Blood Fury: Black Dagger Legacy

by J. R. Ward

  “No, you’re not sorry,” she bitched.

  “You’re right, I don’t give a shit that you’re pissed off at me. What I care about is your heart. Now, I’ll spare you the be-a-good-little-girl speech, because I don’t want to get castrated—but do me a favor and don’t screw up all my nice knit-one-purl-two and stay where you are, ’kay.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “You passed out going to the bathroom.”

  “I got dizzy, that was all.”

  “I found you on the floor, in a heap.”

  “I had my IV still in.”

  “But not your catheter, which you had taken out yourself.” He put his palm up to stop her from arguing. “Tell you what, I’ll award you the Patient of the Night trophy for all your efforts. Congratulations, your prize is a jelly donut and a whole lot of going-absolutely-nowhere.”

  Novo grunted and tried to link her arms over her chest—when that caused an arrhythmia that made some alarm go off, she had to let them sulk back down to either side of her body.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you will be fine.” Dr. Manello went around and reset whatever monitor had started talking. “In another night or two. Provided you stay put.”

  “FYI, I’m giving this establishment a really crappy Yelp review.”

  “I would be honored.” The doctor put his hand on his heart and bowed. “Thank you—oh, and your mother called.”

  Novo went to sit up and hissed before collapsing back. “My mother?”

  “Yeah, she’d been trying to reach you? She was afraid you were dead. Needless to say, I told her you were breathing. Didn’t mention that I knew that because of an oxygen sensor clipped to your finger, but at least I was confident that I was giving her accurate information.”

  Novo tried to look like she didn’t care. But that fucking alarm, the one connected to her fucking heart, started going off again.

  “What did she say? I mean, what did you tell her?” She shut her lids. “Not that I got hurt, right?”

  “I’m not authorized to report on the condition of my patients.” He leaned over to whatever was beep-beep-beep’ing and silenced things again. “I informed her you were in class for the rest of the night. But you may want to call her when you feel up to it.”

  How’s never, on that one? “Can you give me a doctor’s note that says I don’t have to.”

  “Will you promise to stay in bed?”

  “Sure, but I’m pretty certain that’s something I’ll break.”

  “Fair enough. Quick question. If you don’t want to hop on the horn with your family’s version of Carol Brady, I’m not sure her getting a note from your surgeon is going to de-escalate whatever is going on, am I right?”

  “Look, Doc, if you’re going to continue to be logical and reasonable, I’m going to have to ask you to reassign my case to a crazy person.”

  “Right, ’cuz why be difficult when you can be perfectly unreasonable.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dr. Manello smiled and then headed for the door. Before he opened the way out, he hesitated. “Is everything okay in your family?” He held up his palm again. “You don’t have to go into specifics if you don’t want to. It’s just…she was worked up, and it’s very clear you’re avoiding her.”

  “My mother is always worked up about something—and usually it’s my sister. Who’s getting mated. As her bridesmaid—oh, sorry, I guess I’m the honor maid, or something?—I’m supposed to be planning things, not doing my job to protect the species. Yeah, ’cuz really, picking out dresses and organizing a goddamn bachelorette night out is more important than fighting lessers.”

  “I didn’t know vampires did that kind of shit. Bridal showers and stuff.”

  “We don’t. My sister needs all the attention in the world, however, so one species’ traditions are not enough for her. She needs two.”

  “What a charmer.” Her surgeon smiled even more, his handsome face crinkling at the eyes and around his mouth. “And may I just say, in a totally non-creepy way, that you are going to look fantastic in bows and ribbons. Especially if they are the color of bubble gum.”

  Novo closed her eyes with a groan. “Can you just knock me out?”

  “Nah, I’m afraid if I hit you in the face, the rest of your classmates will beat my ass.”

  “I was talking drugs.”

  “Ah, where’s the fun in that.” The man got serious. “You rest up. If you’re stable by the time the night’s over, I’ll consider letting you go home, ’kay?” As Novo flipped her lids back open, he glared at her. “But you have to feed. I don’t care who from, and that is mandatory.”

  After the doctor left, Novo thought about the bride-ette night, or whatever you call it, and decided she should take all those females to The Keys.

  Yup, surprise! It’s a sex club! Now get your nipple clips on there, young ladies, and go find yourself a glory hole.

  As she pictured her sister trying to make it through just the wait line, she had to laugh—and the sharp-shooter that came in response made her worry that she had sprung herself a leak.

  No alarms, though. Just the regular beeping that seemed to suggest some kind of circulation was happening on a regular basis—

  All at once, she was back in that empty cold house, on the bathroom floor, bleeding from between her legs. Pain, different than now, was deep in her belly, twisting her like a rag until she thought she would snap in two.

  No medical help then. No nice doctor with a sharp wit and kind eyes, no medical equipment, no drugs. No clear understanding of what was happening to her until something had come out of her.

  Her young. Not alive, although perfectly formed.

  There had been so much blood. She had been sure she was going to die.

  Fate had had other plans for her. In fact, she had lived. It turned out that just because you wanted to gain entrance unto the Fade didn’t mean you were granted what you prayed for. No, she had survived, but she had never been whole again.

