Black Of Mood (Quentin Black: Shadow Wars #2): Quentin Black World

by JC Andrijeski

  When I only blinked at him, confused on which thing he was asking me exactly, and even more confused by the note of accusation in his voice on that last part, he clenched his jaw. Stepping back slightly, he shifted his weight on his feet, folding his arms.

  His voice came out lower than before.

  “Do you really not want me?” he said. “Is it because of the light thing? Or are you trying to get me to open? At the most inconvenient fucking time imaginable?”

  My eyes widened more. “Not want you? What the hell are you talking about? You’ve been putting me off in that area since before we left for New York!”

  When he frowned harder, clicking at me, I stepped closer, grabbing his arms. Real worry went through me that time. I found myself sending heat into his skin, gripping him harder when he started to pull away from me.

  “Damn it. I wish you’d stop speaking in code.” Biting my lip, I looked up, holding his gaze. “I want you, all right? To be honest, I want you a hell of a lot right now. I don’t even know how to act around you half the time, since you flip out whenever I so much as brush against you.” When he clicked at me again, angrily that time, I sharpened my voice. “I can feel things are weird with you. But no, I don’t understand...” Pausing when he let out a snort, I gripped him harder. “Black, I really don’t understand. Are you waiting for me to push you to talk? Or do you want me to leave you alone for real?”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he growled.

  “What do you think it means?” I snapped. “We’re not handcuffed to one another. I can leave. Go back to San Francisco. Or hell... go anywhere. Somewhere else. Away from you.”

  He stared at me.

  Confusion left his light.

  Like in the elevator car, something in him nearly blanked out.

  Along with that, I felt a hurt so intense, it closed my throat. Fighting my light’s reaction to the emotion there, I bit my lip, fighting an urge to apologize, to touch him again.

  Shaking his head a second time, he clicked his tongue, avoiding my gaze.

  His eyes showed him to be thinking when he looked up next.

  I saw a thread of worry there, too, what bordered on fear.

  “Miri, I don’t want you to leave.” When I firmed my jaw, shaking my head, his voice grew rougher. “Miri. I really don’t want you to leave. But we can’t talk about this here. I’m not blowing you off... I’m not rejecting you, goddamn it. I’m sorry I haven’t been more open with you about all of this. I really thought you knew why, but if you don’t, we can talk about it. Absolutely. We can work on all of that, but not here, okay? You open my light here and I’m going to fuck you on one of these goddamned lounge chairs. Probably after putting you over my knee and whacking you a few times for screwing with my goddamned head.”

  Pain slid through me at his words. I fought it back, along with the anger that rose with it. I followed his pointing thumb, taking in the view of the pool and the fairy lights surrounding it.

  He motioned towards my body next, with another graceful flourish.

  “And you pick now to do this. Now, when you’re wearing that, for fuck’s sake. Jesus, Miri. Where did you get that goddamned dress?”

  I flinched, feeling my cheeks flush. “Jonas. He picked it out.”

  “I’m going to fire that pervy piece of shit.”

  I bit my lip, but forced myself not to rise to that, either.

  Glancing down at the dress, I frowned. It was a bit much, but I honestly thought that’s what Black wanted. He’d specifically used the words ‘sexy’ and ‘distracting’ for this. I thought Jonas’ choice pretty much fit the bill. Cut low in front, it had a cinched waist above a high hemline in front, showing off most of my legs, along with silky black stockings and part of a black garter. The back part of the dress was a flowing length of pale violet, light and silky and falling to my lower calves. I figured as far as distractions went, it covered the bases, since it showed off my chest and legs in equal measure, especially with the high heels.

  After another long pause, he exhaled, more frustration coming off him in a cloud.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You look good... you look fucking gorgeous, Miri, and I know I asked you to dress hot for this. I’m just not in the best space to deal with it right now. And every guy on my fucking team was staring at you... and I’m not in the best space to deal with that, either.”

