by Дж. Р. Уорд
There was a loud scraping noise as five chairs slid backward. The men rose as a unit. And started coming for her.
She looked to the faces of the two she knew, but their grave expressions weren’t encouraging.
And then the knives came out.
With a metallic whoosh, five black daggers were unsheathed.
She backed up frantically, hands in front of herself. She slammed into a wall and was about to scream for Wrath when the men dropped down on bended knees in a circle around her. In a single movement, as if they’d been choreographed, they buried the daggers into the floor at her feet and bowed their heads. The great whoomp of sound as steel met wood seemed both a pledge and a battle cry.
The handles of the knives vibrated.
The rap music continued to pound.
They seemed to be waiting for some kind of response from her.
“Umm. Thank you,” she said.
The men’s heads lifted. Etched into the harsh planes of their faces was total reverence. Even the scarred one had a respectful expression.
And then Wrath came in with a squeeze bottle of Hershey’s syrup.
“Bacon’s on the way.” He smiled. “Hey, they like you.”
“And thank God for that,” she murmured, looking down at the daggers.
—DARK LOVER, p. 284–285
The Brothers are greeting their new queen here, although Beth is unaware of the role she’ll play in the future, so she actually had two transitions that night: the first her becoming a vampire, and the second this welcome into Wrath and the Brotherhood’s private world as his leelan, his “dearest one.”
One of the most erotic scenes in the book? Aside from the first time they hook up, I think it’s when they’re having their date at Darius’s. The evening starts off rough (thanks to, among other things, Wrath getting into an argument with Tohr, whereupon Tohr feeds him the classic line, “Nice. Fucking. Suit”). However, the couple’s private time ends with…well, Wrath talking about how much he loves peaches. The mood goes from dark and tense to sensual with this:
Beth tilted forward in her chair, opened her mouth, and put her lips around the strawberry, taking it whole. Wrath’s nostrils flared as he watched her bite down. When some of the sweet juice escaped and dropped onto her chin, he hissed.
“I want to lick that off,” he muttered under his breath. He reached forward and took hold of her jaw. Lifted his napkin.
She put her hand on his. “Use your mouth.”
A low sound, from deep inside his chest, cut through the room.
Wrath leaned toward her, tilting his head. She caught a flash of his fangs as his lips opened and his tongue came out. He stroked the juice from her skin and then pulled away.
He stared at her. She looked back at him. The candles flickered.
“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.
—DARK LOVER, p. 201
Most touching scene? For me, it has to be the one at Havers’s clinic at the end. Wrath is still pretty wiped after having been shot in the stomach, and he’s just come out of a coma. Beth is trying to communicate with him because he’s agitated and upset, but he’s having trouble talking. She’s asked him if he needs her to get the doctor or food or drink or blood, and none of that is what he’s looking for:
His eyes fixated on their linked hands and came back to her face. Then his gaze locked on their hands and returned again.
“Me?” she whispered. “You need me?”
He squeezed and wouldn’t stop.
“Oh, Wrath…You have me. We’re together, love.”
Tears poured out of him in a mad rush, his chest quaking from the sobs, his breathing jagged and raw.
She took his face in her hands, trying to soothe him. “It’s all right.
I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you. I promise you. Oh, love…”
Eventually he relaxed a little. The tears slowed.
A croak came out of his mouth.
“What?” She leaned down.
“Wanted to…save you.”
“You did. Wrath, you did save me.”
His lips trembled. “Love. You.”
She kissed him gently on the mouth. “I love you, too.”
“You. Go. Sleep. Now.”
And then he closed his eyes from exhaustion.
Her vision went blurry as she put her hand over her mouth and started to smile. Her beautiful warrior was back. And trying to order her around from his hospital bed.
—DARK LOVER, p. 373
I think that pretty much says it all about them. So I’ll leave it at that.
