Blood Vow (Black Dagger Legacy #2)(99)

“Okay.”

Things kind of petered out at that point, Ruhn sitting back down and staring into the fire. Mary coming to stand next to Rhage, her arm linking through his.

“There’s one other thing,” V announced as he addressed the uncle. “The King wants to meet you. Before you can see Bitty, you will be required to sit in his presence.”

Ruhn nodded slowly. “All right. Whatever it takes.”

But the guy was obviously not looking forward to it. Because he had something to hide? Rhage wondered.

“I’m going to be in on that,” Rhage said. “I will be in on that audience.”

“Wrath wants it private.” V shook his head. “And by that, he meant without you or Mary.”

“It really should be just between the two of them.” Mary stroked his arm. “When will that meeting occur? We should wait to speak to her until it happens—”

“He can sit in if he wants.” Ruhn shrugged as all eyes swung back his way. “I have nothing to hide. I mean, I’m just a nobody, and I’m used to my lack of status. No reason to have airs if you’ve got nothing to back them up with, and if all you’ve done is live a simple, honest life? That’s the kind of thing you can explain even to a King, with a straight back and a level eye—no matter who else is in the room with you.”

Rhage blinked. And then had a horrible thought.

Fuck, under other circumstances, he might have liked the guy.

“We appreciate that, Ruhn.” Again, Marissa with her gentle way was easing things. “But it is better if it’s just you and Wrath. And a guard.”

“Wrath said he could come here now,” somebody interjected.

“Then we should go.” Mary looked at Rhage. “Let’s just go, all right? And we’ll hang out somewhere and wait for word about the meeting with Wrath before we head home.”

Someone said something—Marissa. And then Mary was talking. After that, people started nodding like there was some kind of consensus happening.

Then it was time to leave—and Rhage put his arm around Mary’s waist as they walked to the double doors. They paused as Z did the duty of letting them out.

Just as Rhage was stepping from the room, he glanced over his shoulder. Ruhn was still sitting on that sofa in front of the fire, the mostly untouched tea service in front of him, his hands lying on his thighs, his eyes unfocused.

He was nervous. But he wasn’t backing away.

“Come on,” Mary said.

Next thing Rhage knew, he was behind the wheel of the GTO, the engine was on, and the heater was going.

“You want to get something to eat?” he asked, even though he wasn’t hungry.

“Sure. Let’s go to that twenty-four-hour diner you like. The one with all the different kinds of pie.”

“Sounds good.”

Annnnnd so, some ten minutes later, he was parking between a heavy-duty pickup truck and a BMW. Snow was swirling in the air again, but not heavily—as if maybe the clouds above had separation anxiety and were reluctant to let their flakes fly.

The All-Nighter, as the place was called, was your standard diner, with a blinking sign outside and a row of bar stools at the counter inside. There was an annex that had tables, and waitresses who were bored and hostile, and a loyal clientele of which he was a member. On the menu? Free coffee, pie that was to die for, and breakfast around the clock—as well as a Reuben that could make you see God every time you bit down.

His normal table was in the back by the emergency exit, and the waitress who worked the night shift jerked her head in that direction.

Which was her way of saying, Hey, good to see you again. Your favorite spot’s open, and I’ll bring you your coffee ASAP. Oh, and glad you brought the wife with you this time.

Given everything that was going on, the lack of cheerful interaction was a serious bene.

He and Mary took their seats. Coffee was served in heavy mugs. Rhage got the banana cream, Boston cream, and a slice of apple. Mary got a second fork for sampling.

Before he dug in, he put his phone right out on the Formica tabletop. Just in case, you know, reception was bad in the pocket of his leather jacket.

They sat in silence, that cell with its unlit screen between them like a fucking black hole in space, sucking all matter and energy into it.

Mary sipped her coffee. Left that fork where it was on the folded-up paper napkin. From time to time, she looked around at the mostly empty tables.

“You know what I like about this place?” she murmured.

“The pie?” he said between bites. Which were all texture, no taste tonight.

“Well, yes. But it’s so bright in here. Usually, at night, everything is dim. I never really noticed this until I came to live with you and started doing the night-is-day, day-is-night thing. Like, for some reason, humans tend to make the insides of all restaurants dim after sundown. Here, though, it reminds me of what it’s like to be out during the day.”

“Do you resent the changes?” he asked, wiping his mouth. “You know … in your life?”

“Not at all.” Her eyes swung over to his. “I have you, and that makes everything better.”

“Not in this situation with Bitty, it doesn’t.”

“Nothing could make that any better.”

“Too right.”