Black Of Mood (Quentin Black: Shadow Wars #2): Quentin Black World

by JC Andrijeski

  Angel laughed, shaking her head even as she avoided meeting his gaze.

  She still hadn’t said no, she noticed.

  She couldn’t help thinking Cowboy probably noticed that, too.

  26

  THE OPERATIVE THAT IS BLACK

  I WOKE UP cold, my back aching.

  I had no idea where I was, at first.

  Looking around the sea of white porcelain where I lay, I remembered.

  Once I did, so much anger rose in me, I could barely think for a few seconds. I bit my lip, forcing myself to breathe, to take in my surroundings instead. I was in a bathtub. In the sunken, jacuzzi bathtub in the bathroom of our penthouse hotel suite.

  I must have fallen asleep in here, some time after Black stopped pounding on the door, demanding I let him in.

  It was a testament to how completely fucking exhausted I’d been, that I’d managed to fall asleep in here, after I’d locked myself inside and jammed the door stop under the door.

  Shoving the kevlar vest off me, which I’d been using as a kind of blanket, I sat up with a wince and a grimace, carefully stretching my back. I was barefoot, still wearing the black pants and black T-shirt I’d put on in that wine cellar, still smelling of smoke and singed hair, only now with a mouth that tasted like stale coffee and blood.

  My whole damned body hurt, and not only from falling asleep in a dry bathtub after screaming at my husband for what felt like at least eight hours.

  Stepping carefully out of the tub and onto the stone tile, I walked down the steps leading to the bathroom floor. Once I reached it, I just stood there for a few seconds more, curling my toes in the thick rug. After another bare second of thought, I tugged the shirt over my head and unbuckled my belt. Wriggling out of the form-fitting pants, I removed my underwear once I’d finished, and stepped into the shower.

  Cranking the heat all the way up, I turned the water on full blast.

  I tried to use the hot spray to empty my mind.

  I was still so angry I could barely form sentences, even inside my own head.

  I probably should have snuck out, knocked on Angel’s door, used her shower instead, borrowed her clothes.

  Some part of me still wanted to go into the other room and wake Black up, start screaming at him again. I guess I at least wanted the option, since I hadn’t already left the hotel room––or hell, New York, for that matter––as soon as I felt him fall asleep in the other room.

  Piece of shit bastard.

  Pain hit the center of my chest, even as I thought it, as I remembered his words.

  “Why are you so fucking mad at me?” he’d shouted, mostly to be heard over me shouting at him. “This was an op, Miriam! It was a fucking op! I didn’t cheat on you! You fucking agreed to this! We talked about it!”

  “I agreed to this?” I’d stared up at him in disbelief. “What did I agree to?”

  He stopped, meeting my gaze, confused. “You agreed we should erase you, that you shouldn’t remember––”

  “Did I agree to you sucking Ravi’s cock? Did I agree to that, Black?”

  He stared at me, his face utterly blank.

  “Yeah,” I’d snapped. “I didn’t fucking think so.”

  From his perspective, this had been a black ops thing, nothing to do with me. He insisted we’d planned all of the big pieces of it together, but the more he talked, the more I just wanted to put his head through a goddamned window.

  “So all that time?” I’d snarled at him. “All that time you were lying to me? About the sex? About my dreams? About YOUR dreams? About you not knowing who the seers had in our camp? It was all some fucking ‘op,’ me thinking you were losing your mind?”

  He’d just stared at me that time, too, that same bewildered look on his face, like he couldn’t figure out why I was reacting the way I was.

  When I asked him what Ravi had done to him, what he’d let them do to him, his face only blanked more.

  “Miri…” he’d said, bewilderment in his voice. “You knew they would do this! I told you exactly how vampires were when they fed.”

  “Then next time, it’ll be me who does it,” I’d snapped. “How would you like that? I’ll just give head to the whole fucking vampire army, and it’ll just be ‘black ops,’ right? Isn’t that what you’re telling me?”

