How ironic would that be? Dying in a car with a Tribe woman? He could see the humor in it but he doubted anyone else would.
“There’s no joy in killing.” His words were soft.
“I suppose that seems true to you, but I would love to kill the rogue that killed my mother.”
“I can see why you would. But that rogue is probably long since dead. They’re condemned by their own kind, you know.”
“The Fallen? They’re condemned because they chose to be.”
A lick of anger tickled below his ribs but surprise flared up as well. She’d named them! He risked a quick look at her face and saw an expression of consternation there. She hadn’t meant to name them and now she didn’t know how to unring that bell.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”
Cara relaxed. “I’m sorry. I was saying that werewolves chose their shapes.”
“Really?” He was interested despite himself.
“Yes, back a long time ago. There was a man who was the king in a small kingdom but he wanted more. He wanted the entire world at his feet. He called in a priest who was rumored to know the dark arts.
“It turned out that the priest did know the dark arts, or at least one of them. He knew how to shift his shape and the priest taught the king that trick as well. Only the priest didn’t tell the ruler how to change back, so he was trapped in the form of a wolf forever, or until someone could break the spell.”
“I’ve never heard that before.” He wasn’t lying — that was sure as hell not the story that he’d been told.
“Most people just know the whole bitten-by-a-werewolf-and-become-one version. Although that’s true too, at least it is now.”
Sebastian didn’t correct her on that one. He knew all too well what made a werewolf. He decided it was time to change the subject. “How’s school?”
“It’s difficult.” A grin tugged at her full mouth. “I love it though. I can’t wait to get into the courtroom. I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life just for that. I never got to ask what it is you do.”
“Oh, I inherited my job.” That wasn’t a lie either. “You could say we’re entrepreneurs. We have all sorts of businesses.” Also not a lie. He hoped she wouldn’t probe deeper.
CHAPTER 7
The restaurant he took her to was known for its steaks and for being incredibly expensive. “Do you drink?” Sebastian asked.
“I’m nineteen.”
“Ah, then that would be a legal no.”
His eyes were dancing with mischief and she burst into laughter. “I don’t drink at all. I tried it when I was younger and all sorts of crazy stuff happened.” She’d accidentally managed to fire off a spell that set the living room to spinning so fast everyone in it had fallen down. It had taken three Tribe women to calm that spell.
“I see. Well, I think I’ve got enough crazy stuff happening around me, so we’ll forego wine.”
“Good idea.”
“I hope you’re hungry, the food is amazing here.”
She was hungry, but food was the furthest thing from her mind. What she wanted was him. She wanted to touch him, to sit on his lap and feel his hardness on her ass. She wanted to put her mouth on his and taste his lips, feel his tongue thrusting in and out… her face went scarlet and she was grateful for the cool dimness of the steakhouse’s interior.
She gulped at a glass of ice water that the waiter had placed by her elbow, hoping it would help cool her off. It didn’t. He reached across the table and his fingers rested on hers. She looked down at their hands; his practically swallowed hers. She was not a small woman but somehow he made her feel incredibly tiny and fragile… all the better for him to protect.
Shit. Where were all her hard-earned feminist beliefs? Growing up Tribe was not exactly the best way to learn independence, and while women were often just as powerful as the men in their homes, most were still taught to acquiesce to their mate.
Cara had always thought that was so much bullshit. Until right now. She could see letting Sebastian call the shots.
“Would you like me to order?”
She hadn’t managed to read the menu. All she had been able to do was fantasize about the man across the table. “That would be nice.”
She handed her menu back to the waiter who stood poised by their table, his face impassive and his dark hair gleaming with some sort of sparkling oil. He was handsome, too, but he could not hold a candle to the blond Adonis who had brought her.
Sebastian picked her hand up and turned it over. Shivers shot through her. “Are you reading my palm?” It was an attempt at a joke, but his eyes were intent as they looked into hers.