The Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4

by J. R. Ward

  When she peered into the hall, she couldn’t believe what she saw.

  Right in front of the OR’s door, in a great, breathing barrier, the brothers and Butch were sprawled out on the floor. The men were fast asleep, looking as exhausted as she felt. Vishous and Butch were propped up against the wall next to each other, a little TV and two guns between them. Rhage was flat on his back, snoring softly, with dagger in hand. Tohrment had his head balanced on his knees. Phury was lying on his side, clutching a throwing star to his chest as if it soothed him.

  Where was Zsadist?

  “I’m over here,” he said quietly.

  She jumped and looked to her right. Zsadist was fully armed, gun strapped on his hip, daggers crossed over his chest, length of chain shifting in his hand. His glittering black eyes regarded her steadily.

  “It’s my turn to stand guard. We’ve been taking shifts.”

  “Is it so dangerous here?”

  He frowned. “You don’t know?”

  “What?”

  He shrugged and looked down the hall. One way, then the other. Scanning.

  “The brotherhood protects what is ours.” His eyes refocused on her. “We would never leave you or him undefended.”

  She sensed he was evading, but wasn’t about to press. All that mattered was that she and Wrath were safe as her husband’s body healed.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Zsadist looked down quickly.

  How he hides from any warmth, she thought.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Four in the afternoon. It’s Thursday, by the way.” Zsadist brushed a hand over his skull trim. “So, ah, how’s he doing?”

  “He woke up.”

  “I knew he’d live.”

  “Did you?”

  His lip lifted in a snarl, as if he were going to make some kind of crack. But then he seemed to catch himself. He stared at her, his scarred face remote.

  “Yeah, Beth. I really did. No shotgun’s ever going to keep him from you.”

  And then Zsadist’s eyes shifted away.

  The others started to stir. A moment later, they were all on their feet, staring down at her. Butch, she noted, seemed right at home with the vampires.

  “How’s he feeling?” Tohr asked.

  “Good enough to try to tell me what to do.”

  The brothers laughed in a rush. The sound was one of relief. Of pride. Of love.

  “Either of you need anything?” Tohr asked.

  Beth looked at their faces. Each one was expectant. As if they hoped she would give them something to do.

  This really is my family, she thought.

  “I think we’re okay.” Beth smiled. “And I’m sure he’s going to want to see all of you soon.”

  “What about you?” Tohr asked. “How’re you holding up? You want to take a break?”

  She shook her head and pushed open the OR’s door. “Until he can walk out of here on his own two feet, I’m not leaving that bedside.”

  As the door closed behind Beth, Butch heard Vishous whistle under his breath.

  “That is one fine female, true?” V said.

  There was a low, affirmative grumble.

  “And someone you do not want to mess with,” the brother continued. “Man, you should have seen her when we came into that barn. She was standing over his body, ready to take the cop and me on with her bare hands if she had to. Like Wrath was her cub, you feel me?”

  “Wonder if she has a sister?” Rhage asked.

  Phury laughed. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you ran into a female of worth.”

  “This coming from you, Celibate?” But then Hollywood rubbed the stubble on his chin, as if considering the ways of the universe. “Ah, hell, Phury, you’re probably right. Still, a male can dream.”

  “He sure can,” V murmured.

  Butch thought of Marissa. He kept hoping she would come down, but he hadn’t seen her since she’d left the morning after the surgery. She’d looked so drawn, so distracted, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough on her mind. Her brother’s death was coming soon. Sooner still as Wrath recovered.

  Butch wanted to go to her, but wasn’t sure if she’d welcome his company. He just didn’t know her well enough. They’d had so little time together.

  Was he a curiosity? Some fresh blood she wanted to taste? Something more?

  Butch looked down the hallway, as if he could call her into being.

  God, he ached to see her. If only to know she was okay.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  A couple of days later, Wrath struggled to sit up before the brothers came in. He didn’t want them to see him flat on his back. The IV running into his arm and all the machines behind him were bad enough.

  But at least the catheter had been out since yesterday. And he’d managed to shave himself and take a shower. Having his hair clean was a beautiful thing.

  “What are you doing?” Beth demanded as she caught him moving around.

  “Sitting up—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” She grabbed the bed’s remote and tilted up the head.

  “Ah, hell, leelan, now I’m just lying down while sitting up.”

  “You’re fine.” She bent over to tuck the sheets in, and he caught sight of the curve of her breast. His body swelled. In the right place.

  But the rush made him think of the scene he’d walked in on at that barn. Of her latched down to that table. He didn’t care that lessers couldn’t get it up.

  He caught her hand. “Leelan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” They’d talked about what had happened, but still he worried.

  “I told you. My thigh’s healing up—”

  “Not just the physical stuff,” he said, wanting to kill Billy Riddle all over again.

  Her face clouded for an instant. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Because I refuse to have it any other way.”

  “You’re so brave. So resilient. You amaze me.”

  She smiled at him and leaned down for a quick kiss.

