Lover Avenged(166)

Rehv had waited until the last doggen had left, and then he had gone into his stepfather’s study and found the male poring over documents at his desk. In his fury, Rehv had taken care of the male the old-fashioned way, measuring blow for blow, exacting the pain inflicted upon his mother first before ushering the son of a bitch to his royal, undeserved reward.

When the front doorbell had rung, Rehv had assumed it was the staff coming back and giving him notice so that they could credibly state that they hadn’t seen the killer at work. Needing one last fuck-you, he’d fist-cracked his stepfather’s skull hard enough to knock the bastard shellan-beater’s spine out of alignment.

Moving quickly, Rehv had stepped free of the body, willed the front door to the mansion open, and left out of the French doors in the back. Having the doggen come home to “find” the body was perfect, as the subspecies was by nature docile and would never be implicated in the violence. Besides, by that time, his symphath side was roaring, and he’d needed to get himself under control.

Which, back in those days, hadn’t included dopamine. He’d had to use pain to tame the sin-eater in him.

Everything had seemed like it had fallen into place…until he’d learned at the clinic that Montrag’s father had found the body. Turned out to be no big deal, though. As far as the male had said at the time, Rehm had walked in, come upon the scene, and called Havers. By the time the doctor had arrived, the staff had returned, and blamed their group absence on the fact that it was the summer solstice and they had been out preparing for the ceremonies that would be held that week.

Montrag’s dad had played this well, and so had the son. Any emotional disturbances Rehv had picked up either back then or during that meeting mere days ago he’d chalked up to fresh death and assassination, both of which had been in the cards.

God, it was clear, so clear, what Montrag had been doing in having Rehv arrange to kill Wrath. After the deed was done, he’d been ready to come out with the affidavit exposing Rehv as both a murderer and a symphath so that when Rehv was deported, he could assume control of not just the council but the whole race.

Nice.

Too bad it didn’t work out as he’d planned. Brought a tear to the fucking eye, didn’t it.

“Yeah, there’s gotta be more affidavits,” Rehv murmured. “No one sends their only live copy out into the world.”

“Would be worth a visit to that house,” Wrath said. “Montrag’s heirs and assigns get hold of something like this, we’ve all got problems, feel me?”

“He died without issue, but yeah, there’s some of his bloodline around somewhere. And I’m going to make sure that they don’t find out about this.”

No way in hell anyone was making him break the vow he’d made to his mother.

Not gonna happen.





FIFTY




As Ehlena did her shopping at the twenty-four-hour Hannaford supermarket she always went to, she should have been in a better mood. Things couldn’t have been left on a sweeter note with Rehv. When he’d had to go to his meeting, he’d taken a quick shower and let her pick out his clothes and even do up his tie. Then he’d wrapped his arms around her and they’d just stood together, heart-to-heart.

Eventually, she’d walked him outside into the hall and waited with him for the elevator to come. Its arrival had been announced on a chime and a slide of the double doors, and he’d held the things open to kiss her once, twice. A third time. Finally, he’d stepped back and as the twin doors shut, he’d held up his phone, pointed to it, and pointed to her.

The fact that he would be calling her made the good-bye much easier. And she loved the idea that the black suit and crisp white shirt and bloodred tie he had on were what she had chosen for him.

So, yeah, she should be happier. Especially because her financial squeeze had been eased a little with the loan from the First Rehvenge Bank amp; Trust Company.

But Ehlena was jumpy as hell.

She stopped in the juice aisle, in front of the neat rows of Ocean Spray Cran-everything-and-his-uncles, and looked over her shoulder. Just more juice on the left and arrangements of granola bars and cookies on the right. Farther down, there were the checkouts, most of which were closed, and beyond that, the dark glass windows of the store.

Someone was following her.

Ever since she’d gone back into Rehv’s penthouse, gotten dressed herself, and dematerialized off the terrace after locking up.

Four CranRas bottles went into her cart, and then she headed for the cereal aisle and across to the paper towels and the toilet paper. In the meat department, she picked up a ready-made roasted chicken that looked like it had been taxidermied rather than cooked, but at this point, she just needed some protein she didn’t have to oven-up herself. Then it was steak for her father. Milk. Butter. Eggs.