by J. R. Ward
"It's perfect."
Personally, he thought he was in the flipping tropics. And the temperature jacked higher as he approached the bed and sat on the opposite side from her.
"Listen, Mary, in about an hour, at four forty-five, you're going to hear the shutters closing for the day. They slide down on tracks over the windows. It's not that loud, but I don't want you to be startled."
"Thanks."
Rhage lay down on top of the comforter and crossed his feet at the ankles. Everything irritated him, the hot room, the PJs, the robe. Now he knew what presents felt like, all trussed up in paper and ribbons: itchy.
"Do you normally wear all that to bed?" she asked.
"Absolutely."
"Then why's the tag still on that robe?"
"In case I want another, I'll know what it is."
He turned on his side, away from her. Rolled back over so he stared at the ceiling again. A minute later, he tried his stomach.
"Rhage." Her voice was lovely in the dim quiet.
"What?"
"You sleep in the nude, right?"
"Ah, usually."
"Look, you can lose the clothes. It's not going to bother me."
"I didn't want you to feel… uncomfortable."
"What's making me uncomfortable is you flopping around on that side of the bed. I feel like a tossed salad over here."
He would have chuckled at her reasonable tone, but the hot pump between his legs sucked the humor right out of him.
Ah, hell, if he thought the getup he had on was going to keep him in check, he was out of his mind. He wanted her so badly that short of chain mail, what he was or was not wearing wasn't going to make a lick of difference.
Keeping his back to her, he stood up and stripped. With some finessing, he managed to get himself under the covers without flashing her a glimpse of what the front of him was up to. That monstrous arousal was nothing she needed to know about.
He faced away from her, lying on his side.
"Can I touch it?" she asked.
His erection jerked, as if volunteering to be the "it." "Touch what?"
"The tattoo. I'd like to… touch it."
God, she was so close to him, and that voice of hers—that sweet, beautiful voice—was magic. But the hum in his body made him feel like he had a paint mixer in his belly.
When he stayed quiet, she murmured, "Never mind. I don't—"
"No. It's just…" Shit. He hated the distance in her tone. "Mary, it's okay. Do whatever you like."
He heard sheets brushing against sheets. Felt the mattress move a little. And then her fingertips brushed his shoulder. He kept his flinch to himself as best he could.
"Where did you get it done?" she whispered, tracing the curse's outline. "The artwork is extraordinary."
His whole body tensed as he felt precisely where she was on the beast. She was going across its left foreleg now, and he knew it because he felt the corresponding tingle in his own limb.
Rhage closed his eyes, getting trapped between the pleasure of having her hand on him and the reality that he was flirting with disaster. The vibration, the burning—it was all rising, called out of darkest, most destructive core of him.
He inhaled through his teeth as she stroked the beast's flank.
"Your skin is so smooth," she said, running her palm down his spine.
Frozen in place, unable to breathe, he prayed for self-control.
"And… well, anyway." She pulled back. "I think it's beautiful."
He was on top of her before he knew he'd moved. And he wasn't a gentleman. He pushed his thigh between her legs, pinned her arms over her head, and found her mouth with his own. As she arched into him, he grabbed hold of her nightgown and yanked up hard. He was going to take her. At this very moment and in his bed, just as he'd wanted to.
And she was going to be perfect.
Her thighs yielded to him, opening wide, and she urged him on, his name a hoarse moan leaving her lips. The sound lit off a violent shaking in him, one that dimmed his vision and sent pulses down his arms and legs. The taking of her consumed him, stripped him of whatever civilized lid there was on his instincts. He was raw, wild and…
On the verge of the scorching implosion that was the curse's calling card.
Terror gave him the strength he needed to leap off her and stumble across the room. He slammed into something. The wall.
"Rhage!"
Sinking down onto the floor, he put his trembling hands over his face, knowing his eyes were white. His body shook so badly his words came out in waves. "I'm out of my mind… This is… Shit, I can't… I need to stay away from you."
"Why? I don't want you to stop—"
He talked right over her. "I'm starved for you, Mary. I'm so damn… hungry, but I can't have you. I won't take… you."
"Rhage," she snapped, as if trying to get through to him. "Why not?"
"You don't want me. Trust me, you really don't want me like that."
"The hell I don't."
He wasn't about to tell her he was a beast waiting to happen. So he chose to disgust her rather than scare her. "I've had eight different females this week alone."
There was a long pause. "Good… God."
"I don't want to lie to you. Ever. So let me be very clear. I've had a lot of anonymous sex. I've been with so many females, none of whom I've cared about. And I don't want you to ever think I'd use you like that."
Now that his pupils felt as though they were black again, he looked over at her.
"Tell me you practice safe sex," she muttered.
"When the females ask me to, I do."
Her eyes flared. "And when they don't?"
"I could no more get the common cold from one of them than I could HIV or hep C or any STD. And I'm not a carrier of those diseases, either. Human viruses don't affect us."
She pulled the sheets up around her shoulders. "How do you know you're not getting them pregnant? Or can't humans and vampires…"
"Half-breeds are rare, but it does happen. And it's obvious to me when the females are fertile. I can smell it. If they are, or are close, I don't have sex with them, even using protection. My children, when I have them, will be born in safety in my world. And I will love their mother."
