Lover Unleashed bdb-9

by J. R. Ward

  The familiarity of the body poised over his was nothing he’d ever had before, and it felt right. It felt good. He knew every curve and corner of Saxton’s chest and hips and thighs. He knew the pressure points and the places to bite, knew exactly how to grip and roll and arch so that Saxton would come hard.

  So, yes, he probably shouldn’t have had to ask.

  Qhuinn, though . . . anything about that male unpeeled him and left him raw. And for all he had learned to bandage himself up on the outside, the wound remained just as bad and deep as the moment it had been made—when it became obvious that the one male he wanted above all others was never, ever going to be with him.

  Saxton eased back. “Qhuinn can’t handle what he feels about you.”

  Blay laughed harshly. “Let’s not talk about him.”

  “Why not?” Saxton reached out and ran his thumb back and forth over Blay’s lower lip. “He’s here with us whether we do or we don’t.”

  Blay thought about lying and then gave up the fight. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s all right—I know what I’m in.” Saxton’s free hand sneaked under the duvet. “And I know what I want.”

  Blay groaned as that palm rubbed against what immediately became a thick erection. And as his hips lifted and he spread his legs for Saxton, he met the eyes of his lover and sucked that thumb into his mouth.

  This was so much better than getting on the Qhuinn roller coaster—this he knew and he liked. He was safe here. He didn’t get hurt here.

  And he had found a deep, sexual connection here.

  Saxton’s stare was both hot and serious as he released what he’d found, pulled the covers off of Blay’s body and freed the knot on the tie of his own robe.

  This was very good, Blay thought. This was right—

  As his lover’s mouth found his collarbone and then drifted lower, Blay closed his eyes—except as he began to get lost in the sensations, what he saw was not Saxton.

  “Wait, stop—” He sat up and took the other male with him.

  “It’s okay,” Saxton said quietly. “I know where we’re at.”

  Blay’s heart cracked a little. But Saxton just shook his head and put his lips back to Blay’s chest.

  They had never spoken of love—and this made him realize they never were going to, because Saxton was indeed clear on things: Blay was still in love with Qhuinn—and probably always would be.

  “Why?” he said to his lover.

  “Because I want you for however long I have you.”

  “I’m going nowhere.”

  Saxton just shook his head against the tight abdominals he was nipping at. “Stop thinking, Blaylock. Start feeling.”

  As that talented mouth went all the way down, Blay hissed in a breath and decided to take the advice. Because it was the only way to survive.

  Something told him that it was only a matter of time before Qhuinn came forward and announced that he and Layla were getting mated.

  He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did. The two had been hooking up for weeks, and the Chosen had been in there again the day before—he’d caught her scent and sensed her blood next door.

  And though this conviction could have just been a mental exercise to depress the hell out of himself, he felt like it was so much more than that. It was as if the fog that normally obscured the coming days and months and years had grown unbearably thin and the shadows of destiny were showing themselves to him.

  Just a matter of time.

  God, that was going to kill him.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he groaned.

  “Me, too,” his lover said sadly around his erection. “Myself as well.”

  FIFTY-NINE

  The following evening, Payne paced around the front of the Brotherhood’s mansion, going from the dining room through the foyer and into the billiards room and back again. And again. And again.

  Her male had departed from the house in the middle of the afternoon to “take care of some things.” And though he’d declined to inform her what they were, she’d very much enjoyed the slightly naughty smile on his face as he’d tucked her into the bed they’d fully used during the night—and then left.

  No sleep for her after that. None at all.

  There was too much to be happy about.

  And surprised about.

  Pausing in front of one of the French doors that opened into the courtyard, she thought of the photograph he’d shown her. It was so obvious he was of blooded relation to Butch—and thereby the king. But neither Manuel nor she was interested in risking a regression. No, she very much agreed with him on that. They had each other, and considering what they’d already overcome, there was no reason to chance a bad outcome.

  Besides, the information would change nothing: The king had opened his house to her male even without a formal declaration of blooded affinity, and Manuel was going to be allowed to have contact with his human mother. Further, it had been decided that he would work here, with Doc Jane, but also with Havers. After all, the race needed more good doctors, and Manuel was superlative.

  And as for her? She was going to go out and fight. Neither Manuel nor her brother was exactly thrilled with the danger she was going to face, but they were not going to stop her. In fact, after she had spoken to Manuel at length, he seemed to accept that that was a part of who she was. His only caveat was that she get the very best weapons—and her brother had insisted on seeing to that.

  Fates, the two of them seemed to be getting along. And who could have ever predicted?

  Moving to the next window down the line, she searched the darkness for headlights.

  Where was he? Where was he . . .

  Manuel was also going to talk to Doc Jane about the physical changes he’d experienced—changes that, given the way Payne glowed whenever they made love, were likely to continue. He was going to monitor his body and see what happened, and they were both praying that all she did was keep him healthy and perpetually young. Only time would tell.

  With a curse, she doubled back, crossed the foyer . . . and entered the dining room.

  Down at the third window in the row, she glanced up into the heavens. She had no interest in going to see her mother. It would have been wonderful to share her love with those who had brought her into the world. But her sire was dead, and her mahmen? She didn’t trust the Scribe Virgin not to imprison her again: Manuel was a half-breed. Hardly the pure stock her mother would have approved of—

  The pair of glowing eyes mounting the rise upon which the compound was built made her heart race. And then there was the music—a thumping beat curling in through the glass.

  Payne tore out of the dining room and ripped across the mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom. She was out through the vestibule and into the dark night a moment later—

  She skidded to a halt at the top of the steps.

