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She gave her head a shake. The nature of the secret attack, as well as all she’d been through, seemed to be having an effect on her and not in a good way.
Ben’s here, she pathed to Ian. She slid into the booth, the high maroon leather backs creating privacy for them.
I see him. I wonder what’s going on.
Ben lifted his gaze from his phone and smiled. As Regan drew her menu into her hand, Ian waved for Ben to join them.
When Ben drew close, Ian asked. “Everything okay?”
Ben held up his cell. “Yes, very light activity tonight.” He turned toward Regan. “How are you, Mistress? I think it’s been thirty years since we last spoke.”
“At least.” Regan had to admit she’d never been completely at ease around the vampire, though she had no idea why.
During the time she’d dated Ian, Ben and his brother had been two of Ian’s closest friends. Ben’s brother, a mastyr as well, had died at Raven’s Overlook during the massacre.
Maybe that was the reason she felt slightly ill-at-ease. Ben had suffered as both she and Ian had. And from what Ian had told her, Ben had taken his brother’s death very hard.
Ben had long, curly blond hair, pulled back in the Guardsman’s woven clasp. He had a regal bearing, a straight nose and straight brows. He was six-five and well-muscled though not as heavily as Ian. He wore a woven maroon shirt and the Guard outfit that had all eyes in the restaurant turned toward the two, handsome men.
Ben’s smile was warm as he said, “I’ll leave you both to your meals. The shepherd’s pie is outstanding.”
Ian asked him to join them, but he refused. He’d only wanted to touch base in person and to say hello to Regan since he hadn’t had the chance the night before.
As he left, he stopped and chatted with a number of patrons along the way. He had an easy style, a perfect complement to Ian. Regan understood why the two men had been friends for such a long time.
During the meal, Ian grew very quiet as he ate his shepherd’s pie. He’d ordered a local stout, but she wasn’t sure he tasted much of either.
“What’s bothering you?” she asked.
He lifted his gaze to her. “Is it that obvious?”
“Your head’s down and you seem to be pathing with your food.”
At that he smiled. “I want this to go well tonight.” He kept his voice low.
“It will. You’ve done the right thing by keeping it on the down-low.”
His mouth worked and after setting his fork on his plate, he twisted his thumb ring a few times. “I think I need to bring Stone in on this.”
She nodded and using her fork, cut into a chicken filet covered with capers and lemon-butter sauce. “You want to add to the numbers.” By this point she was whispering, afraid to reveal the secret plan to anyone who might be listening in on their conversation.
He switched to telepathy. That’s it exactly. My troops will be too spread out around the perimeter. And once the battling starts, it’s hard for a warrior to retreat even when he’s outnumbered. It goes against every instinct.
She popped the bite into her mouth, following up with a sip of sweet German white wine. What do your instincts tell you?
At that, he chuckled.
“What? Why are you laughing?”
“I forgot how much your faeness slants your advice.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it wasn’t a criticism, I promise you. I’m surrounded by war-making vampires and shifters. We think in terms of weaponry, time and distance, numbers. Your advice leans toward intuition.”
“We divine our answers as much by the subtle vibrations all around us. Like when I first saw Ben, what I noticed as he leaned against the wall checking his texts or email, was the glitter in his eye as though he was getting ready to do battle. I know he wasn’t, but something about his expression didn’t quite jive with being in a restaurant just to say hi to me.”
Ian took a drink of the stout. “In this case, you’re thinking like a fae. You forget, Ben makes war first, above everything else, just as I do. He could have easily been directing one of the squads to move to support another because of an Invictus attack.”
