Page 16 of White Raven
Sarah cracked the window in Athan’s car, allowing chilly air inside as she flicked ashes from her cigarette. They tried, more often than not, to refrain from lighting up while in his car, but Athan had said today was going to be one of those exceptions, as both of them clearly had way too much going on in their heads. She looked over to where he flicked his lighter shut and lowered his own cigarette between his tattooed fingers. The shuffle of his jet-black strands over his brow when he let the window down on his side left her stare lingering on his high cheekbones, and the hard curve of his jaw. He glanced over at her.
“I’m already toeing the line of telling Stratford to suck my dick and call a cab. You keep looking at me like that and he’ll be a lot lonelier today.”
“Do men like being called beautiful?” Sarah asked, her two fingers lingering over her lips while she pulled on her cigarette. Athan shot another look over at her.
“Depends. I didn’t much care for it when it was coming from some sweaty inmate at the prison when I had to go.”
Sarah choked on her smoke, laughing. The way he looked at her then…the way he softened—it did something to her. He had been so distant and shut down when they’d first met. So guarded and quiet. It was rare that anyone had ever seen him genuinely smile. Heard him crack a joke. Generally relax. Sarah had known it was something like love she had felt pretty early on. Definitely an attraction that was stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. Butnow…now it was just…
“I fucking love you, Athan Kane. I just wanted you to know that.”
He slowed to a stop at a traffic light and leaned over, curling his fingers under her chin and bringing her closer. The kiss he planted on her lips…it was just as intense as it was slow. Deliberate. Claiming. When he broke away, she found herself breathless.
“I love you. And I do know that.”
The ride was silent for a few minutes, as Sarah tried to get the sudden heat between her thighs under control. That need for him was so much more demanding since she’d turned, and it was harder to get a grip on than she liked to admit. It got her thinking. “Devin.”
Athan tossed his face in her direction. “Yeah? What about him?”
“Are some vampires just more…horny like that? Not that I have a problem thoroughly wrecking you all the time, but…I don’t necessarily wanna become…obnoxious.”
Athan cackled. She loved that sound. “You would never be obnoxious. Especially where it concernedwrecking me—which I’d be happy to accommodate, by the way.” He let the wind carry his cigarette butt out the window. “But, yes…I think some vampires are more inclined to be that way. Devin though? He was a shameless slut long before he turned. Don’t pay him any damn mind.”
“Somebody with his…problem…probably didn’t have much issue with living the life you all must have lived under her, huh?” Sarah asked, discarding her cigarette and rolling up her window.
“He did,” Athan said, turning left. “Devin didn’t talk about his dislikes very much. He generally went with the flow and did what he was told. But nobody likes being shackled, Sarah. His disgust for her was there. Even if he didn’t mind his‘duties’ too much. It’s hard to respect someone that treated us the way she did. She honestly believed that because we were immortal, she was giving us some luxurious life. While some in the coven enjoyed that life, most just simply existed.”
“Do you think my father is that way?” Just referring to him as her father felt weird. Misplaced. Wrong.
“I wouldn’t know, love. I hope not. If what Tony said about him was true, and the younger John Allan sought to help one of Dahlia’s pets…maybe there’s some of that humanity still there. I would think if other covens looked at him with honor, maybe he’s still worthy?”
Sarah’s mouth twitched. “If he was that decent of a man…where the hell has he been?”
Athan reached over, grabbing her hand. They didn’t say anything else as he pulled into the parking structure at the hospital. She didn’t really expect an answer to that question anyway. She could feel his understanding in the way he clutched her to his side as they walked the halls to Brent’s room. Maybe John Allan had his reasons. Maybe he ultimately hadn’t wanted this life for her. But hewasstill her father. Whether he meant to be or not. It suddenly felt very possible that the gift he’d made sure to leave on her doorstep wasn’t intended for Athan like Rhaena had suspected. For whatever reason…it unsettled her more.
Brent was standing next to his bed with his back turned toward them when they knocked on the open door. His doctor was next to him—an unusually pretty girl—speaking quietly as she pointed out various things on what looked to be his discharge paperwork. He looked so much better than she expected. His sweater seemed a little looser on him, and maybe his pants weren’t as filled out as they once had been, but…for someone who had recently been shot, it was hard to believe.They both turned toward them as she and Athan stepped into the room.
“Hey,” Brent smirked, shoving a small stack of paper into his briefcase.
“Bad time?” Sarah asked, glancing at his doctor. The woman pulled her glasses off and stuck them in one of the deep pockets on her white coat.
“Nah, just packing up. Hey, Kane.” Brent’s sandy hair tossed over his forehead as he jerked his chin up at Athan. That would nevernotbe strangely unattractive. When Athan did it, it made her knees weak. Maybe she had never actually been in love with Brent at all. Sarah tucked that shame away, never to resurface again.
“Stratford,” Athan nodded once, offering a tight smile.
“This is Dr. Ambrose.” Brent gestured toward her, and she extended a hand to Sarah first. They politely shook, and then she gave the same courtesy to Athan.
“Pleasure to meet you both,” the young doctor smiled, clutching her clipboard. “I’m assuming you’re the ones seeing him home?”
“You’re observant,” Sarah smiled, Athan chuckling softly at her back. She knew he wouldn’t soon forget the first real conversation they’d ever had. Brent didn’t find the exchange very amusing. He shot her a glare. “Sorry, yes. I’ll be taking him.” Dr. Ambrose awkwardly took her rudeness, and smiled back at Sarah, glancing first at Brent, and then towards the open door.
“Umm…right. If I could just borrow you for a moment? I just have to go over the paperwork and have you sign.”
Sarah followed her out, and they stopped at the nurse’s desk. The doctor pointed out the places that needed her signature, and a few slips of handwritten prescriptions. One in particular caught Sarah’s attention.
“Antidepressants?” Sarah asked, singling it out. Dr. Ambrose’s attention flittered through the blinds where Brent and Athan were talking about God only knew what, and then shifted back to her. She leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Yeah, listen…um…he’s gonna try to put off that he’s fine. He may even try to tell you that he doesn’t need to talk to anyone. When Mr. Stratford first got here, I thought—weallthought he’d be spending a great deal more time in this hospital and I’d have time to really target the trauma he’s been through. And not just the physical kind. He’s made a very miraculous recovery, and other than some heavy scarring, I fear that the injuries wedon’tsee are going to take their toll on him when he’s alone.” Dr. Ambrose sighed deeply. “It’s my understanding that he doesn’t have many people he can turn to. I would really suggest keeping a close eye on him. If you can…try to speak with him about taking my advice and using the referral I’ve given him to confide in a professional. I worry that if he doesn’t, then it may not matter how quickly he healed on the outside. If you catch my meaning.”
