Sins of the Undead Patriot by a.c. Mason Page B

which is the red for the lady, and the blue for Mr. Louchian. I’ll give you a few moments to go over the selections and come back for your drinks.” He turned and moved to a table in the lower main dining area.
    Most other tables had multiple undead with a human. Lust twinkled in the humans’ half-mast eyes. What did they know that she didn’t about undead?
    “Is everything all right?” Vaihan tilted his head to see what she’d been staring at.
    Heat burned Leera’s cheeks as she opened the menu. “Yes. Why do you ask?” Would he press the matter or back off?
    “A certain curiosity piqued in those beautiful dark eyes. Is there anything I may be of assistance in clearing up?” His dimple peeked, softening his demeanor.
    Sooner or later he’d find out how little she knew of his kind. “I’ve never known anyone who’s dated an undead, and yet, this place is filled with mixed couples.”
    “Not all couples. Some are trios and other quartets.”
    Quartets? Menages were complicated enough to understand. Wouldn’t she be stuffed from rim to brim? A table at the other end of the room had three undead males and a woman whose gaze sparkled with joy. The undead next to her had his hand pressed between her thighs. For the first time since Jean’s death, Leera wondered if she’d ever feel a connection beyond physical when being touched.
    “Haven’t you heard, once you go undead, you never go back to the living?” A hint of mischief warmed his intense eyes, softening him.
    She bit her bottom lip. A similar phrasing was told to her some years ago, but not in relation to undead.
    “An undead’s primary focus in bed is his partner’s or partners’ pleasure–meaning orgasm.” He scanned his menu.
    Should she interject a response or leave his mind to ponder what she thought of his comment. Heh. More fun to have him reflecting on it.
    A wide selection of wines, spirits and ales covered the first page. Maybe drinking wasn’t a good idea. “You work for the White House, don’t you?”
    “No, the president. My office is in the west wing on the second floor, at the back.”
    “Of course, Special Advisor to the President...what does that mean exactly?”
    “It varies. At times, she comes to me with an idea. I give her the undead perspective. Sometimes she tells me to get this or that done. Often, I need to smooth over decisions she’s made so that the undead don’t lose faith in her.” His pupils widened, filling his gaze with vulnerability. “I believe in the democracy of this great nation. My goal is to ensure that the rights and liberties are for all citizens, not just the living. As Mandela says, There is no such thing as part freedom .”
    And was she going to endanger his purpose, everything he stood for? What choice did she have? If she didn’t, her brother would be shipped off to Guantanamo Bay. Peter had always looked out for her. She could do no different now, for his safety.
    Maybe her comfort level with Vaihan was because she doubted he could hurt her. She knew he was only seeing her to further his own case, so he wouldn’t let his emotions run amok. People like Vaihan didn’t obtain what they wanted without having a ruthless side. He, too, could believe the ends justified the means.
    Vaihan overlapped his hand on hers as he put down the menu. Butterflies traveled up her arm, sending a shiver through her. His touch felt right and thrilling all in the same moment.
    What was she in the mood for? Spicy mixed with sweet. The ThaiMex salad was just the combo, with a shrimp cocktail to start.
    “Have you decided?” Aaron stood beside their table, pencil and pad in hand.
    “I have.” She smiled. “And how about you?” she asked Vaihan.
    “Yes,” he responded. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman, if I ordered before you. Please go ahead.”
    “Thank you.” Chivalry. She liked that quality in a male. “I’ll have a six ounce glass of vinho verde white. The shrimp cocktail, the ThaiMex fusion