Let the Night Begin Read Online Free PDF

could speak.
    â€œDrawing room,” Clarke replied, running a hand over his graying brown hair. “Reign, what’s going on?”
    Since Olivia could hear them if she so chose—and Reign had no doubts that she would eavesdrop if she thought she might learn something to her advantage—he merely smiled and said, “I have no idea.” But he handed his friend a note he had scribbled in the carriage on the drive home.
    Frowning, Clarke opened the missive. Thankfully he’d been Reign’s employee long enough to know not to read aloud. Find out what you can about her .
    Clarke looked up, his dark gaze locking with Reign’s. He looked grim, almost sympathetic, and Reign shook his head in response. He didn’t want sympathy. He had no illusions where Olivia was concerned. He had wanted her back for thirty years and he wanted her still, in his bed and by his side, but he wasn’t going to let that cloud his judgment.
    Women did not forgive without a gesture of atonement. Since he hadn’t made one—hadn’t the chance to—then it stood to reason that Olivia had yet to forgive him. And he’d be damned if he’d make any offer to her now when she might take the opportunity to slit his throat.
    So, if she felt so strongly still, why come asking for the aid of a man she despised? Either she was in deep trouble, or she was looking to exact a little revenge. Perhaps both.
    If he wished to get any closer to the truth before the sun rose in a few hours and burnt him to acrisp as he stood, a baffled idiot, in his front hall, he should attend to his wife.
    He straightened his cuffs and cravat before entering the drawing room. Olivia was at one of the windows, the dark green curtains drawn wide to allow the golden rays of streetlights outside to kiss her raised face. Her eyes were closed, the dark curve of her lashes resting against the soft, honey-hued flesh of her cheek. He loved that every inch of her was shades of gold and bronze with subtle hints of pink. Loved her thick hair, even though she wore it up in a tight bun. Loved her nearly aquiline nose and the faint lines that fanned outward from her eyes. Loved how the tight bodice of her rich plum gown accentuated her waist and round breasts.
    He loved her. Or at least, he had once upon a time.
    â€œPraying?” he inquired with more hauteur than intended.
    Her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, her eyes opened and she turned to face him. Gone was the mature, irresistible woman he had fallen in love with and married, replaced by the hardened creature she had become. That he might have contributed to the change shamed him.
    â€œYou never did approve of me praying,” she remarked in her low, rich voice. At least that remained as he remembered.
    â€œHe’s not listening, so why waste your time?”
    â€œHe listens,” she replied with the blind certainty of one with more faith than sense. “He listens and he answers—if you let yourself hear it.”
    Reign snorted. Horseshit. If that were true, Olivia would have returned to him years ago. She never would have left.
    But she was here now. He wasn’t naive enough to think his prayers had been answered. If anything, she’d been sent to him as punishment for his sins.
    It was awkward, both of them standing so stiffly, so he went to the glossy mahogany cabinet to his left and withdrew a snifter. “Drink?”
    â€œPlease.”
    He liked that about her. Olivia liked to imbibe now and again even before she turned vampire and discovered she could drink more than the average human before feeling the effects. They met at a party. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand—her third if he remembered correctly. God, they’d had fun that night. They talked and laughed until three, and then she invited him to go home with her. He could have been a gentleman and refused, but he knew it must have taken courage for her to ask, and he knew how long she