by J. R. Ward
He glanced at her over his shoulder. He knew if he tried to hold her she’d bolt from the room, so he grabbed on to the edge of the mattress. And squeezed.
“What am I doing?” She laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry to burden you with all this. I know you’ve moved on and everything.”
“Moved on?” he ground out. “How you figure that?”
“The woman last night. Anyway—”
“What female?”
When she shook her head, he lost his temper. “God damn you, can you just answer my question without a fucking fight? Consider it a pity throw, a novelty. I’m leaving in a few minutes anyway, so you won’t have to worry about doing it again.”
As her shoulders sagged he felt like hell for yelling at her. But before he could apologize, she said, “I’m talking about the woman you took to bed last night. I…I waited for you. I wanted to tell you I was sorry…. I saw you go into your room with her. Look, I didn’t bring this up to guilt you or something.”
No, of course not. She didn’t want anything from him. Not his love. Not his support. Not his guilt. Not even the sex.
He shook his head, his voice going flat. He was so tired of explaining himself to her, but he did it out of reflex. “That was the Directrix of the Chosen. We were talking about my feeding, Mary. I wasn’t having sex with her.”
He looked down at the floor. Then let go of the bed and put his head in his hands.
There was a silence. “I’m sorry, Rhage.”
“Yeah. So am I.”
He heard a hiccupping noise and shuffled his fingers so he could see her face through a hole. But she wasn’t crying. No, not Mary. She was too strong for that.
He wasn’t, though. He had tears in his eyes.
Rhage cleared his throat and blinked a lot. When he glanced over at her again, she was staring at him with a tenderness and sorrow that made him violent.
Oh, great. Now she was pitying him because he was all sloppy and shit. Man, if he didn’t love her as much as he did, he would have hated her at this moment.
He stood up. And made damn sure his voice was as tough as she was when he spoke. “That alarm system in your house will be wired to us. If it gets triggered, I’ll”—he corrected himself—“one of us will come running. Vishous will contact you here when it’s up and rolling.”
As the silence stretched, he shrugged. “So…bye.”
He walked out the door and did not allow himself to look back.
When he got downstairs, he found Bella in the living room. The instant the female saw his face, her eyes popped wide. Clearly he looked as god-awful as he felt.
“Thanks,” he said, though he wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for. “And just so you know, the Brotherhood is going to do drive-bys on your house. Even after she leaves.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
He nodded and didn’t dawdle. At this point it was all he could do to get himself out the door without splitting wide-open and howling like a baby.
As he walked away from the house and down the lawn a little, he had no idea what to do or where to go. He probably should call Tohr, find out where the other brothers were, link up with them.
Instead he stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead, the moon was rising just above the tree line, and it was full, a fat, luminescent disk in the cold, cloudless night. He extended his arm toward it and squeezed one eye shut. Angling his line of sight, he positioned the lunar glow in the cradle of his palm and held the apparition with care.
Dimly, he heard a pounding noise coming from inside of Bella’s. Some kind of rhythmic beat.
Rhage glanced behind him as it got louder.
The front door flew open, and Mary shot out of the house, jumping off the porch, not even bothering with the steps to the ground. She ran over the frost-laden grass in her bare feet and threw herself at him, grabbing on to his neck with both arms. She held him so tightly his spine cracked.
She was sobbing. Bawling. Crying so hard her whole body was shaking.
He didn’t ask any questions, just wrapped himself around her.
“I’m not okay,” she said hoarsely between breaths. “Rhage…I’m not okay.”
He closed his eyes and held on tight.
Chapter Thirty-five
O lifted the mesh cover off the sewer pipe and shined a flashlight down into the hole. The young male inside was the one they’d caught the night before with the truck. The thing was alive, having survived the day. The storage facility had worked beautifully.
The center’s door swung open. Mr. X walked in, all pounding boots and sharp eyes. “Did it live?”
O nodded and put the mesh cover back into place. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
“I was just going to take him out again.”
“Not right now, you don’t. I want you to visit these members.” Mr. X handed over a piece of paper with seven addresses on it. “E-mail check-ins are efficient, but proving somewhat unreliable. I’m getting confirmations from these Betas, but when I talk to their squadrons, I hear reports that no one has seen them in days or longer.”
Instinct told O to step carefully. Mr. X all but accused him of killing Betas in the park, and now the Fore-lesser wanted him to go check on them?
“There a problem, Mr. O?”
“No. No, problem.”
“And another thing. I have three new recruits I’m bringing on. Their initiations are taking place over the next week and a half. Do you want to come? Watching from the sidelines provides quite a show.”
O shook his head. “I’d better stay focused here.”
Mr. X smiled. “Worried that the Omega might get distracted by your charms?”
“The Omega is not distracted by anything.”
“You’re so wrong about that. He can’t stop talking about you.”
O knew there was a good chance Mr. X was fucking with his head, but his body didn’t have the same confidence. His knees loosened and he broke out in a cold sweat.
“I’ll start on the list now,” he said, going for his jacket and keys.
