idea of getting stuck beneath the ground was enough to make her tug at the collar of her leather jacket. Nope. Not for her. In this respect, she was solidly symphath.

Funeral pyres were the only way to go.

At the grave, the officiant bent down with a silver shovel and roughed up the ground, then he took a handful of the loose dirt and pronounced over the coffin, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

The man let the granules of earth fly, and as the brisk wind took them, Xhex sighed, this part making sense to her. In the symphath tradition, the dead were raised upon wooden platforms and lit from below, the smoke wafting up and scattering just as this dirt did, at the mercy of the elements. And what remained? Ash that was left where it lay.

Of course, symphaths were burned because no one trusted that they were actually dead when they "died." Sometimes they were. Sometimes they were just playing at it. And it was worth being sure.

But the elegant lie was the same in both traditions, wasn't it. Being swept away, free from the body, gone and yet part of everything.

The priest closed the Bible and bowed his head, and as everyone else followed his example, Xhex glanced around again, praying that fucker Grady was somewhere.

But as far as she could see or sense, he hadn't shown yet.

Shit, look at all the headstones...planted into rolling hills that were winter-brown. Although the markers were all different-tall and thin, or short and close to the ground, white, gray, black, pink, gold-there was a central plan to it all, the rows of the dead arranged like houses in a development, with asphalt lanes and stretches of trees winding among them.

One headstone kept drawing her eyes. It was a statue of a robed woman who was staring up to the heavens, her face and pose as serene and calm as the overcast sky she was focused on. The granite she was carved out of was pale gray, the same color as what loomed over her, and for a moment it was hard to tell what was the grave marker and what was the horizon.

Shaking herself, Xhex looked over at Trez and, when he met her eyes, he shook his head imperceptibly. Same with iAm. Neither of them had tweaked to Bobby's presence, either.

Meanwhile Detective de la Cruz was staring at her, and she knew it not because she returned the favor to him, but because she could feel his emotions change whenever those eyes of his landed on her. He understood how she felt. He truly did. And there was a part of him that respected her for her vengeance. But he was resolved.

As the priest stepped back and talk sprang up, Xhex realized the graveside service was over, and she watched as Marie-Terese was the first to break ranks, going up to the officiant and shaking his hand. She was spectacular in her funeral garb, her black lace head covering looking positively bridal, the beads and cross in her hands making her seem pious to the point of nun-ish.

Clearly, the priest approved of her dress and her serious, beautiful face and whatever it was she said to him, because he bowed and held on to her hand. With the contact between them, his emotional grid shifted to love, pure, undiluted, chaste love.

That was why the statue stood out, Xhex realized. Marie-Terese looked exactly like the robed female. Weird.

"Nice service, huh."

She turned and looked at Detective de la Cruz. "Seemed fine. I wouldn't really know."

"You're not Catholic, then."

"Nope." Xhex waved at Trez and iAm as the crowd dispersed. The boys were taking everyone out to lunch before they all headed into work, as one more way of honoring Chrissy.

"Grady didn't come," the detective said.

"Nope."

De la Cruz smiled. "You know, you talk like you decorate."

"I like to keep things simple."

"'Just the facts, ma'am'? I thought that was my line." He glanced at the backs of the people walking off toward the three cars parked together in the lane. One by one, Rehv's Bentley, a Honda mini-van, and Marie-Terese's five-year-old Camry pulled out.

"So, where's your boss?" de la Cruz murmured. "I expected to see him here."

"He's a night owl."

"Ah."

"Look, Detective, I'm going to take off."

"Really?" He swept his arm around. "In what? Or do you like walking in this kind of weather."

"I parked somewhere else."

"Did you? You weren't thinking of sticking around? You know, seeing if there were any late arrivals."

"Now, why would I do that."

"Why, indeed."

Long, long, long pause, during which Xhex stared at the statue that reminded her of Marie-Terese. "You want to give me a ride to my car, Detective?"

"Yeah, sure."

The unmarked sedan was as serviceable as the detective's wardrobe, but like the guy's heavy coat, it was warm, and like what was in the detective's clothes, it was powerful, the engine growling like something you'd find under the hood of a Corvette.

De la Cruz looked over as he gunned it. "Where am I going?"

"To the club, if you don't mind."

"That's where you left your car?"

"I got a ride here."

"Ah."

As de la Cruz drove them along the winding road, she stared out at the headstones and for a brief moment thought of the number of bodies she'd walked away from.

Including John Matthew's.

