Blood Fury: Black Dagger Legacy

by J. R. Ward

  On the other side, a tidy female vampire with a briefcase and hair that had been bowl-cut into an unfurled umbrella on top of her head was standing at attention.

  “Saxton, I’m so glad you called me, darling.”

  Kiss, kiss on both cheeks. Pat, pat on his forearm.

  “I was surprised, but so very pleased to hear from you,” she said as she came in. “I am glad that—oh, who’s this?”

  Saxton closed them all in. “This is my…this is Ruhn.”

  “Well.” She marched right up and put her hand out. “It’s a pleasure, Ruhn. Saxton has impeccable taste, and I can tell he’s exercised it to his benefit once again. I’m Carmichael.”

  Ruhn blinked and looked over in a panic, rather as if an exotic bird who was not house-trained had landed on his shoulder.

  “You mentioned you have a buyer for this place?” Saxton smoothed over.

  The distraction worked perfectly. Carmichael was instantly refocused.

  “I told you months ago that I did. When you bought that penthouse without me. Tsk, tsk. That was rather rude of you, but you are forgiven if you give me this listing.”

  “You’re selling?” Ruhn asked softly.

  “Yes.” Saxton locked eyes with the male. “I find that I’m ready to let it go.”

  “Well.” Carmichael all but tap-danced it out. “This is splendid news. I have a listing form for you to sign right here.”

  With admirable efficiency, she somehow managed to whip out a sheet and a pen from the briefcase without having to put the thing down: balance on a knee, pop the locks, out with the paper and a Bic.

  “Here. Let’s get this done and I’ll bring them through in an hour.”

  With a pounding heart, Saxton took the listing form and the cheap pen.

  “While you sign that, I just need to confirm some dimensions.” For that, she put the briefcase down, got out a tape measure and her iPhone, and headed off. “You’re a lawyer. You know where to put your John Hancock.”

  As her caffeinated footfalls clipped down in the direction of the kitchen, Saxton glanced at Ruhn.

  The male was standing close by, his hands loosely linked, his eyes calm, but worried. “You don’t look like you’re comfortable doing this.”

  And that was when it happened. A feeling of total peace came over him, as unexpected as a blessing that had been prayed for by an agnostic. And it was grounded in the pale brown of Ruhn’s eyes.

  “I love you,” Saxton said abruptly.

  That beautiful stare flared so wide, the whites around those pupils flashed like moonlight.

  Saxton waved the paper around. “This house, this…shrine? I was keeping it as a testament to something I thought I’d never find again. And I realize, I don’t need to keep this anymore. I’m letting it go just as I’ve let Blay go, and that’s all because of you.” He held up his free hand. “Which is not to say you have to reciprocate. I brought you here because I just—”

  Ruhn silenced the rush of words: “I love you, too.”

  Saxton started to smile.

  And he didn’t stop. Even as he used Ruhn’s broad back to put his signature on the line.

  In order to move forward, you had to let the past go—and sometimes that meant mental shifts that happened on the inside…whereas with others, it was about things in the physical world.

  Often, the two were interrelated.

  With Ruhn in his life, he was now infinitely more interested in the future than he was the past.

  Which was as it should be, he thought as he put the cap back on the Bic. Life, after all, was so much more than nostalgia and regrets.

  Thank God.

  —

  Standing in the training center’s gym, Novo pointed at Peyton. “Him. I want him.”

  The Brother Rhage clapped his hands together. “Fair enough. So it’ll be the two of you—then Craeg and Boone together—and Paradise will fight Payne. I’ll take Axe. Let’s square off, people.”

  Novo mostly kept her grin to herself as she assumed her attack stance, her legs bent, her hands up, her shoulders tensing as she got ready to punch. Peyton, on the other hand, didn’t bother being discreet. He was smiling like a motherfucker as he fell into the same pose.

  “On my count of three,” Rhage barked out. “One…two…three.”