  He held her in place, talking against her lips. “And thank you for saving my life. Not just back in that barn. But for all the rest of my days and nights.”

  He kissed her a little more deeply and was happy to hear her gasp of pleasure. The sound brought his erection back to life, and he brushed his fingertips over her collarbone.

  “How ’bout you hop on up here with me?”

  “I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet.”

  “Wanna bet?” He took her hand and put it under the hospital sheets.

  Her throaty laugh as she gripped him gently was yet another marvel. Just like her constant presence in his room, her fierce protection of him, her love, her strength.

  She was everything to him. His whole world. He’d gone from being blasé about his death to being desperate to live. For her. For them. For their future.

  “What do you say we give it another day?” she said.

  “An hour.”

  “Until you can sit up on your own.”

  “Deal.”

  Thank God he was a fast healer.

  Her hand left his body. “Should I let the brothers in?”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Wait. I want you to know what I’m going to say.”

  He tugged her down, so she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m leaving the brotherhood.”

  She closed her eyes as if she didn’t want him to see how relieved she was. “Truly?”

  “Yeah. I’ve asked Tohr to be in charge. But I’m not taking a vacation. I have to start ruling our kind, Beth. And I need you to do it with me.”

  Her lids flipped open.

  He touched her face. “We’re talking king and queen time. And I’m going to be honest with you. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve got some ideas, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “Anything,” she said. “Anything for you.”
>
  Wrath could only stare at her in wonder.

  God, she really knocked him out. Here she was, ready to take on the world with him even though he was flat on his ass in a hospital bed. Her faith in him was astounding.

  “Have I told you that I love you, leelan?”

  “About five minutes ago. But I never get tired of hearing it.”

  He kissed her. “Get the brothers. Tell Butch to wait in the hall. But I want you to stay while I talk to them.”

  She let the warriors in and then came back to his side.

  The brotherhood walked up to the bed cautiously. Although he’d had a brief meeting with Tohr that morning, this was the first time he’d seen the rest of his warriors, and the first time they’d seen him. There was a lot of shallow coughing, like there were lumps being cleared out of throats. He knew what that felt like. He had a knot in his own.

  “My brothers—”

  At that moment, Havers came through the door. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Ah, the good doctor,” Wrath said. “Come in. We’ve got some unfinished business, you and I.”

  Havers had been in and out of the OR with regularity, but Wrath hadn’t felt up to dealing with the situation until now.

  “It’s time,” he commanded.

  Havers took a deep breath and walked up to the bed. He bowed his head. “My lord.”

  “I understand you tried to have me killed.”

  To the male’s credit, he didn’t try to run. He didn’t prevaricate. And although his sorrow and his regret were clear, he did not argue for leniency.

  “Yes, I did, my lord. I was the one who approached him.” He pointed to Zsadist. “And, when it was clear your brother would not betray you, the lesser.”

  Wrath nodded, having already talked to Tohrment about what had really gone down that night. Tohr had caught only part of Z’s response.

  “My lord, you should know that your brother was ready to kill me just for asking him.”

  Wrath eyed Zsadist, who was staring at the doctor like he wanted to mount the male’s head on a wall. “Yeah, I heard that didn’t go over too well. Z, I owe you an apology.”

  The warrior shrugged. “Don’t bother. They bore me.”

  Wrath smiled, thinking that was so like Z. Pissed off no matter the circumstance.

  Havers looked around at the brothers. “Here in front of these witnesses, I accept the sentence of death.”

  Wrath stared hard at the doctor. And thought of all those years the male’s sister had suffered. Even though Wrath had never intended for her life to be so grueling, the outcome had been his fault.

  “Marissa was the reason, wasn’t she?” Wrath said.

  Havers nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Then I’m not going to kill you. You did it because of the way I treated your loved one. Vengeance is something I can understand.”

  Havers seemed to wobble from shock. Then he dropped the chart he was holding and collapsed by the bed, grabbing Wrath’s hand and putting his forehead on it. “My lord. Your mercy knows no bounds.”

  “Yeah, the hell it doesn’t. I am giving you your life as a gift to your sister. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’m coming after you with a dagger. We clear?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Now leave us. You can poke and prod me later. But knock before you come in, got it?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  As Havers scooted out the door, Wrath kissed Beth’s hand. “Just in case we’re busy,” he whispered to her.

  A low, collective chuckle filled the room.

  He glared at the brothers to shut them up and then made his pronouncement. He knew he’d shocked the hell out of his warriors when there was a long silence.

  “So are you down with Tohr, or what?” he asked the group.

  “Yeah,” Rhage said. “I can deal.”

  Vishous and Phury nodded.

  “Z?”

  The warrior rolled his black eyes. “Come on, man. What does it matter to me? You, Tohr. Britney Spears.”

  Wrath laughed. “Was that a joke, Z? After all this time, have you finally found your sense of humor? Hell, you’re giving me another reason to live.”

