Benedict's counterpart, Alex, met them at the house. He and Benedict stared at each other for a moment, then each gave a small nod, and Alex vanished into the house. He was replaced by a middle-aged woman in a brown dress—Sabra Ewings, Victor's daughter.
Sabra invited them in, told them their car would be moved to a parking area once they'd gotten their things from it, and apologized for having only a single room for the four of them. "We weren't expecting to need more, you see, and with the memorial and the naming, we have no empty rooms." She managed a strained smile. "Victor isn't up to leaving his room yet, I'm afraid, but he bids you welcome."
Lily thought they should turn around and head for Harrison-burg, where there were hotels. That, apparently, would be a major insult. "They can try to kill your father, but you're not supposed to insult them?" Lily said dryly when they reached the privacy of their single, cramped room.
Rule set their suitcase on the bed. "From this point on, it's wise to assume that anything we say is overheard."
Lupus hearing. Great. They had to be diplomatic in private, too. Pity she didn't have his hearing. They could have insulted their hosts by subvocalizing—speaking under the tongue, they called it. They did it without moving their lips, speaking so softly only another nearby lupus could hear.
At one point, she'd been able to hear it. The mate bond had briefly blurred the lines between his Gifts and hers, but it hadn't lasted. Nor had it happened again. Rule thought it might have been a one-time deal; the bond had been brand-new, and a new mate bond was powerful.
Lily looked around the room. They lacked privacy visually as well. The single window had lace curtains, no shades. The bed was a four-poster covered by a faded chenille spread; there was a small chest of drawers but no nightstand. Though the furniture was minimal, so was the room. There was barely enough floor space on either side of the bed for a pair of sleeping bags.
If they'd had them. "You didn't bring sleeping bags, did you?"
"Lily." Cullen's voice was reproachful. "Are you saying you won't share? And after I spent most of the day in your bed, too."
"What the hell are you—" But he was grinning, pleased with himself for having gotten a rise out her. So she stopped talking and threw a pillow at him.
He fended it off and plopped down on the bed, still grinning.
"Get your feet off the bed," she told him.
Rule was more direct, swiping Cullen's feet to one side. "Don't get comfortable yet. We still have to unload Lily's arsenal."
"I feel sure the rest of you can…" Cullen's voice trailed off.
Everyone but Lily looked at the door. A few seconds later, someone knocked on it. Rule gave Benedict a nod, and he opened it.
"I came to see him. I'm Roland Miller, Paul's father, and I came to see him."
Benedict stood aside.
The man who entered was smaller than anyone in the room except Lily. His hair was black, his eyes dark brown; he wore the ubiquitous lupus uniform of jeans, but he'd dressed them up with a faded blue work shirt. He held himself stiffly.
He looked very much like Paul—older and weary with his grief, but much like Paul. Impulsively, Lily moved forward. "Mr. Miller, I'm so sorry. Paul was very brave. I don't know if that's any consolation, but…" Her voice trailed away.
He was looking right past her. She might have been a mosquito buzzing in his ear for all he noticed. No, he might have swatted at a mosquito. His attention was all for Rule. "You submitted to my son."
"I did, to save him from being shot by an overly zealous police officer."
"Didn't save him for long, did you?" He looked Rule up and down. "I'll accept a son's duty from you tomorrow. Eight o'clock, in the meeting field, north end." With that he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
"Did he ignore me because he's grieving?" Lily asked the room in general. "Or because I'm female?"
"Got it in two, luv," Cullen said from his sprawl on the bed. "You'll find that most male Leidolf ignore you unless you badge 'em. Or unless they're propositioning you."
"They'll be polite," Benedict said. He'd taken off his suit jacket and was hanging it in the tiny closet. "I'll be there. Rule will be there. They'll be polite."
But they wouldn't see anything wrong in hitting on her with Rule standing right beside her, and they'd ignore her otherwise. "Paul wasn't like that."
"You met Paul in the outside world. You're in their clanhome now," Rule said. "Consciously or not, many of them will fall into the old ways." .
"Are they going to expect me to eat in the kitchen with the womenfolk?"
The total silence that met her made her jaw drop. "You're kidding," she said. "Tell me you're kidding."
"You won't have to accept," Rule said. "But Sabra will invite you to join her and a few of the women… ah, in the kitchen."
Oh, this was going to be fun. She could hardly wait to see what tomorrow would bring.
DAWN broke cold and clear. Lily learned that by twitching aside the bedspread Rule had draped over the curtain rod for privacy. The window was cold to the touch; the sky was wiped clean of the clouds that had drizzled on them for days.
It was also quiet, for which she thanked any gods who might be listening.
They'd ended up eating in their room. If that offended Sabra, Lily figured she could live with it. She'd had this irrational certainty that she shouldn't let Rule out of her sight, and maybe he'd felt the same way, because he hadn't argued. After dinner, Cullen had taken off—planning to listen to gossip, he said. Needing to get rid of the fidgets, she thought.
The rest of them had played poker. Neither of the men had been concentrating on the game. She was up $10.75 and Cullen was still gone when they turned out the lights.
She hadn't slept well. Cuddling with Rule generally soothed her, but generally they cuddled after making love. That hadn't been an option with his brother sleeping on the floor beside the bed, and her body hadn't appreciated the neglect.
Funny how fast her body had turned greedy on her. Not long ago it was entirely used to that sort of neglect. She'd given it a stern lecture and done her best to relax.
The lupi camped outside had other ideas about how to relax. For them it was party time.
Oh, not with alcohol. It was possible, Rule said, for a lupus to get drunk if he really worked at it, but since the effects wouldn't last more than ten or fifteen minutes, it wasn't worth the effort. But the clan had been glad to get together, and they'd expressed that loudly—fighting, singing, yelling, laughing, dancing around a huge bonfire…
Yipping. Howling.
Cullen had returned about two a.m. She'd still been awake.
Hygiene got a bit of a pass that morning; people, people, everywhere, and only two bathrooms in the house. She and Rule dressed first. Beneath jacket and shirt, he wore the charm Cullen had made for him. It may have been working. He hadn't had a blackout since putting it on.
She went into the hall so Benedict and Cullen could dress. Not that any of the men would object to her remaining, but she felt better not knowing what Rule's brother looked like naked. Rule chose to wait out there with her, mostly so he could offer an opinion on whether she should leave her weapon in the room.
It was a short discussion. No way in hell was she stirring out of their room unarmed. She slid her phone in her jacket pocket and changed the subject. "Is that charm Cullen made helping?"
He gave her a sharp look. "I didn't tell you about the charm."
"You didn't tell me about your other blackouts, either, but I'm a detective. I detected them. And you don't usually wear a chicken feather around your neck, so I deduced that it came from Cullen."
He was silent a moment. "No memory gaps. Not since I put on the charm. I, ah, expected you to be angry that I didn't tell you about the blackouts."