  As the whistle blew, Novo went down to the mats, swung both of her legs in a fat circle, and caught Peyton right at the ankles. The male went over like a tree in the forest, all that weight going into a free fall that left him bouncing on his face. No time, no time—after that hard landing, she gave him not even a second to gather his wits.

  She jumped on his back, caught him by the throat in the crook of her arm, and then rolled him, split her legs around his ass, and clamped down with all her strength. Peyton grunted and strained, thrashing around as he tried to pivot over on top of her or get free of her hold on his airway. Squeezing, squeezing…she started to sweat, the burn in her arms, shoulders, and thighs making it feel as if her bones were on fire.

  Every time he shifted one way, she threw a leg out. And then when he went the other way, she switched to her opposite side. Then she grabbed on to her own wrist and pulled, pulled…

  Peyton started to slow.

  Slower.

  Sloppier.

  And then he put out his arm and slapped his palm once…twice…

  On the third clap, she released everything and flopped onto her own back. She was breathing so hard she saw stars, her lungs like a pair of twin volcanoes in her chest—

  She started to giggle. And she let the girly sound go because, fuck it, she had just made a male nearly twice her size tap the fuck out.

  Peyton rolled over and retched a couple of times, his head hanging loose, his arms bowed out.

  And then he, too, was on his back and laughing.

  As they looked at each other across the blue mats, they laughed even harder.

  It wasn’t until Novo sat up that she realized—oh…right. Everyone in the class had stopped what they were doing and was staring over at them.

  They had been spending the days together at his house ever since the night of the bridal shower—and the subversive part of her loved sneaking up the staff stairs and avoiding his father and the servants: She liked the idea of fucking Peyton under the roof of a male who would never, ever approve of a scrub like her.

  And there had been another bene, one that was perhaps expected. Courtesy of the bridal shower/bachelorette fiasco, she’d been kicked out of the wedding/mating party, her job title and duties revoked by her sister. Which was just fine. She was, however, still on the guest list.

  Guess she’d have to see how long that lasted. And also whether she decided to go at all.

  Lying next to Peyton during the days, she had begun to wonder why she had to attend an event like Sophy and Oskar’s mating at all. Sure, it was family, blah, blah, blah. But she wasn’t treated like family. She was an embarrassment to her parents for not being feminine enough and a cudgel for her sister to use to feel better about herself.

  Who needed that?

  In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered why blood relatives were given such importance in people’s lives. The genetic lottery, which no one volunteered to play, spit you out wherever it did, without regard to compatibility, and yet somehow you were supposed to imbue that accident of procreation with all kinds of emotional weight and significance—simply because your parents managed to help you stay alive until you could get the fuck out of their house.

  So actually, no, she didn’t think she was going.

  And suddenly, she didn’t really care that the entire trainee class and two professors were now on to the fact that she and Peyton were studying anatomy together.

  “High five,” she said to him as she put out her palm. “You’ll get me next time.”

  As he slapped her hand with his own, he shrugged. “And even if I don’t, I’ll always enjoy the ride.”

  The saucy wink
was totally him. And so was the way he jumped to his feet and helped her up.

  He was always a gentlemale. Even at his raunchy finest, he never quite shed that aristocratic upbringing—and somehow, it didn’t really bug her anymore.

  It was just another side to him.

  “Let’s call it a night,” Rhage announced. “Hit the showers. Bus is leaving in twenty. Tomorrow, we’re in the weight room for the first half. Then target shooting and a refresher on poisons for the second.”

  There was all kinds of chatter on the way to the locker rooms, the males paring off first before she and Paradise went into their facilities and headed for their individual shower cubicles. Peeling off sweaty clothes felt liberating, and then there was the release of her braid. Pure heaven.

  Hot water. YAY. Except…

  “Hey,” she said over the din of rushing water, “can I borrow some of your shampoo? I’m out and forgot to bring more.”