She'd done her best not to think about what they'd done and the way she'd left that big, hard body of his sprawled all over her bed. His eyes as he'd watched her go out the door had been full of a heartbreak she couldn't allow herself to internalize. It wasn't that she didn't give a shit; she cared too much.

That was why she'd had to leave, and why she couldn't afford to be caught alone with him again. She'd been down that road before, and the results had been beyond tragic.

"You okay?" de la Cruz asked.

"I'm just fine, Detective. You?"

"Good. Just fine. Thanks for asking."

The gates of the cemetery loomed up ahead, the iron latticeworks split and pulled to either side of the lane.

"I'm going to be coming back here," de la Cruz said as they braked and then surged forward onto the street beyond. "Because I think Grady will show up eventually. He's going to have to."

"Well, you won't be seeing me."

"No?"

"Nope. Count on it." She was just too good at being hidden.

When Ehlena's phone made a beep in her ear, she had to take it away from her head. "What the-Oh. Battery's going dead. Hold on."

Rehvenge's deep laughter had her pausing while she reached for the cord, just so she could hear every last rumble of the sound.

"Okay, I'm plugged in." She resettled against her pillows. "Now, where were we-oh, yeah. So I'm curious, exactly what kind of businessman are you?"

"A successful one."

"Which explains the wardrobe."

He laughed again. "No, my good taste explains the wardrobe."

"Then the successful part is how you pay for it."

"Well, my family's fortunate. We'll just leave it at that."

She deliberately focused on her duvet cover so she wouldn't be reminded of the low-ceilinged, ratty room she was in. Better yet...Ehlena reached up and clicked off the light that sat on the milk crates she had stacked next to her bed.

"What was that?" he asked.

"The light. I, ah, I just turned it off."

"Oh, man, I've kept you on way too long."

"No, I just...wanted it dark, is all."

Rehv's voice dropped so low she could barely hear it. "Why."

Yeah, like she was going to tell him it was because she didn't want to think about where she stayed. "I...wanted to get even more comfortable."

"Ehlena." Need suffused his tone, changing the tenor of the conversation from flirtatious chitchat to...something very sexual. And in an instant, she was back on his bed in that penthouse, naked, his mouth on her skin.

"Ehlena..."

"What," she said hoarsely.

"Are you still in your uniform? The one I took off of you?"

"Yes." The word was more breath than anything else, and it went so much further than just an answer to the question he'd asked. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it, too.

"The buttons on the front of it," he murmured. "Undo one for me?"

"Yes."

As she popped the first of them free, he said, "And another."

"Yes."

They kept at it until her uniform was open down the front, and she was really glad the lights were off-not because she would have been embarrassed, but because it made him seem right there with her.

Rehvenge groaned, and she heard him lick his lips. "If I were there, you know what I would be doing? I'd be running my fingertips down to your breasts. I'd find a nipple and I'd draw circles around it so it was ready."

She did as he described and gasped when she touched herself. Then she realized..."Ready for what?"

He laughed long and low. "You want to hear me say it, don't you."

"I do."

"Ready for my mouth, Ehlena. Do you remember what that felt like? Because I remember exactly what you taste like. Leave your bra on and pinch yourself for me...as if I'm sucking on you though those pretty white lace cups of yours."

Ehlena squeezed her thumb and forefinger together, trapping her nipple in between the two. The effect was second-best to his warm, wet sucking, but it was good enough, especially with his having told her to do it. She repeated the pinch and arched up off the bed, moaning his name.

"Oh, Christ...Ehlena."

"Now...what..." As her breath shot out of her mouth, between her thighs she was throbbing, wet, desperate for whatever they were going to do.

"I want to be there with you," he groaned.

"You are with me. You are."

"Again. Squeeze for me." As she shuddered and called out his name, he was quick with the next command. "Take your skirt up for me. So it's around your waist. Put the phone down and do it fast. I'm impatient."

She let the phone fall onto the bed and swept her skirt past her thighs and over her hips. She had to pat around to find her cell and then she rushed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"God, that sounded good...I could hear the cloth moving up your body. I want you to start with your thighs. Go there first. Keep the stockings on and stroke your way up."

The hose acted as a conductor of her touch, magnifying the sensation just as his voice did.

"Remember me doing that," he said in a dark voice. "Remember."

"Yes, oh, yes..."

She was panting so hard in anticipation, she nearly missed him growl: "I wish I could smell you."

"Higher?" she said.

"No." As his name left her lips in protest, he laughed the way a lover did, soft and low, with both satisfaction and promise. "Go up the outside of your thigh to your hip and around the back and then down again."