  He hadn’t liked that very much. He hadn’t said much to it, though.

  Probably because he couldn’t.

  “And you let me think I was being the asshole,” I’d said, furious when tears came to my eyes. “That night, when I hit you. When I said your energy felt different––”

  “I’m sorry about that, Miri,” he’d said, raising a hand. “I’m fucking sorry, all right? I didn’t have any choice but to tell you that! Don’t you get it? I had no choice!”

  “Is that why you started sleeping with me again?” I’d snapped. “Because you figured out you could lie to me about it? Because I believed your bullshit story about why your light felt different?”

  His expression altered. Seeing the uncomfortable look growing there, I’d ground my teeth hard enough that they hurt. Seeing my expression, he’d scowled.

  “That wasn’t the reason, Miri!” At my openly disbelieving look, he’d raised his voice. “It wasn’t… me asking you about Puzzle was just me being careful! I was going to back down on getting Brick. I was going to kill Ravi if I had to, and let Brick go. After we found that stuff on the Empire State Building, I knew the op would be over soon. There was no way to evacuate that area without the vampires finding out about it. We couldn’t just sneak out employees, like we did with the refineries––”

  “No, I get it,” I’d said, staring up at him. “You thought it was almost over, and you got away with lying to me, so why not get a little on the side?” Shaking my head, I grunted, folding my arms. “Knowing you, you did it to strengthen our light bond. In case you needed to talk to me in your head… even with the vamps there.”

  He’d winced, looking at me with overt guilt in his eyes.

  That’s when I threw the first vase at him.

  Unfortunately, there’d been a lot of glass in our suite.

  Everything from round crystal ball-like things covering the counters in the main sitting area, making up a kind of modern-art sculpture on either side of the couch, to at least six, good-sized vases that had flowers in them before I broke them.

  In my defense, I didn’t aim most of them at him.

  Most of them, I just threw at the walls.

  I just wanted to break something.

  I wanted to feel something break, even if it was only inside me.

  I threw the ring he’d bought me at him, too.

  I told him he was a piece of shit. I told him I wanted a divorce. I told him he was as much of a sociopath as Brick, that he needed serious help, more than I or anyone else could give him. I told him I wished I’d slept with Nick.

  In the end, I ran out of words.

  I have no idea how long I yelled at him. All I knew was, at the end, I didn’t know where to go. I should have left the suite altogether, asked Angel to take me somewhere, anywhere where Black wasn’t––but for some reason, I’d come in here and locked the door instead.

  Once I’d trapped myself in here, I could only wait for Black to leave.

  Or maybe for him to break down the door.

  For awhile, as he pounded on the outside, yelling in at me, I thought he might do just that. He didn’t, though. In the end, he must have decided to give me space, because it got quiet on that side of the door, too.

  I assumed he’d left. Or maybe gone to sleep.

  I didn’t use my mind or my light to try and find out which it was.

  For all I knew, he was down at the bar, getting drunk with some of his goddamned groupies.

  At that thought, I turned off the shower.

  Pushing open the glass door, I grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around my torso, pausing only long enough to squeeze out my hair. I didn’t bother t
o do anything with my clothes but walked directly to the door, kicking out the door-stopper and opening it.

  Walking down the hall, I clenched my jaw as I entered the living area.

  It was silent as a tomb. He must have left.

  The realization brought a confusing combination of rage and relief.

  Walking carefully around glass shards on the floor in the area of carpet I had to cross to get to our bedroom, I stalked into the hallway beyond. Reaching the bedroom itself, I threw open the door and walked inside.

  One glance at the bed told me it hadn’t been slept in. Obviously, given the state of the living room area, the maids hadn’t been in here yet, either.

  Grimacing, I threw off the towel, forcing my eyes off the bed.

  I entered the walk-in closet and switched on the light.

  The sheer number of clothes both frustrated and angered me.