  As she leaned through her curtain, Paradise looked around her own. “I thought you always hated the smell of mine.”

  Novo shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Well, of course. Anything I have is yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  With efficiency, that shampoo bottle was passed between them, and Novo was back under the spray and lathering up.

  “Do you need this back?” she asked.

  “Nope. I’m conditioning? I’ll pass that underneath the curtain.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “So…” There was a pause next door. “Looks like you and Peyton are getting along.”

  As Novo arched into the spray and started the ten-minute-long process of getting her hair clean of suds, her gut tightened.

  “I saw him smiling at you back there,” Paradise prompted over the rushes of water.

  Was she jealous? Novo wondered. God, let’s not get weird here.

  “He’s a pretty chill guy,” she murmured.

  In the changing part of the stall, the conditioner slid into view, and Novo picked it up even though she wasn’t quite ready. She was still rinsing when the other female turned her water off, and by the time Novo emerged in her towel, Paradise was dressed and at the mirrors by the sink, a pink hair dryer going.

  Heading around the stand of lockers, Novo dried off and threw on a fresh set of leathers and a muscle shirt. She was just starting to comb out her hair in preparation for braiding when Paradise put her head around the corner.

  “Okay, I’m dying over here.”

  Novo popped her brows. “Really? ’Cuz your coloring looks fine and you don’t seem to be in respiratory distress.”

  “What’s going on with you two?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I could do that. I could.”

  As the other female just stood there, looking like a page out of Vogue with her patrician blond beauty and her elegant, expensive, I’m-rich-just-like-him clothes, Novo started to braid things up. And as she went down the lengths, she studied the other female. There wasn’t any anger or possessiveness going on. Just a wide-open, slightly surprised curiosity.

  Novo didn’t say anything until it was rubber-band time at the ends. “You really are just friends with him, aren’t you.”

  Paradise nodded. “Only ever just friends.” The female smiled. “He’s a good male, though. And I love the way he looks at you. It’s what I’ve always hoped he’d find.”

  “We’re not together or anything. I mean. You know. Not like in a relationship or anything.”

  Shit, she sounded defensive. Then again, she could never have imagined having this kind of conversation—for a whole crap load of reasons.

  Paradise smiled. “Sometimes relationships sneak up on you. Feelings and emotions can be like ninjas, all stealth and—”

  “Deadly. They’re deadly.”

  Paradise frowned. “No, I was going to say they come out of nowhere.”

  “Well…look, I don’t have much to say on this.”

  “I’m sorry.” Paradise’s perfectly arched eyebrows tilted in at the corners in worry. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s none of my business.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. We’re cool.”

  As the female seemed to be honestly relieved, Novo had a wholly unexpected urge to hug her—but she stomped that down real quick.

  Was she melting or something? What the hell?

  “I’ll see you on the bus,” Paradise said as she shouldered her duffel. “And I won’t say anything to anyone, not even Craeg.”

  “It’s okay.” And interestingly, that was the truth. “I don’t have anything to hide—because there’s nothing emotional going on.”

  After Paradise left the locker room, she took a moment to be astounded. Ordinarily, a conversation like that would have rattled her. Not anymore. Or…at least not tonight.

  Odd.

  Gathering her things and putting them in her own duffel, she checked her phone just out of habit—

  All that chill, no worries, Bobby McFerrin shit went right out the window as she saw who had texted her.

  Opening up the message, she had to read it twice. Then she put her phone away and scrambled-egg’d her way out into the corridor.

  She was halfway to the parking area when a voice in her ear drawled, “Can we have a rematch, only naked?”

  Novo jumped and spun around to Peyton. “Oh! Yeah, sorry, absolutely—where are you headed?”

  “Home. And I was hoping to see you.”

  “Yeah. I have to go start some laundry and stuff. I’ll meet you in like an hour?”

  “Hey.” He put his hand on her arm. “You okay?”

