“
The second he caught her scent, he stopped. “Leelan! Are you sure you should be up?”
Turned out the smell of the food was one hell of a distraction: the spike of hunger she got in response enough to halt her in her tracks.
“Ah . . . yeah, I feel okay. I’m hungry, actually.”
As well as scared to death.
While the staff continued on into the billiards room, filing in past some sheets of heavy plastic, Wrath came over to the base of the stairs. “Let’s get you into the kitchen.”
Heading all the way down to join him, she let him take her arm, and leaned into his strength, taking a deep, easing breath. She’d probably just imagined everything up there. Really. Probably. Crap.
“You know, I slept well,” she murmured as if to reassure herself. Which didn’t work.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hm.”
Together, they walked past the long dining table, and went through the flap door in the far corner. On the other side, iAm was once again at the stove, stirring a great pot. The Shadow turned—and immediately frowned as he looked at her.
“What?” She put her hands to her stomach. “What are you—”
“Nothing,” he said, banging his wooden spoon on the steel vat. “You two like chicken soup?”
“Oh, yes, that sounds perfect.” Beth hopped up onto a stool. “And some bread maybe—”
Fritz materialized at her elbow with a baguette and a plate with butter. “For you, madam.”
She had to laugh. “How did you know?”
As Wrath sat on the stool next to her, George parked it between them. “I had him on standby.”
A steaming bowl of soup was slid in front of her by the Shadow. “Enjoy.”
“Him, too?” she asked of iAm.
“Yeah, the Shadow mighta been on it as well.”
Picking up the spoon Fritz offered her, she dug in, aware the three males were staring at her—Wrath with such intensity, it was almost as if he’d gotten his sight back—
“Mmmmm,” she said—and meant it.
The soup was perfect, simple, not too heavy, and warm, warm, warm. Maybe it was just that she’d been through the needing and not eaten for how long?
“So what’s going on in the billiards room,” she asked, to try to distract the males.
“They’re cleaning up after me.”
She winced. “Ah.”
Wrath patted around for the baguette and broke off the hard end, putting it aside. The piece he then tore for her was soft in the middle, crunchy on the outside—and the butter he put on it was the unsalted, sweet kind. The combo was great with the soup.
“Would you like something to drink?” Fritz asked.
“Wine?” iAm said—before catching himself. “No, not wine. Milk. You need the calcium.”
“Good idea, Shadow,” Wrath chimed in as he nodded at Fritz. “Make it whole—”
“No, no, that will make me gag.”
Annnnd didn’t that stop all of them in their tracks.
“Which was true before all the, well, you know. But the skim does sound good.”
And so it went, the three of them waiting on her:
More soup? iAm hit her bowl again right away.
More bread with butter? Husband was on it.
More milk? The butler raced for the fridge.
”
”
J.R. Ward (The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #12))