The Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4

by J. R. Ward

  “But I don’t want to be angry at you.”

  There was a long pause. “Will you still see me tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  He seemed stunned by his good fortune. “Really? Man, you’re going for sainthood, you know that?” He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingertip. “Where, baby? Where’s good for you?”

  She thought for a moment. Havers would have a fit if he knew she was seeing a human.

  “Here. I will meet you here. Tomorrow night.”

  He smiled. “Good. Now, how’re you getting home? Do you need a ride? A taxi?”

  “No, I will do that myself.”

  “Wait—before you go.” He moved toward her. That lovely scent of his hit her nose and she breathed him in. “Can I kiss you good-night? Even though I don’t deserve it?”

  Per custom, she offered him the back of her hand.

  He took it and pulled her forward. That throbbing in her blood and between her legs came back.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  She did as he’d said.

  His lips softly brushed her forehead. Then her temple.

  Her mouth opened as the sweet suffocation returned.

  “You could never displease me,” he said in his gravelly voice.

  And then his lips touched her cheek.

  She waited for more. When nothing came, she opened her eyes. He was staring down at her remotely.

  “Go,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded. And dematerialized right out of his hand.

  Butch shouted and leaped back. “Shit!”

  He looked at his hand. He could still feel her palm against his. Still smell her perfume.

  But she was goddamned gone. Poof. One minute in front of him and then the next…

  Beth came running into the room. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay,” he snapped.

  The suspect strode in. “Where’s Marissa?”

  “How should I know! She fucking disappeared! In front…She was…I held her hand and then she—” He sounded like a frantic idiot and clapped his trap shut.

  But why wouldn’t he be freaked out? He liked the laws of physics just as he knew them. Gravity keeping everything on the flipping planet where it should be. E = mc2 telling him how fast he could get to a bar.

  People not poofing the hell out of a goddamned room.

  “May I tell him?” Beth asked her man.

  The suspect shrugged. “Usually I’d say no, because it’s better they don’t know. But considering what he saw—”

  “Tell me what? That you’re a bunch of—”

  “Vampires,” Beth murmured.

  Butch looked at her, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Try that one again, sweetheart.”

  But then she started talking, telling him things he couldn’t believe.

  When Beth fell silent, he could only stare at her. His instincts were telling him she wasn’t lying. But it was all just too hard to accept.

  “I don’t believe this,” he said to her.

  “It was hard for me to comprehend, too.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He paced around the room, wishing he had a drink. The two of them just stared at him.

  Finally, he stopped in front of Beth. “Open your mouth.”

  He heard a low, nasty sound behind him just as a cold draft hit him in the back.

  “Wrath, it’s okay,” Beth said. “Calm down.”

  She parted her lips, revealing two long canines that had very certainly not been there before. Butch felt his knees wobble as he reached out to touch her teeth.

  A thick hand clamped on his arm, tight enough to bend the bones in his wrist.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Beth’s man growled.

  “Let him go,” she commanded gently, though she didn’t offer her mouth again after the guy had released his grip. “They’re real, Butch. This whole thing…it’s all real.”

  Butch looked up at the suspect. “So you’re actually a vampire, is that it?”

  “You’d better believe it, cop.” The big, dark bastard smiled, flashing a monstrous set of fangs.

  Now that’s some serious hardware, Butch thought.

  “Did you bite her and turn her into one?”

  “Doesn’t work that way. You’re either born our kind or you’re not.”

  Well, weren’t all those Dracula fans going to be bummed? No two-pronged conversions.

  Butch let himself fall down onto the sofa. “Did you kill those women? To drink their…”

  “Blood? No. What’s in human veins wouldn’t keep me alive for long.”

  “So you’re telling me you had nothing to do with those deaths? I mean, we found throwing stars at the scenes that match the ones you were packing the night I arrested you.”

  “I didn’t kill them, cop.”

  “How about the one in the car?”

  The guy shook his head. “My prey is not human. What I fight’s got nothing to do with your world. And the bomb? We lost one of ours in it.”

  Beth made a quick, hard sound. “My father,” she whispered.

  The man drew her into his arms. “Yeah. And we’re looking for the bastard who did it.”

  “Any idea who pushed the button?” Butch asked, the cop in him coming out.

  The guy shrugged. “We got a bead on something. But that’s our business, not yours.”

  Yeah, and Butch had no reason to ask anyway. Because he wasn’t on the force.

  The guy stroked Beth’s back and shook his head. “I won’t lie to you, cop. Occasionally, a human gets in the way of what we do. And if anyone threatens our race, I will kill them, no matter who or what they are. But I’m not going to tolerate human casualties the same way I used to, and not just because it risks our exposure.” He pressed a kiss onto Beth’s mouth, meeting her eyes.

  At that point, the rest of the gang members filed into the room. Their cold stares made Butch feel like a bug under glass. Or a roast beef about to be carved up.

  Mr. Normal stepped forward and offered him a Scotch bottle. “You look like you could use some.”