  Nodding, I met his gaze, my voice neutral. “Okay. So do you want me to change clothes?”

  He glared at me. “No, I don’t want you to change your fucking clothes! What kind of a goddamned prick do you think I am?”

  I bit my lip, tempted to give him a real answer.

  In the end, I only nodded. “Just to be clear, you’re agreeing that we’ll talk? When we get back to our hotel?”

  He exhaled again, still sounding annoyed. “We can talk about whatever you want, Miri. Whenever you want. I’ll even do it here, if you really want to. I’ll do it right now. But we have to get a room, if you want to do that. I’m not doing it at a damned dinner party, in front of a bunch of assholes I barely know while they quaff cocktails and stare down the front of your dress. So if this can’t wait, let’s go. Now.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It can wait.” When he scowled, I nudged his arm. “Just don’t drink too much, okay? So I can talk to you later.”

  He clicked at me again, but that time, his anger had lost some of its edge.

  Instead I felt another whisper of that fear leave his light.

  He stared at me in the dress, and that fear grew worse.

  The elevator pinged behind us. I turned, realizing the doors were about to let out another carload of guests. When I turned back, I saw Black frown. He looked at my dress again, clicking as he stared at the heels I wore, which were a pale violet to match the dress. I watched his eyes study my legs, right before he exhaled, offering me his arm.

  “I’m an asshole,” he muttered.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “You really are.”

  He grunted, but that time, I heard the humor there.

  I took his arm when he offered it a second time, looking him over as he’d looked at me. I couldn’t help noticing that time, how insanely good he looked in the tux.

  “Not helping, Miri,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  I smiled, unable to help it. “Gotcha. Sorry.” Even as it came out of my mouth, I shook my head. “Or maybe I’m not sorry. I still don’t know what the hell we’re even talking about, Black. Anyway, you look hot. Deal with it.”

  He grunted, shaking his head.

  By then, he’d already started to turn with me towards the party. Hearing the doors open behind us, I followed him, stepping carefully in the high heels.

  If we’re going to talk about us, I want to talk about the marriage thing again too, Miri, he murmured in my mind. I’m done with this secret marriage bullshit.

  I stopped, looking up at him.

  He tugged on my hand and arm though, not looking at me as he continued to lead me towards the pool. Scattered groups of people stood closer to us now, talking quietly amongst themselves. I smiled at a couple I recognized as we walked by.

  Not here, Miri, Black murmured in my mind. I just want you to know it’s coming.

  That sounds like a threat, I joked, still looking around at the crowd.

  I hadn’t been serious, but that time, Black came to a stop.

  “Maybe it is,” he growled, glaring at me.

  Without warning, he dropped my hand, taking a step back. I found myself meeting his gaze in bewilderment as he faced me, now standing a few feet away.

  Before I could recover, he turned, presenting me with his back as he walked away with those cat-like strides of his. I watched him go, speechless, noting his direction as he aimed his feet for the bar. I was still staring at him when he reached it. I was too far away to hear him by then, but I frowned as I watched him lean over to say something to the female bartender. I couldn’t hel
p thinking he probably wasn’t going to keep his promise about not drinking much, either.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  Before I could get very far in that line of thinking, two men I’d met earlier that week stepped in front of my line of sight, temporarily blocking my view of Black and the bar.

  “Dr. Fox,” one of them said, smiling at me as his eyes stared at my chest. “How lovely to see you! You’re Black’s plus-one, I take it?”

  “Lucky bastard,” the man to his right grumbled, grinning at me when I turned.

  Smiling stiffly at both of them, I nodded. Trying to make it a joke, I rolled my eyes. “That would be me. The plus-one. Not like I expect to see him most of the night.”

  Both of them laughed, a little too loudly.

  “You don’t have a drink?” The blond one spoke as if shocked, looking around, maybe for alcohol, or maybe for Black. “Where is that rogue? Has he no manners?”