  A part of me wanted to wear one of the skin-tight dresses Jonas picked out, maybe spend the rest of the day in bars in the West Village, getting hammered and kissing random strangers. The bigger assholes they were, the better.

  The sheer pettiness of the thought made me grimace.

  In the end, I threw on a pair of black jeans and a tank top. Spending a bare minimum of minutes putting my wet hair up in a bun, I brushed my teeth and decided I didn’t give a damn about make-up either. Maybe I’d just go downstairs like this, ask Dex to drive me to the airport. To hell with Black and his security protocols.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter now.

  The thought made me hesitate slightly, staring at my own reflection in the mirror.

  In the end, Black got what he wanted.

  The vampires wouldn’t dare go near us, not now.

  Brick would never go near us again.

  Frowning, I shoved the thought away, turning back to the bathroom door.

  I threw on rubber-soled running shoes before I left the bedroom and braved the living room a second time. Even so, I stepped around the glass carefully, avoiding the biggest pieces as I aimed my feet for the front door. I was so focused on not skewering my foot with one of the bigger shards, I didn’t see him until he moved.

  I’d nearly reached the suite’s front door by then.

  Seeing that flicker of movement to my left, in the sunken, sitting area of the room, pulled my eyes. I turned my head before I thought about the likely source.

  Black sat there, watching me silently.

  His back unnaturally straight, he took up one of the orange, suede chairs, his feet planted on the carpet, still wearing the heavy leather boots. His gold eyes were wary as he watched me return his gaze. He shifted in the chair, but didn’t look away.

  He hadn’t changed his clothes.

  From the circles under his eyes, he hadn’t slept much, either.

  I could only look at him at first, taking him in as he did me. Seeing the wariness in his eyes fade into something closer to fear, I bit my lip, averting my gaze.

  “Cut it out,” I said, my voice cold.

  He didn’t answer.

  When I looked back at him, that fear had, if anything, grown more prominent. Seeing the vulnerability there, mixed with something that looked a lot like submission, I had to fight another surge of near-violence in my light.

  “You’re a piece of shit,” I told him.

  Some of the punch had gone out of my words that time, and I heard it.

  He still didn’t speak. That fear didn’t really leave his light, but I saw it mix with something that felt more like caution.

  “I should leave you,” I told him, angry. “I should go sleep with half of this fucking city. See how you like it.” When he winced, not answering, I made my voice colder. “Maybe you won’t care though,” I said, biting. “I mean, you’re famous now, right? Not like pussy’s going to be a problem for you from now on.” I let out an angry snort. “…As if it ever was.”

  I felt a pang of hurt leave him.

  He still didn’t speak.

  “So you’re just going to sit there?” I snapped. “You’re going to let me be the raving lunatic, while you sit there, waiting for me to be ‘rational’?” I bit my lip harder, tasting blood again. “I thought this was normal for our kind, Black?” I snapped. “I thought this is what you wanted? For me to act as completely fucking insane as you do?”

  He rose to his feet.

  I flinched, stepping back, but he didn’t hesitate.

  Walking across the glass-covered carpet, he didn’t stop until he was only a few feet away. Looking up at him, I took in his height and my jaw hardened more.

  “I should leave you,” I snapped.

  He swallowed.

  As I stared up at him, his eyes brightened.

  “I should fucking leave you!” I said, hitting him in the chest.

  He didn’t move, not even to try and block the hit.

  “What do you want from me?” I said. “Do you want me to leave?”

  Clenching his jaw, he shook his head, swallowing again. He wiped his eyes with his palm while I watched, and my chest clenched.

  Looking up at him, I wanted to hit him again.

  I wanted to, but I didn’t.

  I just stood there, instead, watching him cry.

  For a brief instant, a different image flashed behind my eyes. I saw him younger again. I saw him standing on the other side of an electric fence, a collar around his neck.

  “Don’t fucking guilt me about this!” I snapped. “Don’t do it, Black!”

  He shook his head. His throat moved, almost like he was trying to speak, but he didn’t.