Dark Lover was the launching pad for all the Brothers, not just for Wrath and Beth. I was very clear, even way back then, where the original seven in the Brotherhood were headed and who else was going to join the ranks. And as with all the books, the plotlines of things that wouldn’t see the light for years were started. This wasn’t because I was brilliant—but a case of scenes landing in my head that would come into play much later.
As I said, Wrath’s story is the book I’m proudest of—it was a totally fresh start that was, for the first time, truly authentic to what’s in my head. It would shock me if I ever do something like it again and pull it off to the extent I did. Wrath was a complete about-face of subject matter, tone, and voice coupled with an incredible stretch for me in terms of craft—written at a time when I was basically out of a job.
I’m really grateful Wrath came in for a landing and brought the Brothers along with him. His book is dedicated to him—with good reason.
Rhage, Son of Tohrture
a. k.a. Hal E. Wood
He wanted to give her another word to say, something like luscious or whisper or strawberry.
Hell, antidisestablishmentarianism would do it.
—LOVER ETERNAL, p. 63
Age: 165
Joined Brotherhood: 1898
Height: 6′8″
Weight: 280 lbs.
Hair color: Blond
Eye color: Neon blue-green
Identifying physical marks: Multicolored tattoo of clawed dragon coveting entire back; Brotherhood scar on left pectoral; name MARY MADONNA carved in skin across upper back and shoulders in Old English letters.
Note: Possesses inner dragon that comes out when he is stressed due to punishment issued by Scribe Virgin (which he has retained in order to save Mary). He is now able to exert some control over his alter ego, which has been tamed by his shellan.
Weapon of choice: His beast (martial arts throwing stars)
Description:
…As the guy walked along, there was something about him that wasn’t WASPy handsome in spite of hit amazing looks. Something…animalistic. He just didn’t carry himself as other people did.
Actually, he moved like a predator, thick shoulders rolling with his gait, head turning, scanning. She had the discomforting sense that if he wanted to, he could wipe out everyone in the place with his bare hands.
—LOVER ETERNAL, pp. 81—42
Mated to: Mary Madonna Luce
Personal Qs (answered by Rhage):
Last movie watched: La Vie en Rose (Mary’s fault—she maintained it was necessity to balance out my Bill Murray festival.)
List book read: The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle (to Nalla)
Favorite TV show: Flavor of Love, Rock of Line, or pretty much anything on the Food Channel—P.S. I want New York to come hack and do another season
Last TV show watched: Talk Soup
Last game played: You don’t want to know
Greatest fear: Loss of Mary
Greatest love: Mary
Favorite quote: Mangia bene!
Boxers or briefs: Anything that Mary likes taking off me!
Watch: Gold Rolex Presidential
Car: Deep Purple GTO
What time is it while you’re filling this out: 6 p.m.
Where are you? In my bed, naked.
What are you wearing? See above.
&n
bsp; What’s in your closet? Black stuff, lighting leathers, whites to see the Scribe Virgin. And one lone Hawaiian shirt Mary is trying to get me to wear. Okay, its not a Hawaiian shirt, but it’s, like, blue, and honestly, color makes me scratch when it comes to clothes. She is, however, willing to bribe me to get me to wear it—which is always fun!
What was the last thing you ate? Buttermilk pancakes (5) with butter and maple syrup; pot of coffee; six sausages; two servings of hash browns; a box of strawberries; a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese; pink grapefruit halved (ate both halves); and three cherry Danishes. And I’m feeling a bit peckish.
Describe your last dream? Let’s just say I rolled over and acted it out about a half hour ago
Coke or Pepsi? Coke
Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe? Marilyn Monroe, I guess. But it’s totally moot, and not because they’ve both passed. Mary’s it for me.
Kirk or Picard? Kirk. He was the lothario of space, man, and props for that!
Football or baseball? Football, because it’s a contact sport!
Sexiest part of a female? Depend on my mood…I guess I’m an omnivore. Which means I like to nibble—on anything and everything.
What do you like most about Mary? The sound of her voice. The way she can roll over beside me in bed and talk to me in the darkness of the day and I know that I’m safe.
