Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood #7)(41)

“If you were worried about my arm, why didn’t you just talk to me at the clinic?”

“I did, remember.”

“Not like this.” Rehv smiled in the dark and ran his hand up and down the mink duvet. He couldn’t feel it, but he imagined the pelts were as soft as her hair. “I still think you wanted to get me on the phone.”

The pause that followed made him worry she was going to pull out of the call.

He sat up, like getting vertical would keep her from hitting her end button. “I’m only saying…well, shit, my point is, I’m glad you called. Whatever the reason.”

“I didn’t talk to you at the clinic about it any further because you left before I entered Havers’s notes into the computer. That’s when it all sank in.”

He still wasn’t buying that the call was completely professional. She could have e-mailed him. She could have told the doctor. Could have turfed it to one of the day nurses to follow up.

“So there’s no chance you feel bad for slamming me down as hard as you did?”

She cleared her throat. “I am sorry for that.”

“Well, I forgive you. Totally. Completely. You looked like you were not having a great night.”

Her exhale was exhaustion made manifest. “Yeah, it wasn’t my best.”

“Why?”

Another long pause. “You are much better over the phone, you know that?”

He laughed. “Much better how?”

“Easier to talk to. You’re actually…pretty easy to talk to.”

“I do okay with the one-on-one.”

Abruptly he frowned, thinking of the bookie he’d tuned up out in the office. Shit, that poor bastard was just one in a huge number of drug dealers and Vegas lackeys and bartenders and pimps he’d beaten into conversating over the years. His philosophy had always been that confession was good for the soul, especially when it came to scumbags who thought he wouldn’t notice they were f*cking him. His management style also sent an important message in a business where weakness got you killed: Back-alley commerce required a strong hand, and he’d always believed that was just the reality in which he lived.

Now though, in this quiet time, with Ehlena so close, he felt like his “one-on-ones” were something to apologize for and conceal.

“So why was tonight not so good?” he asked, desperate to shut himself the f*ck up.

“My father. And then…well, I got stood up.”

Rehv frowned so hard he actually felt a slight sting between his eyes. “For a date?”

“Yeah.”

He hated the idea of her out with another male. And yet envied the motherf*cker, whoever he was. “What an ass. I’m sorry, but what an ass.”

Ehlena laughed, and he loved everything about the sound, especially the way his body warmed a little more in response. Man, to hell with a hot shower. That soft, quiet chuckle was what he needed.

“Are you smiling,” he said softly.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. How did you know?”

“Was just hoping you were.”

“Well, you can be kind of charming.” Quickly, as if to cover up the compliment, she said, “The date wasn’t a big deal or anything. I didn’t know him that well. It was just coffee.”

“But you ended the night on the phone with me. Which is so much better.”

She laughed again. “Well, I won’t ever know what it’s like to go out with him.”

“You won’t?”

“I just…well, I thought about it, and I don’t think dating is a good idea for me right now.” His surge of triumph was sacked when she tacked on, “With anyone.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? What does hm mean?”

“It means I have your phone number.”

“Ah, yes, you do—” Her voice caught as he shifted around. “Wait, are you…in bed?”

“Yeah. And before you go any farther, you don’t want to know.”

“I don’t want to know what?”

“How much I’m not wearing.”

“Er…” As she hesitated, he knew she was smiling again. And probably blushing. “I so won’t ask.”

“Wise of you. It’s just me and the sheets—oops, did I just spill that?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” Her voice got a little lower, as if she were imagining him naked. And not minding the mental pinup in the slightest.

“Ehlena…” He stopped himself, his symphath urges giving him the self-control to slow down. Yes, Rehv wanted her as naked as he was. But even more than that, he wanted her on the phone.

“What?” she said.

“Your father…has he been ill for long?”

“I, ah…yes, yes, he has. He’s schizophrenic. We’ve got him on meds now, though, and he’s better.”

“God…damn. That’s got to be really difficult. Because he’s there but he’s not there, right.”

“Yes…that’s exactly what it feels like.”

It was kind of the way he went through life, his symphath side a constant, other reality that dogged him as he tried to get through the nights as a normal.

“So do you mind if I ask,” she said with care, “what you need the dopamine for? There’s no immediate diagnosis in your medical record.”