  “He had to go talk to someone,” I lied.

  “Figures. Guy’s got a one-track mind.” The blond’s friend, with the dark brown hair, smiled at me. He was definitely the more handsome of the two. “I guess there’s never enough money in the world for some people.” He smiled wider, an overt twinkle in his eye. “I wish I could say that’s uncommon in New York, but it’s probably the norm.”

  I smiled back. “I thought this was just a big game for all of you.”

  The blond one grunted. “Not for me. Maybe it will be when I get to Black’s level.”

  “Most of us can juggle two, even three tracks at a time,” the brown-haired one added, upping the wattage of his smile. “Although if Black’s got you on his arm, maybe he figures he’s got that end covered.”

  Flagging down a waiter, the blond one grabbed a glass of white wine for me off his tray, putting it into my hand and stroking my fingers in the process. I’m not really a fan of white wine, and the touchy-feely maneuver annoyed me, but I took the glass as graciously as I could, smiling a thanks and acting oblivious.

  For the next few minutes, I did my best to look interested as they gossiped about people they knew, who was doing what in terms of trading and investments, the skyrocketing price of oil since the Texas attack, and whether or not the State Department would order sanctions against China. A few others joined us somewhere in that, and I let the blond one introduce me.

  Already their faces and companies were starting to blur together.

  When I looked over next, Black was watching me from by the bar, a harder look in his gold eyes. He took a long drink of something that definitely wasn’t beer as he held my gaze.

  I didn’t flip him off.

  But for the first time in a very long time, I wanted to.

  11

  ARE WE LAUGHING NOW?

  BLACK IGNORED ME for over two hours.

  Truthfully, I was doing my best to forget he was there, too, especially when I saw a group of women lingering around him where he was holding court with a few of the gray-haired big-money types over by the pool.

  To his credit, I didn’t see him playing games with me on that front, at least. He barely seemed to notice the women there at all, apart from those who were clearly here for the same reason he was. He appeared to be really working, doing what he came here to do, but I had trouble not wanting to watch him do it, anyway.

  I glimpsed Cowboy and Ace here and there, moving like shadows around the perimeter of the massive penthouse patio, both of them wearing suits that made them more or less fit in, although with Cowboy it was probably “less” to Ace’s “more.”

  Like with Black, something about Cowboy just didn’t blend.

  Things didn’t really get better for me until Larry Farraday showed up, with Angel and Nick in tow. I still hadn’t seen Mozar. I asked Nick where he was and he’d pursed his lips, puzzled. He’d expected Mozar to get here ahead of us, he said, based on their last conversation.

  Once Farraday wandered off to talk to a few business associates, Nick, Angel and I ended up sitting at a table under a trellis covered in white flowers and pale green vines, sipping colorful blended drinks while we nibbled on caviar and a charcuterie platter that stood on our table. I tried not to feel guilty about hiding from most of the guests as I picked over the tray covered in smoked meats, cheeses, olives, pickles and toasted crostini.

  At that point I’d stopped caring about saving room for dinner. Truthfully, I was trying to decide if I should just leave before dinner was served. Now that I’d ditched the horny Wall Street guys, I highly doubted anyone would care.

  Black himself might not even care. He clearly didn’t need me here.

  On the other hand, there’d be an empty place next to him at the dinner table, and I didn’t want to put him in the position of having to explain away my absence. I also didn’t want to have to explain myself to Nick and Angel, and I definitely would have to tell them something, if I suddenly announced I was going back to the hotel.

  So I stayed where I was.

  “Is he okay, doc?” a soft voice asked.

  I turned, and found myself facing Angel. I hadn’t realized I was staring at Black until she spoke. Now I felt strangely caught.

  I followed her gaze back to where Black leaned against a barstool on the other side of the pool, talking to a lean, handsome man with iron gray hair who I was pretty sure was our host, Ben Frasier. Whatever the two were talking about, they looked pretty absorbed.