First words spoken to her were: “Who are you?”
Her response was: “My name.. - my name is Mary. I’m here with a friend.”
Last gift given to her: I brought a single white rose to her last night. She was thrilled. See, she’s not a big, showy kind of female, my Mary Madonna. Like…okay, I bought her an engagement ring before our mating ceremony, because she’s a human and that’s how they do. It’s a diamond, ’cause, you know, only the best for my Mary. The thing’s seven carats. D. Flawless. Fritz got it for me in Manhattan from the Diamond District. When I gave it to her, Mary was very polite and grateful, but it’s in the drawer. What’s on her finger? A single gold band. V made one for both of us, because, like I said, Mary’s human and she wanted us to have wedding bands to wear after our mating ceremony. Funny. I didn’t understand the whole wedding ring thing until I got one. I mean, for us, for male vampires, we carve skin to show that we’re mated. But the great thing about a ring is that folks can see it even when you’re fully clothed. I keep mine on always—unless I’m out fighting.
Most romantic thing you’ve ever done for her: She seemed to really like the rose. I tell you, the way she smiled at me made me feel like I was ten feet tall.
Most romantic thing she’s ever done for you: The way she thanked me for the rose.
Anything you’d change about her? Nothing except for her taste in movies! GOD. I mean, honestly, that female will watch anything with foreign subtitles. And I try to get into the kind of ones she likes. I do…but it’s a snuggle. I understand what she means, though. After watching something she likes, I have to clear my palate with a little dose of Bruce Willis or maybe an encore screening of Superbad.
Best friend (excluding shellan): Butch/V
Last time you cried: This afternoon. I thought La Vie en Rose would never end.
Last time you laughed: While I was eating. Butch was the one who made the pancakes, and you should have seen Fritz’s expression when he saw what kind of shape the kitchen was in afterward. Butch is tight behind the stove, although not as good as V, but, man, my boy don’t know the meaning of clean-as-you-go. The place wasn’t just messy, it was like…defiled or some shit. We helped take care of the mess, me, V and Butch—along with a bunch of doggen, who, after Fritz got over his shock. had a great time tidying up. Doggen love to clean like I love to cat.
J.R.’s Interview with Rhage
The afternoon following my interview with Wrath in that stream, I left Rehvenge’s safe house around five. I was glad I’d spent the night. Wrath and Beth and Phury and Cormia, along with the Chosen, were a great group to hang out with, and after hours of chatting I’d slept like a rock—proving that as usual the king was right: My other interviews with the Brothers were going to be better because I wasn’t half-dead from travel.
The car ride down through the Adirondacks to Caldwell was lovely. The Northway is one of my favorite highways, cutting as it does through the mountains I spent my summers in while growing up. With the leaves just past their autumnal peak, the jagged ridges on either side of the two lanes I drove were still awash in red and gold and green, the colors glowing like jewels as the sun set.
While I went along in my rental car, I thought how different the Brothers were compared to three autumns ago when their stories all started. I mean…so many losses and gains. So many ups and downs. I remembered that first meeting in Dark Lover, when they were in Darius’s living room right after his death…and then pictured them coming out of the woods to reclaim Phury as their own at the end of Lover Enshrined. Lot of changes, both good and bad.
I meet Fritz in the parking lot of a Marriott in Albany. He’s there with the Mercedes, and after locking up my rented Ford Escape, I get into the S550’s backseat and the butler drives south for at least an hour. He’s very chatty, and I love the sound of his voice: slightly accented, like Marissa’s, and with the chirpy cadence of a Mozart concerto.
I know we’re getting close when he puts up the divider and we talk through the car’s voice-activated speaker system.
When we eventually pull up in front of the mansion, night is starting to fall, and I’m glad for the courtyard’s lighting so I can see everything as he puts down the divider. He parks between Beth’s Audi and Z’s iron gray 911 Carrera 4S. On the other side of the Porsche there’s a black Hummer I don’t recognize with no chrome on it whatsoever—even the hubs are black. Without Fritz telling me, I know it has to be Qhuinn’s. It is a total spank ride, and no doubt useful for the fighting, but man, what a damn shame the thing leaves a carbon footprint like a T. rex.