  Wait…that was wrong. She hadn’t been whole even before the miscarriage had happened, and afterward? How could she not blame herself for the loss. Her body had failed her young, had let that innocent being down—

  No, not her body. Her mind, her character. She had been so distraught over Oskar leaving her for Sophy that her emotional meltdown had caused the miscarriage: She had not been strong enough for her young, hard enough, tough enough. She had failed.

  “Stop it,” she snapped. “Just…fucking stop.”

  To get her mind off the past, she focused on getting herself the hell out of the clinic. Feeding, she thought. She needed to get the feeding thing arranged.

  With a grunt—that suggested the doc had a point about the whole not-yet thing—she reached out to the rolling table closest to her. Batting away the can of ginger ale, the rose-colored plastic bedpan, the Kleenex box, and the remote to the TV she had yet to turn on, she finally grabbed her phone.

  Her ringer had been off when she’d been in the field, and what a good choice someone had made in not turning that back on. As she triggered the screen, there was a raft of texts. A lot were from her fellow trainees…there was one from John Matthew…and a couple from the Brothers. Also one from Rhage looking to see when she would be well enough to give a statement about what had happened in the alley.

  And then about…oh, seven hundred and fifty from her sister.

  As well as some voicemails from the female. And their mahmen.

  Novo closed her eyes as she felt like screaming. Then she refocused. Feeding. She needed to feed.

  And on that subject, now would be a great time to make good choices, she told herself. She needed to hit up Craeg, Axe, or Boone and ask one of them if they could help her out.

  Yup. She was just going to text one of those guys, and she knew they would come as soon as they could arrange transportation. And then she would be one more step closer to having this all behind her—and a step further away from complications she could
do without.

  Read: Peyton and his blue-blooded vintage.

  Yup, she was going to hit up Craeg…

  Or Axe…

  Or…Boone.

  They were going to do just fine, she told herself as she signed into her phone. Just fine and dandy.

  After Ruhn spoke up, he fell silent and really wished that he hadn’t said anything. Actually, wait, what he would have preferred was not to have come here at all. Because if the latter had been true, then the former never would have been a problem.

  I’ve always known you didn’t approve of me.

  Had he really said that? “Never mind, it is hardly relevant—”

  “What gave you the idea I disapproved of you?”

  “I should not have brought this up.”

  “No, I’m glad you did.” Saxton shook his head. “We need to talk this out. I’m trying to see how I could ever have given you that impression.”

  For a moment, Ruhn got too busy falling into those gray eyes, those big, beautiful pearl-gray eyes. He loved the way they looked up at him, the thick lashes framing that stare, the brows arching perfectly, the head tilted in polite inquiry…

  The mouth ever so slightly parted as if the male were still surprised.

  “Whyever would you think that?” Saxton prompted.

  “I cannot read.”

  “And that matters how? Reading is a measure of something that can be taught, not intelligence, and certainly not worthiness. Ruhn, you gave up Bitty to parents who loved her for her own good. You let your bloodline go for her benefit and others. How could I not appreciate a male who could make such a selfless, loving act?”

  “I couldn’t sign the documents.”

  “You gave your mark…beautifully.” Saxton’s voice grew forceful. “Worry not ever, Ruhn, over my opinion. I could not respect you more. In fact, I have always been”—those eyes shifted away—“struck by you.”

  An unfamiliar blooming sensation warmed Ruhn’s chest, relieving the pain there—and at the same time, the walls of the elegant penthouse seemed to shrink into them both, drawing them closer together even though neither of them moved.

  Ruhn’s heart began to beat harder, and he coughed a little.

  “Have I made you feel uncomfortable?” Saxton linked his arms. “I apologize. I assure you, I offer this only in the spirit of friendship.”

  “Of course.”

  “Regardless of my orientation.”

  “Orientation?”

  “I am gay.” As Ruhn recoiled, Saxton’s face tightened and his voice lowered. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  More like a solution, Ruhn thought—before he caught himself.

  Coughing again, he said, “No. No, it will not.”

  “Are you certain about that?”

  When Ruhn didn’t reply, Saxton looked away. “Well. In any event, thank you for updating me about Miniahna and I’ll take it from here. Your services are no longer required—”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You heard me—”

  “Wait, are you firing me?”

  “Just so you and I are clear, I have been beaten for being what I am.” Saxton went over and opened the sliding door. “I have been disowned by my bloodline because my sire regards me as an embarrassment and a disgrace now that my mahmen is gone. So I can assure you, I’ve survived far worse alienation than your disapproval, and I will not apologize for something about myself that I am not ashamed of—simply because it makes you or anyone else uncomfortable.”

  Ruhn took a deep breath.

  After what felt like an hour, he walked over to the open door and the male standing stiffly and with dignity by the way out. As freezing air swirled into the penthouse, it ruffled through Ruhn’s hair and he wondered what it would be like to have Saxton’s fingers do that.

  “Forgive me,” Ruhn said quietly. “I mean no offense. I honestly do not. I have…trouble expressing myself, especially around people like you.”