  Glancing back at Angel, then at Nick, who was also watching me, I shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. I picked at the crostini with cheese that sat on the napkin in front of me. “He’s definitely acting strange. But that’s nothing new, really. He’s been acting strange since we got back from Louisiana.”

  Watching Black again, I shook my head, more decisively that time.

  “No,” I said, blunt. “No. I don’t think he is okay. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

  Nick grunted. “Guy can afford a shrink, can’t he?”

  I glanced at him, frowning.

  “One that’s not his wife,” Nick said, speaking lower as he glanced around for anyone who might hear us. “Has he seen anyone at all since everything happened?”

  I shook my head, sighing. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Why not?” Angel said.

  I looked over at her. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve mentioned it to him?”

  Thinking about our last conversation, I let out a humorless grunt.

  Then I shook my head, saying it anyway.

  “We were more or less fighting about that very thing on the elevator ride up here. I still don’t know the answer to the question of whether we’ve really ‘talked’ about it or not. Which probably means the answer is no.”

  Angel and Nick exchanged a look. Then Angel spoke up again.

  “Did he say why he won’t do it?”

  I shook my head, picking at the crostini again. “No. He claims he’ll talk to me about it. But I agree I’m probably not the best person. I suspect he doesn’t want to see another psychologist because a lot of it has to do with things he can’t really talk about.”

  “What things? You mean seer things?” Angel said, lowering her voice as well.

  “Well, yes, obviously. But that’s not all I meant.”

  “Then what?” Nick said, frowning.

  I let out an annoyed sound, staring at him. “I mean, Naoko, that the jail stuff triggered a hell of a lot more than just the normal fears around death and incarceration for Black. It brought up a whole slew of stuff from when he was a kid... stuff he’s never really dealt with, or likely even admitted to himself. Stuff he’s definitely never told me.”

  Looking away from Nick’s widening eyes, I frowned, going back to picking at my food.

  “He was a slave when he was a kid,” I said, blunt. I met his gaze, then Angel’s. “Brick likely did a lot of the same things to him as what happened to him back then. Collared him. Imprisoned him. Hurt him.
Threatened him. Cut off his sight. Made him work for him...” I started to say more, then bit my lip, shaking my head. “I’m pretty sure that’s what’s hitting him the hardest. Not that he’s told me that. He hasn’t actually told me much of anything. But I feel things.”

  Frowning, I continued to toy with the bread.

  “I suspect he convinced himself that it could never happen to him here,” I said after another pause. “He’s having trouble processing that it did... and he doesn’t feel safe. He doesn’t feel like he can keep me safe either. I’m not sure how to help him with that. I’m not even sure if I can. I seem to make it worse a lot of the time, without even trying. Sometimes I think I should just leave. Go somewhere with my uncle’s people for awhile, so he has one less thing to worry about. I’m worried that might only make him shut down more, though.”

  Nick looked about to say something, then frowned, glancing at Angel.

  Angel gave him a worried look in return.

  Noting their expressions, I wondered suddenly if I should be telling them any of this. Meaning private, intimate things about my husband’s childhood.

  Before I could second-guess that for real, Nick spoke up, his voice cautious.

  “What about your uncle?” he said. “Does he have anyone? You know...” He motioned vaguely by his head with the hand holding the beer bottle. “...like seer shrinks, or whatever?”

  I frowned, thinking. “I don’t know.”

  Still thinking, I glanced towards Black, watching him where he leaned against the bar. I could feel the wall around his light, even from all the way across the pool.

  “That’s a good idea, Nick. I’ll talk to Charles about it.” I continued to think, still watching Black. “They’re at least from that world. They’d know what he went through, and which parts of it Brick might have triggered. I don’t know enough to be of much help. He seems embarrassed to tell me anything about that part of his life... at least in any detail.” I looked back at the food on my napkin, shaking my head. “With most of this, I’ve been pretty useless.”