A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(31)

At the end, Emma had to admit that their dinner filled with shifting plates and food flying—from Emma’s clumsy silverware activity—wasn’t unpleasant.

After the waiter cleared their plates, Emma saw the woman at the table next to them excuse herself after her meal. That’s what human women did. When finished eating, they drew their purses into their laps and patted them, then went to the bathroom to reapply lipstick and check their teeth. As long as she was pretending…

But Emma didn’t have a purse. Her purse had been ruined when she’d been thrown to the muddy ground by this Lykae across from her. She frowned, but still moved to stand. “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she murmured.

“No.” He reached for her legs, which made her jerk them back under the table.

“Pardon?”

“Why would you do that? I know you doona have those needs.”

She sputtered with embarrassment. “Y-you don’t know anything about me! And I’d like to keep it that way.”

He leaned back, hands behind his head, expression casual, as if they weren’t discussing something so personal. “Do you? Have those needs?”

Her face flamed. She didn’t. And as far as she knew, other vampires didn’t either. Valkyrie didn’t, because they didn’t, well, eat.

“Your blushing answered me. So you doona.” Did nothing embarrass him?

She was alarmed to see he was getting that analytical look, the one that made her feel like an insect pinned by the wings beneath a microscope.

“How else are you different from human females? I know your tears are pink. Do you sweat?”

Of course she could. “Not for ninety minutes a week, as my country’s surgeon general recommends.” Good, she’d lost him. But not for long….

“Is it pink as well?”

“No! The tears are an anomaly. Okay? I am just like other women but for those things you crudely pointed out.”

“No, you’re no’. I watch the advertisements on the television. During the day, they’re all about women. You doona shave, but your skin is smooth where they are. I went through your belongings and found that you doona carry the supplies with you as they do.”

Her eyes widened as it hit her—what he meant. She stiffened, about to leap from the booth, when he stretched his leg out and dropped his heavy boot beside her, trapping her.

“There were rumors that vampire females grew infertile. Once a vampire male finds his Bride he does no’ stray, so your species was depopulating. Is that no’ why Demestriu tried to kill all of the females within the Horde?”

She’d never known this. She lowered her gaze, staring at the table as it appeared to wobble. The waiter had made a valiant effort to tidy up after her, but there were still crumbs. Crumbs from her. Because she was a freak who couldn’t handle silverware and apparently couldn’t have children either.

She’d never had a monthly cycle because she was infertile?

“Is that true?” he repeated.

She murmured, “Who knows what Demestriu was thinking?”

His voice less stern, he said, “So you are no’ wholly like them.”

“I guess not.” She pushed her shoulders back. “But I still have a hairstyle I want to check and tales of a date gone bad that I want to recount, so I will be going to the restroom now.”

“Come directly back to me.” He bit out the order.

She dared a glare at him, then hurried away.

The restaurant shared its facilities with the bar, so she had to wind around men loitering throughout. It was like a video game maze fraught with opponents—any of whom could be vampires—but a time-out from humiliation seemed worth the risk.

Inside the sanctuary of the ladies’ room, she crossed to the wall of sinks to wash her hands. She stared into the mirror, shocked anew at how pale she’d grown. Her cheekbones were sharp in her face from the weight she’d so rapidly lost. She was simply too young and too weak in general not to suffer immediate consequences from thirst. Hell, she was a walking homage to vulnerability.

She’d known she was weak. Had accepted it. And she’d accepted the fact that she couldn’t even defend herself with a weapon. She could scarcely wield a sword, her archery was laughable—as evidenced by everyone laughing at her when she practiced—and her fighting? Well, she didn’t exactly have the madskills going on.

Yet she hadn’t known she could never have children….

When Emma returned, and Lachlain stood and helped her to her seat, she noticed that while she’d been gone, he’d dug his claws into the table. Nothing like the hotel, merely five precise, deep indentations haloing the visible heat from his palm that was just receding.

He sank into the booth once more, his brows drawn as though deep in thought. He looked like he was about to say something, then seemed to think better of it. She’d be damned if she’d fill this groaning silence.

When her attention remained on the marks, he placed his hand atop them. He clearly didn’t like that she stared, no doubt thinking she harkened back to the days—or, rather, this evening—of his destruction.

She wondered what had happened to make him do this. He’d probably spotted that club-kid girl with the sheer blouse and visible nipple piercings and felt the call of the wild.