  Manuel had not come back unaccompanied. Behind his Porsche, there was a massive vehicle of some sort . . . a huge, two-part vehicle.

  Her male got out from behind the wheel of his car. “Hi,” he called out.

  He was all smiles as he came up to her, put his hands on her hips, and brought her against his chest. “I missed you,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “Me, too.” Now she was smiling as well. “But . . . whatever have you brought?”

  The elderly butler stepped out from behind the wheel of the other vehicle. “Sire, shall I—”

  “Thanks, Fritz, but I’ll take care of it from here.”

  The butler bowed low. “It has been a pleasure to have been of service.”

  “You’re the best, man.”

  The doggen was positively beaming as he danced into the house. And then her male turned to her.

  “Stay here.”

  As a stamping sound emanated from inside the big contraption, she frowned. “Of course.”

  After kissing her again, Manuel disappeared around the far side.

  Doors opening. More stamp
ing. Creaking and a rolling sound, followed by a rhythmic thumping. And then—

  The whinny told her what she had not dared to hope for. And then his beautiful filly backed down a ramp and was brought around to her.

  Payne clasped her hands to her mouth as tears formed. The horse was mincing with grace, her sleek coat shining in the light that bled from the house, her strength and vitality returned to her.

  “What . . . whatever is she here for?” Payne said hoarsely.

  “Human men give their fiancées something as a token of their love.” Manuel smiled broadly. “I thought Glory was better than any diamond I could buy you. Means more to me . . . and hopefully, to you, too.”

  When she made no response at all, he held out the leather lead that was clipped to the horse’s bridle. “I’m giving her to you.”

  At that, Glory let out a tremendous whinny and pranced as if she agreed with this change in ownership.

  Payne wiped her eyes and threw herself at Manuel, kissing him deeply. “I have no words.”

  And then she accepted the lead as Manuel went all robin-chested with pride.

  Taking a deep breath, she—

  Before Payne was conscious of moving, she sprang up into the air, mounting Glory as if the pair of them had been together for years, not minutes.

  And the horse needed no heel, no permission, no anything—Glory leaped forward, clawing her hooves into the pebbles and taking off at a dead run.

  Payne wound her fingers through the long black mane and balanced herself perfectly upon the strong back that surged beneath her. As the wind hit her face, she laughed in pure exultation as they took off in a streak of joy and freedom. Yes . . . yes! A thousand yesses!

  To set upon the night.

  To have freedom to move.

  To have love waiting upon her.

  This was more than just being alive. This was to live.

  As Manny stood by the horse trailer and watched his girls take off together, he was out of his damn mind with happiness. They were a perfect match, the pair of them cut from the same cloth, and both were whole and strong and tearing through the darkness at a gallop that most cars would have trouble keeping up with.

  Okay. Maybe he teared up just a little. But what the fuck. This was an incredible night for—

  “I saw this.”

  “Jesus Christ—” He grabbed his cross and wheeled around. “Do you always sneak up on people?”

  Payne’s brother didn’t answer—or perhaps couldn’t. The vampire’s eyes were locked on his sister and her galloping horse, and he seemed as moved as Manny was.

  “I thought it was a stallion, though.” Vishous shook his head. “But yeah, this is what I saw . . . her on a black Thoroughbred, her hair in the breeze. I didn’t think it was the future, though . . .”

  Manny turned back to his girls, who were far off down the retaining wall and making a fat turn to return toward the house.

  “I love her so damned much,” Manny heard himself say. “That’s my heart right there. That’s my woman.”

  “Word.”

  As a powerful accord weaved between the pair of them, Manny felt like he was home in so many ways; and he didn’t want to think too much about that for fear the fragile blessings would fall apart.

  A moment later, he glanced over. “Mind if I ask you something.”

  “G’head.”

  “What the fuck did you do to my car?”

  “What, you mean the music?”

  “Where did all my—”

  “Shit go?” Diamond eyes met his. “You gonna live here, you’re going to start listening to my tunes, true.”

  Manny shook his head. “You’re kidding me.”

  “You saying you didn’t like the beats?”

  “Whatever.” After a harrumph, Manny copped, “Fine, they didn’t absolutely suck.”

  The laugh was just a liiiiiiittle too triumphant. “Knew it.”

  “So what was it?”

  “Now he wants names.” The vampire took out a hand-rolled and lit it. “Let’s see . . . Eminem’s ‘Cinderella Man.’ Lil Wayne’s ‘I Am Not a Human.’ Tupac’s . . .”

  The list went on and on, and Manny mostly listened as he went back to watching his woman ride while he rubbed the heavy gold weight of his crucifix.

  He and Payne were together . . . that Butch guy and he were going to church together at midnight . . . and Vishous hadn’t stabbed him. Plus if memory served, Payne’s twin drove that black Escalade over there, and that meant payback was going to be a shitload of Black Veil Bride, Bullet for My Valentine, and Avenged Sevenfold getting loaded into that SUV’s sound system.

  Just the thought made him smile.

  All in all?

  He felt like he’d won the lottery. In each of the fifty states. At the same time.

  That was how lucky they all were.

  BY J. R. WARD

  THE BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD SERIES

  Dark Lover

  Lover Eternal

  Lover Awakened

  Lover Revealed

  Lover Unbound

  Lover Enshrined

  The Black Dagger Brotherhood:

  An Insider’s Guide

  Lover Avenged

  Lover Mine

  NOVELS OF THE FALLEN ANGELS

  Covet

  Crave

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 36cb4ecd-7dd1-4529-9b45-6eacbe606ece

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 29.3.2011

  Created using: calibre 0.7.52, FB Editor v2.3 software

  Document authors :

  Bakoro

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

  (Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/