She did as he asked and he talked her through the caresses: "I loved being with you. I can't wait to go there again. You know what I'm doing?"

"What?"

"Licking my lips. Because I'm thinking of me kissing my way over your thighs and then running my tongue up and down where I'm dying to be." She moaned his name again and was rewarded. "Go down there, Ehlena. On top of the stockings. Go where I want to be."

As she did, she felt all the heat they'd generated through the thin nylon, and her sex responded by welling up even more.

"Take them off," he said. "The stockings. Take them off and keep them with you."

Ehlena put down the phone again and didn't care if she ran the hell out of the hose as she stripped them from her legs. Scrambling for the cell, she barely got it in range before she was demanding what was next.

"Slip your hand under your panties. And tell me what you find."

There was a pause. "Oh, God...I'm wet."

When Rehvenge moaned this time, she wondered if he was erect: She'd seen that he was capable of that, but then, impotence didn't mean that you couldn't get hard. It just meant that for whatever reason you couldn't finish.

Christ, she wished she could lay some commands on him, ones that were consistent with whatever sexual level he could function at. She just didn't know how far to take it.

"Stroke yourself and know it's me," he growled. "That's my hand."

She did as he asked and orgasmed hard, sprawling all over her bed, his name leaving her lips in as quiet an explosion as possible.

"Get rid of the panties."

Roger that, she thought as she yanked them down her thighs and ditched them God only knew where.

She lay back down, looking forward to doing that again when he said, "Can you hold the phone against your ear with your shoulder?"

"Yes." Screw it; if he wanted her to turn herself into a vampire pretzel she was on board with the plan.

"Take the stockings between both hands, stretch them out taut, then run them in between your legs front to back."

She laughed with an erotic edge, then said sweetly, "You want me to work myself against them, do you?"

His breath shot into her ear. "Fuck, yes."

"Dirty male."

"A tongue bath from you might clean me up. What do you say?"

"Yes."

"I love that word on your lips." As she laughed, he said, "So what are you waiting for, Ehlena? You need to put those stockings to good use."

She cradled the cell phone in her neck, found a good position for it, and then, feeling like a harlot and loving it, she took her white stockings, rolled onto her side, and threaded the nylon length between her legs.

"Nice and tight," he said, panting.

She gasped at the contact, the hard, smooth line diving into her sex in all the right places.

"Move yourself against it," Rehvenge said with satisfaction. "Let me hear how good it feels."

She did exactly that, the stockings getting saturated and warming to match her core. She kept at it, riding the sensations and his stream of words until she came over and over: In the dark, with her eyes closed and his voice in her ear, it was almost as good as being with him.

When she was limp and lying in a heap, her breath laboring but in a very good way, she cuddled around the phone.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly.

"Only because you make me that way."

"Oh, you're so wrong about that." His voice dropped. "Will you come and see me earlier tonight? I can't wait until four."

"Yes."

"Good."

"When."

"I'll be with my mother and family here until about ten. Come then?"

"Yes."

"I have that meeting, but we'll get well over an hour of privacy."

"Perfect."

There was a long pause, one that she had the alarming sense might well have been filled with I love you on both sides if they'd had the courage.

"Sleep well," he breathed.

"You, too, if you can. And listen, if you can't sleep, call me. I'm here."

"I will. Promise."

There was another stretch of quiet, as if each were waiting for the other to hang up first.

Ehlena laughed, even though the idea of letting him go made her heart ache. "Okay, on the count of three. One, two-"

"Wait."

"What?"

He didn't answer for the longest time. "I don't want to get off the phone."

She closed her eyes. "I feel the same way."

Rehvenge released a breath, low and slow. "Thank you. For staying on with me."

The word that came to mind didn't make a whole lot of sense, and she wasn't sure why she spoke it, but she did:

"Always."

"If you want, you can close your eyes and imagine me next to you. Holding you."

"I will do just that."

"Good. Sleep well." He was the one who ended the call.

As Ehlena took the phone away from her ear and hit the end button, the keypad lit up, glowing bright blue. The thing was warm from where she'd held it for so long, and she smoothed her thumb over the flat screen.

Always. She wanted to be there for him always.

The keypad went dark, the light extinguished with a finality that made her panicky. But she could still call him, couldn't she? It would look pathetic and needy, but he remained on the planet even though he wasn't on her phone.

The potential for the call was there.

God, his mother had died today. And of all the people in his life who he could have passed the hours with, he had chosen her.

Pulling the sheets and the duvet up her legs, Ehlena curled herself around the phone, cradled it close, and passed out.