  Yeah, you think?

  Butch took a swig. “Thanks.”

  “So can we kill him now?” said the one with the goatee and the baseball hat.

  Beth’s man spoke harshly. “Back off, V.”

  “Why? He’s just a human.”

  “And my shellan is half-human. The man doesn’t die just because he’s not one of us.”

  “Jesus, you’ve changed your tune.”

  “So you need to catch up, brother.”

  Butch got to his feet. If his death was going to be debated, he wanted in on the discussion.

  “I appreciate the support,” he said to Beth’s boy. “But I don’t need it.”

  He went over to the guy with the hat, discreetly switching his grip on the bottle’s neck in case he had to crack the damn thing over a head. He moved in tight, so their noses were almost touching. He could feel the vampire heating up, priming for a fight.

  “I’m happy to take you on, asshole,” Butch said. “I’ll probably end up losing, but I fight dirty, so I’ll make you hurt while you kill me.” Then he eyed the guy’s hat. “Though I hate clocking the shit out of another Red Sox fan.”

  There was a shout of laughter from behind him. Someone said, “This is gonna be fun to watch.”

  The guy in front of Butch narrowed his eyes into slits. “You true about the Sox?”

  “Born and raised in Southie. Haven’t stopped grinning since ’04.”

  There was a long pause.

  The vampire snorted. “I don’t like humans.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not too crazy about you bloodsuckers.”

  Another stretch of silence.

  The guy stroked his goatee. “What do you call twenty guys watching the World Series?”

  “The New York Yankees,” Butch replied.

  The vampire laughed in a loud burst, whipped the
baseball cap off his head, and slapped it on his thigh. Just like that, the tension was broken.

  Butch let out a long breath, feeling like he’d just been missed by an eighteen-wheeler. As he took another swig from the bottle, he decided it had been one weird fucking night.

  “Tell me that Curt Schilling was not a god,” the vampire said.

  There was a collective groan from the other men. One of them muttered, “If he starts going on about Varitek, I’m outta here.”

  “Schilling was a true warrior,” Butch said, taking another hit of the single-malt. When he offered the Scotch to the vampire, the guy grabbed the bottle and took a hard pull.

  “Amen to that,” the vampire said.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  When Marissa walked into her bedroom, she took a little spin, feeling her gown splay out around her.

  “Where have you been?”

  She stopped midtwirl. The dress came to a heel in a swirling rush.

  Havers was sitting on the chaise, his face in shadow. “I asked, where were you?”

  “Please don’t take that tone—”

  “You saw the brute.”

  “He’s not a—”

  “Do not defend him to me!”

  She wasn’t going to. She was going to tell her brother that Wrath had listened to her recrimations and accepted all blame for the past. That he’d apologized and his regret had been tangible. That although his words couldn’t make up for what had happened, she felt that she had been heard.

  And that even if her former hellren was the reason she’d gone to Darius’s, he wasn’t why she’d stayed.

  “Havers, please. Things are much different.” After all, Wrath had told her he was to be mated. And she had…met someone. “You must hear me out.”

  “No, I mustn’t. I know that you go to him still. That is enough.”

  Havers got off the chaise, moving without his usual grace. As he stepped into the light, she was horrified. His skin was gray, his cheeks hollow. He’d been getting thinner and thinner of late. Now, he looked like a skeleton.

  “You are ill,” she whispered.

  “I am perfectly well.”

  “The transfusion didn’t work, did it?”

  “Do not try to change the subject!” He glared at her. “God, I never thought it would come to this. I never thought you would hide from me.”

  “I have hidden nothing!”

  “You told me you had broken the covenant.”

  “I did.”

  “You lie.”

  “Havers, listen to me—”

  “No longer!” He did not meet her eyes as he opened the door. “You are all I have left, Marissa. Do not ask me to politely sit aside and play witness your destruction.”

  “Havers!”

  The door slammed.

  With grim determination, she ran out to the hall. “Havers!”

  He was already at the head of the stairs, and he refused to look back at her. His hand slashed violently in the air behind him, as if he were dismissing her.

  She went back to her room and sat down at her dressing table. It was a long while before she could take a full breath.

  Havers’s anger was understandable, but frightening because of its intensity and rarity. She’d never seen her brother in such a state. It was clear there would be no reasoning with him until he calmed down.

  Tomorrow she would talk with him. She would explain everything, even the new male she had met.

  She looked at herself in the mirror and thought of how the human had touched her. She brought her hand up, feeling again the sensation of him sucking her finger. She wanted more of him.

  Her fangs elongated slightly.

  What would his blood taste like?

  After settling Beth in her father’s bed, Wrath went to his chamber and dressed himself in a white shirt and long, baggy white pants. He grabbed a string of enormous black pearls out of an ebony box and knelt on the floor next to his bed, settling back on his heels. He put the necklace on, laid his hands palms-up on his thighs, and closed his eyes.