Mary's eyes skipped away, becoming fixed, haunted. He looked up to see what she was staring at. It was the Madonna and Child painting over the dresser.
"I'm glad you told me," she finally said. "But why does it have to be with strangers? Why can you be with someone you… Actually, don't answer that. It's none of my business."
"I'd rather be with you, Mary. Not being inside of you is… torture. I want you so badly I can't stand it." He blew out his breath. "But can you honestly tell me that you want me now? Although… hell, even if you did, there's still something else. The way you go to my head, it's like I told you before. I'm scared of losing control. You affect me differently than other females do."
There was another long silence. She broke it.
"Tell me again that you're miserable we're not sleeping together," she said dryly.
"I am utterly miserable. Achy. Hard all the time. Distracted and pissed off."
"Good." She laughed a little. "Boy, I'm a bitch, aren't I?"
"Not at all."
The room grew quiet. Eventually he lay down and curled onto his side, resting his head on his arm.
She sighed. "I don't expect you to sleep on the floor now."
"It's better this way."
"For chrissakes, Rhage, get up here."
His voice dropped to a low growl. "If I come back to that bed, there's no way I'm not going for that sweet spot between your legs. And it wouldn't be just my hands and my tongue this time. It would be right back to where we were. My body on top of yours, every thick inch of me desperate to get into you."
As he caught the luscious scent of her arousal, the air between them surged with sex. And inside his body, he turned back into a live wire.
"Mary, I'd be
tter go. I'll come back after you're asleep."
He left before she could utter another word. As the door shut behind him, he sagged against the wall in the corridor. Being out of the room helped. It was harder to catch her scent that way.
He heard a laugh and looked over to see Phury sauntering down the corridor.
"You look strung out, Hollywood. As well as really goddamned naked."
Rhage covered himself with his hands. "I don't know how you can take it."
The brother stopped, swirling the mug of hot cider he carried. "Take what?"
"The celibacy."
"Don't tell me your female won't have you?"
"That's not the problem."
"So why you out in this hall standing at full attention?"
"I, ah, don't want to hurt her."
Phury looked taken aback. "You're a big one, but you've never injured a female. At least not that I've known."
"No, it's just… I want her so badly, I'm… I'm juiced, man."
Phury's yellow eyes narrowed. "You talking about your beast?"
Rhage looked away. "Yeah."
The whistle that came out of the brother was grim. "Well… hell, you'd better take care of yourself. You want to pay her respect, that's fine. But you keep yourself on the level or you're really going to hurt her, you feel me? Find a fight, find some other females if you have to, but you make sure you're calm. And if you need some red smoke, you come to me. I'll give you some of my O-Zs, no problem."
Rhage took a deep breath. "I'll pass on the smokes right now. But can I borrow some sweats and a pair of Nikes? I'm going to try to run myself into exhaustion."
Phury clapped him on the back. "Come on, my brother. I'm more than happy to cover your ass."
CHAPTER 25
As the afternoon's light waned through the forest, O backed the Toro up, avoiding the pile of earth he'd created with it.
"You ready for the pipes?" U yelled out.
"Yeah. Drop one down. Let's see how it fits."
A composite-metal corrugated sewer pipe about three feet in diameter and seven feet long was lowered into the hole so it stood on its end. The thing fit perfectly.
"Let's get the other two in there," O said.
Twenty minutes later the three pipe sections were lined up. Using the Dingo, O pushed the dirt in while two other lessers held the pipes in place.
"Looking good," U said, walking around. "Looking damn good. But how do we get the civilians in and out?"
"Harness system." O shut off the Dingo and went over to peer inside one of the pipes. "You can buy them for rock climbing at Dick's Sporting Goods. We're strong enough to lift the civilians even if they're deadweight, and they'll be drugged, in pain, or exhausted, so they won't fight much."
"This was a great idea," U murmured. "But how do we cap them?"
"The lids will be metal mesh with a weight on the center."
O glanced up, seeing blue sky. "How long do you think until the roof's on?"
"We'll get the last wall up right now. Then all we have to do is erect the rafters and drop in the skylights. The shingling won't take long, and the clapboards are already on the three walls we have now. I'll move the tools in here, get a table, and we're rolling tomorrow night."
"We'll have the shades for the skylights by then?"
"Yeah. And they're retractable so you'll be able to open and lower them."
Man, those things were going to be handy. A little sunlight was the best maid a lesser could have. She comes in, flashes through the space, and presto! no more vampire debris.
O nodded to his truck. "I'll take the Toro back to the rental place. You need anything from town?"
"Nope. We're good."
On the way into Caldwell, with the piece of machinery in the bed of the F-150, O should have been in a good mood. The building was going well. His squadron was accepting his leadership. Mr. X hadn't brought up the Betas again. But instead he just felt… dead. And wasn't that ironic as hell for someone who hadn't been alive for three years?
He'd been like this once before.