  “Totally.” She shrugged out from under his touch. “My shoulder’s aching and my place is out of control. I just need to get things sorted on the home front and then I’ll be over.”

  “Roger that.” His eyes became remote. “And listen, if you need some time off, I totally understand.”

  “Nah. I’m good.” As she shook her head, she was struck by a surprising impulse to give him a quick kiss.

  As if he sensed this, he smiled slow and on one side. “Take your time. I’ll always wait for you.”

  Together, they walked down the corridor and got on the bus, sitting across the aisle and facing one another, their legs stretched out so that their running shoes knocked. As the bus began to move, Boone started to listen to old-school U2 and she was able to track the Joshua Tree album by the rhythm of the hisses of his earbuds. Craeg and Paradise were in the back, in each other’s arms, not hooking up, but just relaxing. And Axe started to snore.

  When they got to the designated drop-off spot, everyone disembarked and Peyton lifted a hand to her before ghosting away.

  Novo loitered as everybody dematerialized. Then she scattered herself into the night air…in a direction away from where she lived.

  When she re-formed, it was in front of an Irish bar called Paddy’s in a section of town she had avoided for over two years.

  She took a deep breath as she pushed her way into the pub. It was mostly empty, but there was a male vampire sitting all the way in the back, in a booth.

  He stood up as soon as she came in. And after a moment, she walked down toward him.

  “Hello, Oskar,” she said as she stopped in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

  After Novo spoke, there was an awkward moment, and she made good use of it by sitting down and arranging her duffel bag—so that there was no chance of a hug or anything.

  Oskar cleared his throat and then re-lowered himself into the booth. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Maybe a beer, she thought. Ordinarily, she liked a good Scotch, but this was not an ordinary situation.

  “Yeah, Coors.” Then she tacked on. “Light.”

  He raised a hand and when the bartender came over, he said, “Two Coors Light.”

  “We close in a half hour.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  The human man grumbled away and came back immediatel
y with a pair of longnecks. “You want to pay for ’em?”

  Oskar nodded and shifted over so he could get his wallet out of his pocket. “Keep the change.”

  “Okay. Thanks—but we still close in thirty.”

  The guy was still muttering under his breath as he returned to washing glasses on the far side of the counter.

  “I’m glad you came,” Oskar said softly.

  As she picked at the label on her bottle, she could feel his eyes searching her face, her hair, her body.

  “You look different,” he murmured. “Harder. Stronger.”

  “It’s the training.”

  “It’s not all physical—”

  “Look, Oskar, I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of this, but I’m not interested in rehashing the past, okay? I lived through it, and it’s done. You’ve moved on with Sophy and so have I.”

  “I just…wanted to see you.”

  “Right before you mate—sorry, marry—my sister. Really? Come on. What kind of game are you playing here—”

  “I knew you were pregnant.”

  The words were quiet, but they hit her like a bomb, stopping her heart and her breath. “You did?”

  “Yes.” He nodded and looked down at his own bottle. “I mean…I wondered. You were getting sick first thing at night all the time. Or at least that’s what Sophy said. She thought it was the flu. She didn’t want to catch it.”

  Of course she didn’t.

  And now Novo was studying him. He was thinner. There were bags under his eyes. That beard was like a trimmed garden hedge on his face, and the glasses? The lenses in them were without prescription. They were just one more prop in the outfit.

  When you only looked at the superficial, she thought, standards were too easily met—and altered.

  “What happened to the young?” he asked roughly. “I mean, where did you go for the abortion?”

  As her stomach rolled, Novo pushed the beer aside. “What makes you think I had an abortion.”

  “I saw you, like, ten months later. You weren’t pregnant anymore.”

  Oh, riiiiight. She remembered that happy little reunion. She had come to her parents’ for dinner, having been invited by her mahmen. It had been after she had moved out and she had been feeling guilty that she hadn’t been back. So, yeah, sure, Mom, I’ll grin and bear it for a meal.