Fritz confirms my unspoken conclusion about who owns it, and as I pass by, I see that the SUV has a dent in its brand-new hood…a dent the size of a body. A quick sniff and I smell something sweet as baby powder. This reminds me that the “boys” are now soldiers, and I get a little nostalgic for no good reason.
Fritz lets me into the mansion, takes my coat, and reports on everyone’s whereabouts—or at least where they were when he left to pick me up: Mary is over at the Pit with V and Marissa, working on a database for Safe Place. Butch, Qhuinn, and Blay are at the pistol range in the training center. John is in Tohr’s room sitting with the Brother. Rhage is upstairs, lying flat on his back next to a twelve-pack of Alka-Seltzer.
Ah, the beast.
The butler asks who I want to see first, and I ask whether he thinks Rhage would be up for talking. Fritz nods and informs me that Hollywood’s been looking forward to the distraction—so we head upstairs.
When I get to Rhage’s door, Fritz leaves and I do my own knocking.
Rhage: (muffled) Yeah?
J.R.: Its me.
Rhage: Oh, thank God. Come in.
I open the door and the bedroom is so dark, the stretch of light that slices in from the hall is consumed by a hungry blackness. Before I step forward, though, candles flare on the bureau and a table next to the bed.
Rhage: Can’t have you tripping over things.
J.R.: Thank you…
Man, Rhage doesn’t look good. He is indeed flat on his back, and there’s a lot of Alka-Seltzer next to him. He’s naked, but there’s a sheet pulled up to his waist, and as I look at him I’m reminded that he’s the biggest of the Brothers in terms of heft. He’s positively huge, even on a bed that seems big as an Olympic pool. But he is not well. His lids are down over his Bahama blue eyes, his mouth is slightly open, his belly distended as if he’s swallowed a weather balloon.
J.R.: So die beast came out, huh.
Rhage: Yeah…last night right before dawn. (He groans as he tries to turn over.)
J.R.: Are you sure you want to Jo this
right now?
Rhage: Yup. I’m dying for distraction, and I can’t watch TV. Hey, could you get me some more Alka-Seltzer? Mary hit me with six before she left about half an hour ago. but they don’t seem to last long.
J.R.: Absolutely.
I’m relieved to do something to help him, and I head over to where four boxes of the stuff are lined up next to a pitcher of water and a glass. I fill the glass, crack open three foil packets, and drop the chalky disks in.
J.R.: (watching the plop-plop, fizz-fizz go to work) Maybe you should take something stronger?
Rhage: Doc Jane tried me out on some Prilosec. Didn’t help as much.
When I turn to him, he lifts his head and I put the glass to his lips. As he drinks slowly, I feel guilty about noticing how gorgeous he is. He truly is the most beautiful male anything I’ve ever seen…you almost want to touch his face to make sure it’s real and not some artist’s rendering of the absolute standard of masculine splendor. He has Mount Everest cheekbones and a jaw that’s straight as an I beam and lips that are full and soft. His hair is blond with curls that go this way and that way on the pillow, and he smells amazing.
As I take the empty glass away from his mouth, Rhage opens his eyes. And I am reminded that his brilliant teal stare is even more of a knockout than his bone structure.
Rhage: (laughs quietly) You are blushing.
J.R.: No, I’m not.
Rhage: (singing along to the tune of na-na-na-na-na-naaaaa) You are blushing. You are blushing.
J.R.: How is it possible I want to strike you while you’re down?
Rhage: (grins) Aw, you say the sweetest things.
J.R.: (laughing because you just have to, he’s that endearing) Wait, I thought your vision was off afterward?
Rhage: It is, but your cheeks are THAT red. But really, enough about you, lets talk about me. (bats his mile-long lashes) Come on, what do you want to know? What burning questions do I get to answer?