Lover Avenged(145)
“I think you need a CAT scan.”
There was no nonsense coming from her, nothing to argue with. So as he heard a phone getting flipped open and being dialed, he kept his piehole shut even though it killed him.
“I’ll see when Havers can get you in.”
Which was going to be at the drop of a hat, no doubt. Wrath and the race’s physician had had their differences, going way back to the Marissa days, but the male had always been front and center with the service when it was needed.
As Doc Jane started talking, Wrath cut in on her conversation. “Do not tell Havers what it’s for. And you and only you see the results. We clear?”
Last thing they needed was any speculation on his fitness to rule.
Beth spoke up. “Tell him it’s for me.”
Doc Jane nodded and smoothly lied, and as she arranged everything, Wrath pulled Beth up against his side.
Neither of them said anything, because what kind of conversation was there to be had? They were both scared shitless-his vision was crap, but he needed what little he had. Without it? What the hell was he going to do?
“I have to go to that council meeting at midnight,” he said softly. As Beth stiffened, he shook his head. “Politically speaking, I have to go. Things are too unstable right now for me to not show, or to try to move it to another night. I have to come from a position of strength.”
“And what if you lose your sight in the middle of it?” she hissed.
“Then I’m going to fake it until I can get out of there.”
“Wrath-”
Doc Jane clipped her phone shut. “He can see you right now.”
“How long will it take?”
“About an hour.”
“Good. I have somewhere I need to be at midnight.”
“Why don’t we see what the scan says-”
“I have to-”
Doc Jane cut him off with an authority that told him in this exchange he was a patient, not the king. “Have to is a relative term. We’ll see what’s doing in there and then you can decide just how much have to you’ve got.”
Ehlena could have stayed on the terrace with Rehvenge for twenty years, but he whispered in her ear that he’d made them something to eat, and sitting across from him in candlelight sounded equally as great.
After a final, lingering kiss, they went inside together, her tucked against him, his arm around her waist, her hand up on his back between his shoulder blades. The penthouse was hot, so she took her coat off and draped it over one of the low-slung black leather couches.
“I thought we’d eat in the kitchen,” he said.
So much for candlelight, but what did it matter? As long as she was with him, she glowed enough to light up the whole damn penthouse.
Rehvenge took her hand and drew her through the dining room and out the other side of a swinging butler’s door. The kitchen was black granite and stainless steel, very urban and sleek, and at one end of the countertop, where there was an overhang, two place settings were arranged in front of a pair of stools. A white candle was lit, the flame lazy on top of its diminishing wax pedestal.
“Oh, this smells fantastic.” She slid up onto one of the stools. “Italian. And you said you could only make one thing.”
“Yeah, I really slaved over this.” He turned toward the oven with a flourish and removed a flat pan with…
Ehlena burst out laughing. “French-bread pizza.”
“Only the best for you.”
“DiGiorno?”
“Of course. And I splurged on the supreme kind. I figured you could pick off what you don’t like.” He used a pair of sterling-silver tongs to transfer the pizzas onto the plates and then put the baking sheet back on the top of the stove. “I have red wine, too.”
As he came over with the bottle, all she could do was stare up at him and smile.
“You know,” he said as he poured some into her glass, “I like the way you’re looking at me.”
She put her hands over her face. “I can’t help it.”
“Don’t try. It makes me feel taller.”
“And you’re not small to begin with.” She tried to get a grip, but just felt like giggling as he filled his own glass, put the bottle down, and took a seat next to her.
“Shall we?” he said, picking up his knife and fork.
“Oh, my God, I’m glad you do that, too.”
“Do what?”
“Eat pizza with a knife and fork. The other nurses at work give me such a hard…” She let the sentence drift. “Well, anyway, I’m glad there’s someone like me.”
There was the sound of crispy bread splintering under knife blades as they both worked on their dinner.