  Z flushed and snarled a little while the others chided him.

  Wrath took a deep breath. “And my brothers, there’s something else. I’m ascending to the throne. As I’ve told Tohr, we need to rebuild. We need to revive the race.”

  The brothers stared. And then one by one, they came up to the bed and swore their fealty in the old language, taking his hand, kissing the inside of his wrist. Their grave reverence shook him, moved him.

  The Scribe Virgin was right, he thought. These were his people. How could he not lead them?

  When the warriors were finished with their oaths, he looked at Vishous. “Did you get the jars of the two lessers from that barn?”

  V frowned. “There was only one. The recruit that you and I met the night of your mating. I went back and stabbed the body while you were being operated on. Got his jar from the house.”

  Wrath shook his head. “There were two. There were definitely two. The other one was the lesser who was driving that Hummer.”

  “You sure he went down?”

  “He was on the ground with a blow to the head.” Abruptly, Wrath sensed Beth’s disquiet and squeezed her hand. “Enough, we’ll talk about this later.”

  “No, it’s all right—” she began.

  “Later.” He kissed the back of her hand and stroked it across his cheek. Holding on to her eyes with his own, he tried to reassure her, hating the world he’d brought her into.

  When she smiled at him, Wrath tugged her down for a quick kiss and then looked back at the brothers.

  “One more thing,” he said. “You’re going to move in together. I want the brotherhood in one place. At least for the next couple of years.”

  Tohr winced. “Man, Wellsie’s going to hate that. We just finished installing her dream kitchen.”

  “We’ll work out something for you two. Especially because there’s a child on the way. But the rest of you are going to be roommates.”

  There were grumbles. Serious grumbles.

  “Hey, it could be worse,” he said. “I could make you live with me.”

  “Good point,” Rhage said. “Man, Beth, if you ever need a break from him—”

  Wrath growled.

  “What I was gonna say,” Hollywood drawled, “was that she could move in with all of us for a while. We’ll always take care of her.”

  Wrath glanced up at Beth. God, she was so beautiful. His partner. His lover. His queen.

  He smiled, unable to look away from her eyes. “Leave us, gentlemen. I want to be alone with my shellan.”

  As the brothers filed out, they were laughing with masculine appreciation. As if they knew exactly what was on his mind.

  Wrath struggled on the bed, trying to force himself upright so that he bore the weight of his upper body on his hips.

  Beth watched him the whole time, refusing to help.

  When he was steady, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He could feel her skin already.

  “Wrath,” she said with warning as he beamed at her.

  “Come on up here, leelan. A deal’s a deal.”

  Even if all he could do was hold her, he just needed her in his arms.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  José de la Cruz shook the arson investigator’s hand. “Thanks. I look forward to your written report.”

  The man shook his head as he glanced back at the charred remains of the Caldwell Martial Arts Academy. “Never seen anything like this. You’d swear some kind of nuclear bomb went off. Frankly, I don’t know what to put in the file.”

  José watched the man walk over to his county truck and drive off.

  “You going back to the station?” Ricky asked while getting into his own squad car.

  “Not right now. I gotta head across town.”

  Ricky waved and h
eaded out.

  Alone at the site, José took a deep breath. The smell of the fire was pungent, even four days later.

  As he headed to his unmarked, he looked down at his shoes. They were pale gray from the twelve inches of soot that covered the site. The stuff was more volcano ash than anything left behind by a normal fire. And the ruins were odd, too. Usually parts of a structure survived, no matter how hot the flames. Here, nothing remained. The building had been razed to the ground.

  Like the arson investigator, he’d never seen anything of the sort.

  José got behind the wheel, stuck the key in the ignition, and put the car in gear. He drove eight miles to the east, into a grit-tier part of town. A series of unimpressive apartment buildings appeared, urban weeds that grew up from the concrete and asphalt ground.

  He stopped in front of one. Put the car in park. Turned off the engine. It was a long time before he could force himself out of the car.

  Steeling his nerves, he walked over to the front entrance. A couple was coming out, and they held the door open for him. After going up three flights of stairs, he headed down a ratty hall with carpeting that was flat and brown from having borne thousands of footsteps.

  The door he was looking for had been repainted so many times, its sunken panels were almost flush.

  He knocked, but did not expect any answer.

  Picking the lock was the work of a moment. He pushed the door open.

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. A body left for four or five days would smell by now, even in the air-conditioning.

  But there was nothing.

  “Butch?” he called out.

  He closed the door behind him. The couch was covered with the sports sections of the CCJ and the New York Post from the previous week. There were empty beer cans on the table. In the kitchen, there were dishes in the sink. More empties on the counter.

  José went into the bedroom. All he found was a bed with messy sheets and a lot of clothes on the floor.

  He paused by the bathroom door. It was closed.

  His heart started pounding.

  Pushing it open, he fully expected to find a body hanging from the showerhead.

  But there was nothing.

  Homicide Detective Butch O’Neal had disappeared. Without a trace.