Mr. X’s eyes glinted. “You do that, son, you run right along. I’m going to play with our visitor a little.”
“Whatever you like. Sensei.”
“So this is home now,” Mary murmured when Rhage shut the door to their bedroom.
She felt his arms come around her waist, and he pulled her back against his body. As she glanced at the clock, she realized they’d left Bella’s only an hour and a half ago, but her whole life had changed.
“Yeah, this is your home. Our home.”
The three boxes lined up against the wall were full of her clothes, her favorite books, some DVDs, a few photos. With Vishous, Butch, and Fritz showing up to help her, it hadn’t taken long to pack up some things, get them into V’s Escalade, and be driven back to the mansion. Later she and Rhage would return to finish the job. And in the morning she was going to call the law office and quit. She was also getting a real estate agent to sell the barn.
God, she’d really gone and done it. Moved in with Rhage and given up on her old life completely.
“I should unpack.”
Rhage took her hands and pulled her in the direction of the bed. “I want you to rest. You look too tired to even be standing.”
While she stretched out, he took off his trench coat and removed his dagger holster and his gun belt. He eased down next to her, creating a dip in the mattress that sucked her right against him. All the lamps went out at once, the room plunging into ink.
“You sure you’re ready for all this?” she said as her eyes adjusted to the ambient glow from the windows. “For all my…stuff?”
“Don’t make me use the F-word again.”
She laughed. “I won’t. It’s just—”
“Mary, I love you. I’m more than ready for all your stuff.”
She put her hand on his face and they were quiet for a time, just breathing together.
She was on the verge of falling aslee
p when he said, “Mary, about the arrangements for me to feed. While we were at your house, I called on the Chosen. Now that you’re back with me, I’ll need to use them.”
She stiffened. But hell, if she was going to be with a vampire, and he couldn’t live off her blood, they were going to have to deal with the problem somehow.
“When will you do it?”
“A female is supposed to be coming tonight, and as I said before, I’d like you to be with me. If you’d be comfortable with that.”
What would it look like? she wondered. Would he hold the woman in his arms and drink from her neck? God, even if he didn’t have sex with her, Mary wasn’t sure she could watch that.
He kissed her hand. “Trust me. It’ll be better this way.”
“If I don’t, ah, if I can’t handle it—”
“I won’t force you to watch. It’s just…there’s an unavoidable intimacy to it, and I think you and I will both be more comfortable if you were there. That way you know exactly what’s involved. There’s nothing hidden or shady about it.”
She nodded. “All right.”
He took a deep breath. “It’s a fact of life I can’t change.”
Mary ran her hand down his chest. “You know, even though it’s a little frightening, I wish it were me.”
“Oh, Mary, so do I.”
John checked his watch. Tohrment was coming for him in five minutes, so it was time to head downstairs. He grabbed his suitcase with both hands and headed for the door. He prayed he wouldn’t meet the pale man on the way or while he waited, but he wanted to meet Tohrment outside. It felt more equal, somehow.
When he got out to the curb, he looked up at the two windows he’d stared out of for so many hours. He was leaving the mattress and the barbell set behind, as well as his security deposit and last month’s rent for breaking his lease. He was going to have to pop back inside for his bike after Tohrment came, but other than that, he was free of the place.
He looked down the street, wondering which direction the man would come from. And what kind of car he drove. And where he lived. And who he was married to.
Shivering in the cold, John rechecked his watch. Nine o’clock on the dot.
A single light flared down to the right. He was pretty sure Tohrment wouldn’t use a motorcycle to pick him up. But the fantasy of roaring off into the night was a good one.
As the Harley growled by, he looked across the street at the Suicide Prevention Hotline’s offices. Mary had missed her Friday-and Saturday-night shifts as well, and he truly hoped she was just taking a vacation. As soon as he was settled, he would go see her again and make sure she was okay.
Except…wow, he had no clue where he was going. He was assuming he’d stay in the area, but who knew? Maybe he was going far away. Just imagine that, getting out of Caldwell. God, he’d like to make a fresh start. And he could always find a way to get to Mary, even if he had to take a bus.
Two more cars and a truck went by.
It had been so easy to pull out of his pathetic existence. No one at Moe’s cared that he was leaving without notice because busboys were a dime a dozen. And it went without saying that nobody in his building would miss him. Likewise, his address book was clean as a whistle, no friends, no family to call.
Actually, he didn’t even have an address book. And how lame was that?
John glanced down at himself, thinking how pitiful he must look. His sneakers were so dirty, the white parts had turned gray. His clothes were clean, but the jeans were two years old, and the button-down shirt, the best one he had, looked like a Goodwill reject. He didn’t even have a jacket because his parka had been stolen last week from Moe’s and he was going to have to save up before he could buy another one.
He wished he looked better.
Headlights swung quickly around the corner off Trade Street and then flashed upward, as if the car’s driver were stomping on the accelerator. Which was not good. In this neighborhood, anyone barrel-assing along was usually running from the cops or something worse.
