Chapter Twenty-five
Beth watched Wrath saunter away as if he didn't give a rat's ass whether or not she ate with him.
If she hadn't been having second thoughts herself, she would have been totally insulted. He'd invited her to dinner. So why was he all bent out of joint when she showed up? She was tempted to hightail it right back out the front door.
Except she followed because she felt like she had no choice. There were so many things she wanted to know, things only he could explain.
Although as God was her witness, if there were any way to get the information from someone else, she would have.
As he walked in front of her, she shot a glare at the back of his head and tried to ignore his powerful stride. The latter was an abject failure. He just moved too superbly. With each sharp impact of his heel, his shoulders shifted under the expensive jacket, counterbalancing the thrust of his legs. As his arms swung loosely, she knew that his thighs were clenching and releasing with every step. She pictured him naked, his muscles flexing under his skin.
Butch's voice bounced around in her head. A man like that has murder in his blood. It's his nature.
And yet Wrath had sent her away last night when he'd been a danger to her.
She told herself to forget attempting to reconcile the contradictions. She was just trying to read tea leaves with all the mental aerobics. She needed to go with her gut, and her gut said Wrath was the only help she had.
As she stepped into the dining room, the beautiful table that had been set for them was a surprise. There were flowers in the center, tuberoses and orchids. And ivory candles. And gleaming china and silver.
Wrath went around and pulled out a chair, waiting for her to sit in it. Looming over the thing.
God, he looked fantastic in the suit. And the open collar of his shirt showed off his throat, the black silk making his skin look tanned. Too bad he was flat-out pissed. His face was as harsh as his temper, and with his hair pulled back, the aggressive thrust of his jaw was even more prominent.
Something had set him off. Big-time.
Perfect date material, she thought. A vampire with the social equivalent of road rage.
She approached cautiously. As he slid the seat under her, she could have sworn he bent down to her hair and inhaled deeply.
"Why were you so late?" he demanded while sitting at the head of the table. When she didn't answer, he cocked an eyebrow at her, the dark arch rising over the rim of his black sunglasses. "Did Fritz have to talk you into coming?"
To give herself something to do, she took her napkin and unfolded it in her lap. "It was nothing like that."
"So tell me what it was."
"Butch followed us. We had to wait until we got free of him."
She sensed the space around Wrath darkening as if his anger sucked the light right out of the air.
Fritz came in with two small plates of salad. He put them down.
"Wine?" he asked.
Wrath nodded.
After the.butler had finished pouring and left, she picked up a heavy silver fork and forced herself to eat.
"Why are you afraid of me now?" Wrath's voice was sardonic, as if he were bored by her fear.
She jabbed at the greens. "Hmmm. Could it be because you look like you want to strangle someone?"
"You walked into this house scared of me again. Before you even saw me, you were frightened. I want to know why."
She kept her eyes on her plate. "Maybe I was reminded that last night you almost killed a friend of mine."
"Christ, not that again."
"You asked," she shot back. "Don't get mad if you don't like my answer."
Wrath wiped his mouth impatiently. "I didn't kill him, did I?"
"Only because I stopped you."
"And that bothers you? Most people like to be heroes."
She put her fork down. "You know what? I don't want to be here with you right now."
He kept eating. "So why did you come?"
"Because you asked me to!"
"Believe me, I can handle the rejection." As if she were of no concern to him whatsoever.
"This was a mistake." She put her napkin down next to her plate and stood.
He cursed. "Sit down."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Let me amend that. Sit down and shut up."
She gaped at him. "You arrogant ass-"
"Someone's already called me that tonight, thank you very much."
Fritz picked that moment to breeze in with some warm rolls.
She glared at Wrath and pretended she was only reaching across the table for the wine bottle. She wasn't about to march off in front of Fritz. And besides, she suddenly felt like sticking around.
So she could yell at Wrath a little longer.
When they were alone again, she hissed, "Where do you get off talking to me like that?"