  “Gays. You can say the word, you know. And it’s not like you can catch homosexuality like a cold.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you.” Saxton tugged at his cuffs, and as he did, there was a flash of red rubies. “I’m not sure that is true, and incidentally, a sexual preference should not be threatening. I’m not going to jump you or anything. People are as principled or unprincipled as they are. Whom I choose to sleep with does not affect my ability to recognize boundaries any more than a heterosexual male would not aggress on every female he comes across.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “So you believe I am morally wrong. Ah, right. It’s that, then.”

  “No—”

  Saxton put his hand out. “Actually, I’m disinclined to argue with you. Your reasons are your own. It’s cold and I would like to shut this door. Thank you.”

  Later, Ruhn would wonder where the courage came from. Where the honesty did. The answer to that, when it occurred to him, was both simple and profound: Love had wings that demanded flight.

  “I am attracted to you and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Saxton’s eyes grew wide, his shock altering everything about him.

  “I mean no offense.” Ruhn bowed low. “I do not expect you to be complimented by that, nor do you have to worry I will embarrass you. I just did not expect to find a male attractive, and…” He looked away. “The only reason I tell you this is because I cannot abide you thinking that I would shame you or anybody else in that manner. So I’m sorry.”

  There was a tense moment of silence.

  And then Saxton reached out…and slowly slid the door back into place.

  —

  The downstairs male guest bathroom in Peyton’s family’s mansion was a small but dramatic space tucked in under the grand formal stairs. The floors, walls, and ceiling of the asymmetrical, slant-roof’d room were tiled with slabs of golden agate, and the fixtures and sink were gold. Brass sconces on either side of a gold-leafed mirror threw orangey illumination that had always reminded him of the end of a lit cigar, and the needlepoint rug underfoot had the family’s crest woven into it.

  There was no bladder imperative to have come here. He’d just needed a break from all the shoot-me-now polite conversation in the dining room, and to waste some time, he took out his phone to see if someone, anyone, had texted or emailed him.

  It was the first time he had ever prayed for spam. He didn’t give a shit whether it was Viagra from overseas, or a webcam scam telling him to text SUCKME to some number…or the president of Nigeria needing to hide money: He was in. Anything but going back out to that table, where his father and Salone were trying to one-up each other on who they knew, the mahmen was getting drunk and leering across the table at him, and that Emily Dickinson waif was pushing her food around without eating anything.

  “I’ve quit better jobs than this,” he muttered as he checked the phone’s screen.

  On that Annie Potts note, maybe he should just put the OG Ghostbusters on and watch from under his napkin—

  Four texts. Three of which were from the club set. And one that made his heart pound like he’d been hooked up to a car battery.

  As he went to type in a response to that last one, he stopped halfway through—and called instead.

  One ring. Two rings…

  Three.

  Shit, it was going to go to voicemail. Did he hang up or—

  “So is this a yes?” Novo said in a husky voice.

  Instant erection. The kind of thing that tested the tensile strength of his tux’s zipper and suggested there was no way he was leaving the loo without giving himself a hand job.

  “Yes,” he answered. “It is.”

  “When can you come here?”

  Now! Fucking right now! his cock said. You get that on that bus and you go to her right now!

  Listen, little Pey-pey, you need to chill—

  “Excuse me?”

  Peyton shut his eyes and leaned into the agate countertop. “Ah,
yeah, sorry—”

  “Little Pey-pey? I didn’t know you had a younger brother.”

  It was more like living with a frat boy who never lifted a finger until he had a bright idea that could burn the house down.

  “It’s…nothing.” Actually it was more like eight inches. Hard. “And I’ve got a…I’m stuck in a family thing, but it’s just a meal. As soon as it’s done, I’m coming in.”

  “How long? They said I had to feed before I can leave.”

  “Not long. An hour. The cheese and fruit course is about to be served, and after that, there will be sorbet.” Thank God it wasn’t Last Meal or there’d be another two hours ahead of them. “I’ll arrange for transport and tell my father I have to go.”

  “So dependable you are.”

  “When properly motivated.”

  “And altruistic, too. Or do you still feel like you owe me?”

  Peyton looked at himself in that mirror over the gold sink. His eyes were rapt and hungry, a high color of arousal on his cheeks. In the golden glow, he was all tiger in a gilded cage.

  “You don’t want me to answer that,” he heard himself say in a guttural voice.

  “Don’t do me any favors.”

  “Fine. I want you to take from me. I want your mouth on me anywhere I can get it. And I know better than to think you’ll let me fuck you, but just so we’re clear, the entire time, I’ll be back between your legs in my mind. That honest enough for you? Still want me to come…to you?”

  He deliberately double-entendre’d that last one because he was a prick. And he wanted her so badly he was losing his frickin’ mind.

  When Novo didn’t say anything, he let his head drop and decided to kick his own ass. Way to be supportive—

  “Yes,” she said roughly. “I still want you to come.”

  Holy thundering blood pressure, Batman.

  “This time…” He bared his descending fangs, his upper lip twitching. “I want your fangs in me, I want the pain and the rush. And I want you at my throat.”

  “Anything else?”