John stepped behind a dented mailbox, trying to get real inconspicuous, but the black Range Rover skidded to a stop in front of him. Darkened windows. Serious chrome rims. And G-Unit was banging inside, the rap music thumping loud enough to be heard around the block.
John grabbed his suitcase and headed for his building. Even if he ran into the pale man, it would be safer inside the lobby than anywhere near the drug dealer who sported that Rover. He was hustling for the door when the music fell silent.
“You ready, son?”
John turned at the sound of Tohrment’s voice. The man was coming around the hood of the car, and in the shadows he was all menace, a hulking figure that sane folks ran from.
“Son? You good to go?”
As Tohrment stepped into the weak light of a streetlamp, John’s eyes latched onto the man’s face. God, he’d forgotten how frightening the guy looked with that military-cut hair and that hard jaw.
Maybe this was a bad idea, John thought. A choice made out of fear of one thing that only got him deeper into another kind of trouble. He didn’t even know where he was going. And kids like him could end up in the river after they got into a car like that. With a man like this.
As if he sensed John’s indecision, Tohrment leaned back against the Rover and crossed his feet at the ankles.
“I don’t want you to feel forced, son. But I’ll tell you, my shellan’s cooked up a good meal, and I’m hungry. Maybe you come, you eat with us, you see the house. You can check us out. And we can even leave your stuff here. How’s that sound?”
The voice was quiet, even. Nonthreatening. But would the guy really pull out the badass if he wanted to get John in the car?
A cell phone went off. Tohrment reached inside his leather jacket and flipped it open.
“Yeah. Hey, no, I’m right here with him.” A small smile broke the line of the man’s lips. “We’re thinking it over. Yeah, I’ll tell him. Uh-huh. Okay. I will. Yeah, I’ll do that, too. Wellsie, I…I know. Look, I didn’t mean to leave it out—I won’t do it again. I promise. No…Yes, I really…Uh-huh. I’m sorry, leelan.”
It was the wife, John thought. And she was giving this tough guy a tongue-lashing. And the man was taking it.
“Okay. I love you. Bye.” Tohrment flipped the phone closed and put it in his pocket. When he focused on John again, he clearly respected his wife enough not to roll his eyes and make some macho, shithead comment about pesky women. “Wellsie says she’s really looking forward to meeting you. She’s hoping you’ll stay with us.”
Well…okay, then.
Listening to his instincts, which told him Tohrment represented safety regardless of what he looked like, John humped his luggage over to the car.
“This all you have?”
John flushed and nodded.
“You got nothing to be embarrassed about, son,” Tohrment said softly. “Not when you’re with me.”
The man reached out and took the suitcase like it weighed nothing, swinging it casually into the backseat.
As Tohrment went to the driver’s side, John realized he’d forgotten the bike. He tapped on the Rover’s hood to get the man’s attention; then he pointed to the building and held up his index finger.
“You need a minute?”
John nodded and shot upstairs to his apartment. He had his bike, and was leaving the keys on the counter, when he paused and looked around. The reality of getting away from the studio made him recognize the squalor of the place. But still, it had been his for a short while, the best he could afford with what little he had. On impulse, he took a pen out of his back pocket, opened one of the flimsy cabinets, and wrote his name and the date on the wall inside.
Then he led his bike out into the hall, shut the door, and moved quickly down the stairwell.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Mary? Mary, wake up. She’s here.”
Mary felt her shoulder get nudged, and when she opened her eyes Rhage was staring do
wn at her. He’d changed into some kind of white outfit, long-sleeved with loose pants.
She sat up, trying to pull it together. “Can I have a minute?”
“Absolutely.”
She went into the bathroom and rinsed off her face. With cold water dripping from her chin, she stared at her reflection. Her lover was about to drink blood. In front of her.
And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. She felt inadequate because what was feeding him wasn’t hers.
Not about to get pulled into that mental tailspin, she picked up a towel and dried off with a good scrub. There was no time to change out of her blue jeans and sweater. And nothing else she really wanted to wear, at any rate.
As she came out, Rhage was taking off his watch.
“You want me to hold that?” she asked, remembering the last time she’d babysat the Rolex.
He walked over and pressed the heavy weight into her palm. “Kiss me.”
She got up on her tiptoes as he leaned down. Their mouths met for a moment.
“Come on.” He took her hand and led her out into the hall. When she looked confused, he said, “I don’t want to do it in our bedroom. That’s our space.”
He took her around the balcony to another guest room. When he opened the door, they went inside together.
Mary smelled roses first and then saw the woman in the corner. Her lush body was draped in a white wraparound gown, and her strawberry-blond hair was coiled up on her head. With the low, wide neckline of the dress and the chignon, her neck was as exposed as possible.
She smiled and bowed, speaking in that unfamiliar language.
“No,” Rhage said. “In English. We do this in English.”
“Of course, warrior.” The woman’s voice was high and pure, like a songbird’s call. Her eyes, pale green and lovely, lingered on Rhage’s face. “I am pleased to serve you.”
Mary shifted, trying to quell the urge to defend her turf. Serve him?
“What is your name, Chosen?” Rhage asked.