Back in Sioux City, before he'd become a lesser, he'd hated his life. He'd squeaked through high school, and there'd been no money to send him to even a community college, so his career options had been limited. Working as a bouncer had called into service his size and mean streak, but it was only moderately amusing: The drunks didn't tend to fight back, and coldcocking the unconscious was no more engaging than beating a cow.
The only good thing had been meeting Jennifer. She'd saved him from the mindless tedium, and he'd loved her for it. She was drama, excitement, and unpredictability in the flat landscape of life. And whenever he'd go into one of his rages, she'd hit him right back, even though she was smaller and bled easier than he did. He'd never figured out whether she threw her punches because she was too dumb to know he'd always win in the end or if it was because she was so used to being beaten by her father. Either way, stupidity or habit, he took everything she could give him and then pounded her into the ground. Tending to her afterward, when his fire was out, had given him the most tender moments of his life.
But like all good things, she had come to an end. God, he missed her. She'd been the only one who understood how love and hate beat side by side in the chambers of his heart, the only one who could handle both at the same time. Thinking of her long, dark hair and her lean body, he missed her so much he could almost feel her beside him.
As he came into Caldwell proper, he thought of the prostitute he'd bought the other morning. She'd ended up giving him what he'd needed after all, though she'd had to trade her life to do it. And while he drove along now, he scanned the sidewalks, looking for another release. Unfortunately, brunettes were harder to come by than blondes in the skin trade. Maybe he could buy a wig and tell the whores to put it on.
O thought about the number of people he'd taken out. The first person he'd killed had been in self-defense. The second had been a mistake. The third had been in cold blood. So by the time he'd come to the East Coast, running from the law, he'd known a little about death.
Back then, with Jennifer just gone, the pain in his chest had been a living thing, a mad dog that needed to stretch its legs before it destroyed him. Falling into the Society had been a miracle. It had saved him from tortured rootlessness, giving him a focus and a purpose and an outlet for the agony.
But now, somehow, all those benefits were gone and he felt empty. Just as he had five years ago in Sioux City, right before he'd run into Jennifer.
Well, almost the same, he thought, pulling up to the rental place.
Back then, he'd still been alive.
"Are you out of the tub?"
Mary laughed, put the phone to her other ear, and burrowed deeper into the pillows. It was sometime after four o'clock.
"Yes, Rhage."
She couldn't remember when she'd had a more luxurious day. Sleeping in. Food delivered with books and magazines. The Jacuzzi.
It was like being at a spa. Well, a spa where the phone rang all the time. She wouldn't count how many times he'd called her.
"Did Fritz bring you what I asked?"
"How did he find fresh strawberries like that in October?"
"We have our ways."
"And the flowers are beautiful." She eyed the bouquet full of roses and foxglove and delphinium and tulips. Spring and summer in a crystal vase. "Thank you."
"I'm glad you like them. I wish I could have gone out and chosen them myself. I would have enjoyed finding you only the most perfect ones. I wanted them to be bright and smell good."
"Mission accomplished."
Male voices sounded in the background. Rhage's voice dimmed. "Hey, cop, mind if I use your bedroom? I need some privacy."
The response was muffled and then she heard a door shut.
"Hi," Rhage said in a husky drawl. "Are you in bed?"
Her body stirred, heating up. "Yes."
"I miss you."
She opened her mouth. Nothing c
ame out.
"You still there, Mary?" When she sighed, he said, "That doesn't sound good. Am I getting too real for you?"
I've had eight different females this week alone.
Oh, God. She did not want to fall for him. Just could not let herself.
"Mary?"
"Just don't… say things like that to me."
"It's how I feel."
She didn't respond. What could she say? That she felt the same way? That she missed him even though she'd talked to him once every hour throughout the day? It was true, but not something she was happy about. He was too damned beautiful… and hell, he could put Wilt Chamberlain in the shade when it came to a list of lovers. So even if she were perfectly healthy, he was a recipe for disaster. Add to the situation what she was facing healthwise?
Getting emotionally attached to him was downright absurd.
As the silence stretched between them, he cursed. "We have a lot of business to take care of tonight. I don't know when I'll be back, but you know where to find me if you need me."
As the phone connection was cut off, she felt just awful. And she knew the lectures about keeping distant were not really working.
CHAPTER 26
Rhage stomped his shitkicker into the ground and looked around the forest. Nothing. No sounds or smells of lessers. No evidence anyone had been through this quiet woodland spot for years. It had been the same for the other plots of land they'd visited.
"What the hell are we doing out here?" he muttered.
He knew the damn answer. Tohr had run across a lesser the night before on an isolated stretch of Route 22. The slayer had taken off into the forest on a dirtbike, but had lost a handy little piece of paper in the process: a list of large land parcels that were for sale on Caldwell's fringes.
Today, Butch and V had performed a search on all properties sold in the last twelve months in the city and surrounding burgs. About fifty sales of rural stretches of land had popped up. Rhage and V had visited five of them so far, and the twins were doing the same, covering others. Meanwhile, Butch was at the Pit, compiling the field reports, making a map, and looking for a pattern. It was going to take a couple of nights to get through all of the parcels, because patrols still had to be performed. And Mary's house had to be monitored.