  “This isn’t my fault!” I said.

  He caught hold of my arms. Pulling me towards him, he looked down at me, so much pain in his expression, for a few seconds, I couldn’t tear away my eyes.

  Swallowing, I looked up at him, my muscles tense under his fingers. Staring at his eyes, I fought with the anger coursing through me, knowing that wasn’t everything I felt, or even most of what I felt. The rest of it was harder to deal with than anger, though.

  I felt trapped. I felt trapped with him.

  Black’s fingers tightened on my arms, so much they hurt.

  When I looked up that time, the pain in his expression cut my breath.

  “You’re not trapped, Miri,” he said. He shook his head, that pain reaching his voice. “You’re not trapped. You aren’t––”

  “Bullshit,” I snapped. “Of course I am.”

  Staring at him, I fought with the pain twisting in my chest.

  With him this close, I couldn’t get away from any of it. I could feel everything on him. His parents. Brick. His worry for me. His terror that I might leave. That abyss of loneliness I’d felt on him before––that I’d been feeling on him off and on since we first met.

  “Fuck you,” I told him.

  Tears came to my eyes, and then I was choking on a sob.

  “Fuck you,” I repeated.

  Staring up at him, though, I could only think it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what I said. It didn’t matter what he did to me. It never mattered, not with him.

  I was trapped.

  I was trapped with him.

  His fingers tightened, so much so I winced, writhing in his hands.

  “I love you.” His voice was thick, deeper than I’d ever heard it. “I love you, Miri. Don’t leave me. Please, gods, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. Anything you ask. Just please…” His voice broke. “Please don’t fucking leave me, Miri.”

  His words felt like a knife to my chest.

  I just stood there after he said them, breathing, fighting to think. Once I got past the jolt of pain, I shook my head, but not because I didn’t believe him.

  For a long moment, we both just stood there, looking at each other.

  When he pulled me closer, enfolding me cautiously in his arms, I let him.

  He hugged me to his chest, so tightly I could barely breathe. As he did, his voice rose in my mind, a murmur filled with panic and love and
fear and promise.

  I’ll see someone, he promised. I’ll see whoever you want, Miri… about the childhood stuff. About the dreams and Brick and Ravi. All of it. I’ll give you back all of your memories… everything I took for the op. I’ll tell you or show you anything you want to see… anything about what I did. Anything about me. Anything Miri. He hesitated as if his mind had blanked out, as if he couldn’t think how to go on. I’ll do anything you want, Miri. Just tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you need. I’ll do it.

  I didn’t answer at first.

  Truthfully, I couldn’t answer him. I could barely make sense of his words, or the feelings crashing over me from his light.

  He held me tighter, and that fear coming off him intensified.

  Miri, he sent. Tell me what to do. Please. Pain came off him in a hard pulse. Please, goddamn it.

  Leaning my forehead against his chest, I forced myself to take a breath.

  Then I looked up, staring into his eyes.

  Seeing the tears blurring the gold, I clenched my jaw.

  I already knew the truth of us. It hurt me, but some part of me had accepted it, too. At times like this, it infuriated me. It made me feel powerless and weak, like my life wasn’t truly my own anymore, but something I’d half-given to someone else, someone I had no power to influence or control, or even understand half the time.

  I knew it wasn’t always like that, though.

  At other times, that truth gave me a sense of purpose, even a sense of place in the world. I can’t say I’d ever found that place safe or comforting in any way, but I did feel it as meaningful. It felt right, even. We couldn’t just cop out, he and I. We couldn’t just lie to ourselves, or pretend that if things got too hard, we’d just walk away.

  I wouldn’t leave. I knew that now.

  Neither would he.

  Right then, I honestly couldn’t decide how I felt about that. As he held me, standing on that glass-covered carpet, I realized that I’d chosen it, though.

  I’d chosen it, and that’s the way it was now.

  That’s the way it was for both of us.

  * * *

  WANT TO KNOW HOW MIRI & BLACK MET?