Page 53 of The Mourning Throne
“People are still people. We breathe. We bleed. We desire. That doesn’t suddenly change when you cross time zones.”
Picking up the water glass, Lex held it out in a mock toast. “Good luck is all I’m saying.”
The one thing Morgan didn’t need was luck.
Perhaps, in the beginning, he had leaned on it—those early days, full of messy, hesitant kills and shaking hands. Back when his nighttime activities felt like a waking dream. Before he learned to study expressions like language, noted every flicker of fear or want or uncertainty.
But now, it was second nature.
Luck was for amateurs.
The restaurant wasn’t quiet. That helped.
Quiet meant more eyes. Potential boredom from people on bad dates, or business meetings gone dry. It meant someone—whoever they were, whatever the case may be—was going to see something.
Their server came around, dessert and coffees in hand.
Young, flustered. Trying desperately to be professional.
First day jitters?
It wasn’t something Morgan noticed at first—unimportant, filed away at the back of his mind—but maybe it would do in a pinch.
“Connor,” Morgan said, eyeing the name tag fastened to the front of the button-up. “We were thinking of going somewhere after. Do you have any recommendations for the area?”
The verbal response wasn’t important.
No.
What Morgan needed was aphysicalresponse. A small swallow, a shift in the eyes. Something that read at least vaguely interested.
And their server had none of those.
In fact…
Morgan may have misreadfirst day jittersin its entirety.
Connor was more interested in getting out of here—glancing over his shoulder, up at the clock by their table—than answering Morgan’s question.
Easy enough. One less person to cross off his list.
Lex’s foot hit his under the table.
“You can throw in the towelany time,” Lex mumbled around a forkful of chocolate cake. “I’ll just laugh.”
Morgan sighed. “You are so very skilled at so many things. Do you understand that? The potential is overwhelming, but you lack patience.”
“You sound like my damn high school teachers.”
“Well, they were right.”
Morgan picked up the coffee and took a sip.
All around them: chatter, laughter, bodies in motion. The bar was crowded, crammed with couples leaning in close and coworkers laughing too loud.
And then there was one. Alone.
If Lex hadn’t perfected theI’m bored, entertain melook, Morgan would’ve awarded the title to the young doorman. Leaning against the frame. One hand on the handle. The other gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His gaze was unfocused, face slack in a way that spoke more than any conversation.
