Damn. Now dinner would prove excruciatingly long. He just knew it.
A half-hour past their reservation time, his prediction had come true. Sighing, he decided to make use of the time.
Swigging ale far inferior to the house brew at Outpour, he stared into Samantha’s lovely eyes and ignored her last comment, asking the question plaguing him for days. “Just how much can you see into the future, and how long have you had such a gift?”
She paused in the act of sipping her wine and blinked. “So much for answering my question about service at Outpour.” She took a larger swallow. “I knew you’d get around to asking me about the dreams sooner or later.”
The hostess interrupted, announcing their table was ready. After seating Samantha, Darius sat across the table and waited to hear her explanation. Suddenly, a long dinner didn’t seem like such a poor way to spend their time together.
“The first dream I recall ever coming true happened when I was four. It was during the holidays and I’d wanted a mini-baking set for Christmas. Well, I ruined any surprise by ‘seeing’ everyone’s gifts the following day.
“I didn’t tell my parents or my sister about the dream. But when I next visited my grandmother I mentioned it. Seems precognition runs in the family. Skips a generation here and there, but basically carries through on my mother’s side.”
“So your grandmother had the gift? Did your mother and sister?”
“No, it skipped Mom and Cheryl. Far as I know, I’m the last Varell, that’s my mother’s maiden name, to have the ‘gift’. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
He studied her, aware of the pain she didn’t mention. He caught an echo in her thoughts of her earlier conversation with Cadmus. “It must be hard, not having anyone to share your ability with.”
She nodded. “Speaking with Cadmus today felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I’m not crazy,” she said firmly, as if he might be harbouring such thoughts. “And it’s nice to talk with someone who understands.”
That ‘someone’ should have been him. He frowned. “Give me a chance, Samantha. I understand more than you might think.”
She flushed and would have answered when the waiter arrived with menus. Once he’d left, Samantha changed the subject.
“So what’s it like having three identical brothers? Growing up with an irritating older sister was bad enough.”
He chuckled. “It has its moments. Despite our looks, each of us is decidedly different, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.”
“You can say that again.”
“But we have our similarities as well. We can sense when one of us is in danger, but nothing more telepathic than a shared feeling of foreboding. We like women.” He playfully leered at her and was gifted with an eye roll and a broad grin. “But more than that, each of us loves our homeland, our people, and not the least our family.”
He smiled, remembering his mother’s warm smile, her strength in the face of his father’s death, and her unique scent, one that always made him feel at home.
“It’s obvious you have a tight family.” She sounded envious.
“And you don’t,” he said softly, again feeling her pain in the wake of what she perceived as a failed relationship.
“No. My sister, as I already mentioned, was irritating in the extreme. It started when she turned five and commandeered all my dolls. It never got any better. My mother and father love me, I know, but we have so little in common it’s pathetic.”
The waiter returned and they quickly ordered. Darius, however, would not let the conversation end, though he sensed Samantha’s relief at the interruption. The insight into her character fascinated him. He wanted to know everything about her, from her likes and dislikes to her dreams and disappointments.
“Do your parents live near?”
“No.” She frowned at his persistence in pursuing the conversation. “They live in Philadelphia near my sister and her husband and three kids. I visit during the holidays when I can, but it’s uncomfortable for all of us. Frankly I’d rather spend my holidays alone, or better yet, working.” She speared a tomato off her plate. “Anything else you wanted to know about the Brooks family, Mr. Nosy?”
He gave her a wry grin and shook his head. Despite the sympathy he felt for her troubled relationships, he couldn’t help rejoicing in her lack of ties to this world.
“What’s with that look in your eyes?” She sounded suspicious.
“What?” he asked, all innocence. “I was just thinking we started talking about your gift and somehow got off track. You never answered my question about how much you can see into the future. Do you still have visions?”
“Well, the vision, I guess you could call it, of that thing with the teeth, that Netharat, and ’Sin Garu was pretty damned powerful.”
“Yes, but that was something else, an insight into the present. What about the future? What have you seen?” He continued to prod, wanting to see more of the sensual dream she’d had of him, the one that every now and then briefly appeared in her mind’s eye.
She blushed scarlet and he knew she’d recalled it, but her inner shields blocked him from seeing it. “There was one dream I had shortly after meeting you.”
He leaned closer, wanting to know what put such a rosy glow on her cheeks. An image of his face tense and hungry over hers, his eyes red and his naked chest looming over her flashed through her mind and into his.
“Looks nice,” he murmured, staring into her eyes.
“Yes, well,” she fumbled lamely, turning back to her food. “I was on a celibacy streak and then I met you.” She sounded irritated and he laughed. Then she glanced up at him, no longer abashed, her eyes intent. “In the dream, just as you were making love to me, you called me ‘affai’.”
His laughter dried up, and he stared in surprise. He searched inwardly for some clever reply but could only come up with, “Really?”
“Really.” She stared at him, quiet while the waiter cleared their plates and brought the main course, two steaming hot dishes of broiled shrimp and crisp, colourful vegetables. “Funny how you and your brothers clam up at mention of the word. Affai. Affai. Whatever can it mean?”
Funny, but the more she said it, the better she looked sitting by his side in the Royal House. Morose thoughts of marriage faded under the strengthening bond between them. His body throbbed to join hers, but as he sat talking to her, he revelled in her intelligence, in her charm and wit. She didn’t bow to him, as so many others had.
“You don’t care at all that I’m a prince, do you?” He had to know.
She started. “Is this another way to distract me from my question? I asked what ‘affai’ meant, and don’t tell me it’s a term of affection. Cadmus almost swallowed his tongue, and I thought Marcus was going to suffer a fit of apoplexy when I asked.”
“You’re not impressed with royalty?” he persisted.
“No.” Her eyes cooled considerably, disdain frosting them into a muted forest green. “I’m not. Just because you come from money or royalty or whatever,” she flailed her hands in the air, “doesn’t make you better than me, than the rest of us.”
Good answer. No, make that, great answer.
“Now are you going to tell me what affai means or do I have to beat it out of you?”
Staring at her, wondering if her tendency towards impatience would complement him or serve as a handicap in their joint rule, he pondered how best to answer.
“Darius,” she growled and he shrugged.
“Fine. But don’t blame me if it’s not what you want to hear.” She didn’t so much as blink and he swore, colourfully and creatively in his native tongue. He hadn’t meant to approach her this way, but what the hell? She’d forced the issue. This was as good a time as any to see what she was made of. He just wished explaining the word didn’t make him look like a stupid, heartsick ass.