Ch33-The First Date

POV: Silas

Silas Blackwood had faced silver knives, rival Alphas, and federal investigators without fear.

He was defeated by a restaurant menu.

“You have been reading the same page for six minutes,” Evelyn said.

“There are too many choices.”

“There are twelve.”

“Exactly.”

She lowered her menu. Candlelight warmed her face. She wore a green sweater, small silver earrings, and the expression of a woman discovering that the feared president of a motorcycle club could be confused by pasta.

“You choose food every day.”

“Usually by pointing at whatever Ronan has not burned.”

“Tonight you have to make your own decision.”

“This date has become controlling.”

Her laugh moved through the bond.

Silas would have endured much worse than a menu to hear it again.

The restaurant stood two towns beyond Grant’s jurisdiction, owned by an elderly wolf couple who had agreed to keep the back room private. No guards sat at their table. Four Reapers watched the street from positions Evelyn had approved, and Maeve remained with Sophie at the cabin.

Safety existed.

It did not sit between them.

That was Evelyn’s rule.

One evening in which the first subject was not Grant, the court, a missing woman, a forged document, or whether a door could be locked from the outside.

“What do you normally order?” she asked.

“Steak.”

“At an Italian restaurant?”

“There is a steak.”

“Of course you found it.”

“What are you getting?”

“Mushroom ravioli.”

“I’ll have that.”

“You hate mushrooms.”

“How do you know?”

“You remove them from every pizza and put them on Ronan’s plate.”

Silas stared at her.

“You noticed.”

“I notice you.”

His wolf stopped pacing.

The server arrived. Silas ordered the steak.

Evelyn waited until the woman left, then smiled into her water.

“Coward.”

“Alive coward.”

Conversation should not have been difficult. Silas could negotiate territory boundaries with hostile Alphas and speak to two hundred club members without notes. Across a small table from Evelyn, every useful thought abandoned him.

“What did you do before the Reapers?” she asked.

“Fought.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is concise.”

“Try again.”

He told her about leaving his father’s pack at nineteen because the old Alpha believed fear created loyalty. He told her about buying his first motorcycle from a salvage yard, rebuilding it with Maeve, and discovering men listened better when they were allowed to leave.

“That is why the Reapers vote on club business?”

“Yes.”

“But you are Alpha.”

“For pack matters. Not every choice a person makes.”

“You learned that from your father?”

“I learned the opposite from him.”

Evelyn traced the condensation on her glass.

“Grant taught me the opposite of things too.”

The name had entered the evening.

Silas did not resent her for it. Trauma ignored reservation times.

“What did he teach you?”

“That peace which requires one person to stay silent is not peace.”

“You are not silent.”

“Not tonight.”

Their food arrived. Evelyn stole one of his roasted potatoes without asking.

“Tell me something useless about yourself,” she said.

“Nothing about me is useless.”

“That answer qualifies.”

He considered. “I can play the piano.”

Evelyn stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. “No, you cannot.”

“Why ask if you intend to reject the information?”

“You wear steel-toed boots to breakfast. Where did you learn?”

“My mother. Maeve learned too. I was better.”

“Does Maeve agree?”

“Her opinion is affected by jealousy.”

Evelyn smiled. “Play for me.”

“No.”

“The terrifying Alpha is frightened of a piano.”

“I am protecting my reputation.”

“Too late. I watched you lose an argument to a coupon.”

He promised one song if she promised not to invite Ronan. She negotiated him down to two songs and permission to tell Sophie.

It was the first future plan they had made that involved no lawyer, guard, doctor, or escape route.

The smallness of it made it feel enormous.

Silas stared at the empty place on his plate.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Your wolf objected?”

“My wolf wants to give you the entire plate and then hunt the kitchen staff for more.”

“That seems excessive.”

“He is not known for moderation.”

She took another potato.

His body responded to the small theft with absurd satisfaction.

“Does he do this with everything?”