  As he marshaled his breath, his senses came alive. He could hear Beth shifting in the bed across the hall, sighing as she burrowed into the pillows. The rest of the house was fairly quiet, only subtle vibrations coming down to him. As some of the brothers were crashing in the upstairs bedrooms, male feet were moving around.

  He was willing to bet Butch and V were still talking baseball.

  Wrath had to smile. That human was a trip. One of the most aggressive men he’d ever come across.

  And as for Marissa liking the cop? Well, they’d all just have to see where that went. Having any kind of relationship with someone of the other species was dangerous. Sure, the brothers slept with a lot of human women, but those were one night only, so the memories were easy to erase. Once emotions got involved, and time passed, it was harder to do a good scrub job on the human brain. Things lingered. Surfaced later. Got people into trouble.

  Hell, maybe Marissa was just going to play with the guy and then suck him dry. Which was fine. But until either she killed him or took him for her own, Wrath was going to watch the situation carefully.

  Wrath harnessed his thoughts and started to chant in the old language, using the sounds to wipe out his cognitive processes. He was rusty at first, tripping over words. The last time he’d said the prayers, he’d been nineteen or twenty years old. Memories of his father sitting next to him and telling him what to say were a seductive diversion, but he forced his mind to be blank.

  The pearls began to warm against his chest.

  And then he found himself in a courtyard. The Italianate architecture was white; the marble fountain, the marble columns, the marble floor, all had a pale glow to them. The only splash of color came from a flock of songbirds sitting in a white tree.

  He stopped praying and got to his feet.

  “It has been a long time, warrior.” The regal female voice came from behind him.

  He turned around.

  The diminutive figure approaching him was completely draped in black silk. Her head and face were covered, her hands and feet, everything. She glided over to him, not walking, just moving through the still air. Her presence made him uneasy.

  Wrath bowed his head. “Scribe Virgin, how are you?”

  “More to the point, how fare you, warrior? You have come seeking change, have you not?”

  He nodded. “I—”

  “You wish the covenant with Marissa to be broken. You have found another and you would take her as your shellan.”

  “Yes.”

  “This female you want. She is the daughter of your brother Darius, who is in the Fade.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  She laughed slightly. “Do not make inquiries of me. I let your first question slide because you were being polite, but remember your manners, warrior.”

  Shit.

  “My apologies, Scribe Virgin.”

  “I grant you and Marissa freedom from your covenant.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was a long pause.

  He waited for her ruling on the second part of his request. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

  “Tell me something, warrior. Do you think your species is unworthy?”

  He frowned and then quickly smoothed his face into neutral. The Scribe Virgin wasn’t going to put up with being glowered at.

  “Well, warrior?”

  He had no idea where she was going with this. “My species is a fierce and proud race.”

  “I didn’t ask you for a statement of definition. I asked you what you thought of them.”

  “I protect them with my life.”

  “And yet you will not lead your people. So I can only surmise that you do not value them and therefore fight because you like to or because you wish to die. Which is it?”

  This time he let his frown stay in place. “My race survives because of what the brothers and I do.”

  “Barely. In fact, its numbers
dwindle. It does not thrive. The only localized colony is the one that settled on the United States’ East Coast. And even they live isolated from one another. There are no communities. The festivals are no longer held. Rituals are observed privately, if at all. There is no one to mediate disputes, no one to give them hope. And the Black Dagger Brotherhood is cursed. There are none left in it who do not suffer.”

  “The brothers have their…problems. But they are strong.”

  “And should be stronger.” She shook her head. “You have failed your bloodline, warrior. You have failed your purpose. So tell me, why should I grant your wish to take the half-breed as queen?” The Scribe Virgin’s robes moved as if she were shaking her head. “Better that you continue to merely service her with your staff than to have your people saddled with yet another meaningless figurehead. Go now, warrior. We are finished.”

  “I would have a word in my defense,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  “And I would deny you.” She turned away.

  “I beg of your mercy.” He hated saying the words, and he guessed by the sound of her laugh that she knew it.

  The Scribe Virgin came back to him.

  When she spoke, her tone was hard, hard as the black lines of her robe against all the white marble. “If you’re going to beg, warrior, do it properly. Get on your knees.”

  Wrath forced his body down to the ground, hating her.

  “I rather like you like this,” she murmured, back to being relatively pleasant. “Now, what were you saying?”

  He swallowed the hostile words in his throat, forcing himself to affect an even temper that was an absolute lie. “I love her. I want to honor her, not just have her to warm my bed.”

  “So treat her well. But there is no need to have a ceremony.”

  “I disagree.” He tacked on, “Respectfully.”

  There was a long pause.

  “You have sought no counsel from me over these centuries.”

  He lifted his head. “Is that what bothers you?”

  “Do not question me!” she snapped. “Or I will have that half-breed taken from you faster than your next breath.”

  Wrath put his head down and ground his fists into the marble.

  He waited.

  Waited so long, he was tempted to look and see if she had gone.

  “I will require a favor,” she said.