Lover Reborn (Black Dagger Brotherhood #10)

Lover Reborn (Black Dagger Brotherhood #10) Page 39

Back at the Brotherhood mansion, No'One sat upon the bed she shared with Tohrment, her robe lying on the duvet next to her, her shift covering her flesh.

Silent. So silent this room was without him.

Wherever was he?

When she had returned herein following her work down in the training center, she had expected to find him waiting upon her, warm and mayhap asleep upon the duvet. Instead, the covers were all arranged, the pillows ordered at the headboard, the extra comforter, the one he used to warm himself, still folded neatly at the foot of the mattress.

He had not been in the weight room, the pool, or the gym. Nor had he been in the kitchen when she had stopped briefly to gather a refreshment for herself. Or the billiards room or library.

And he had not appeared for First Meal, either.

The knob turned and she jumped - only to release a deep, easing exhale. Her blood in the warrior's body announced his arrival even before his scent came upon her nose or his body filled the jambs.

He still didn't have a shirt on. Or boots upon his feet.

And his stare was dark and desolate as the corridors of Dhund.

"Where have you been," she whispered.

He ducked both her eyes and the question by going into the bathroom. "I'm late. Wrath's called a meeting."

As the shower came on, she gathered her robe and drew it over her shoulders, knowing that he was uncomfortable with her in any manner of undress out of bed. But that wasn't the cause of his mood; he'd been as such afore he'd even looked her way.

His beloved, she thought. It had to have something to do with his beloved.

And she should probably leave him be.

But she did not.

When he came out, he had a towel wrapped around his hips, and he went directly to the closet without sparing her a glance. Propping a palm on the doorjamb, he opened up and leaned in, the name upon his shoulders spotlit under the ceiling fixture above him.

Except he didn't take any clothing out. He hung his head and fell still.

"I went home today," he said abruptly.

"Today? As in... during the daylight hours?"

"Fritz took me."

Her heart beat hard at the thought of him exposed to sunshine -  Wait, hadn't they lived together here?

"We had our own place," he said. "We didn't stay here with everyone else."

So this was not his mated room. Or his mated bed.

When he didn't say anything further, she prompted, "What did you... find there?"

"Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing."

"It had been emptied of your things?"

"No, I left it all exactly as it was the night she died. Down to the dishes that are clean in the dishwasher, the mail on the counter, the mascara she left out right before she took off for the last time."

Oh, the agony for him, she thought.

"I went there looking for her, and all I got was an exhibition of the past."

"But you are never far from her - your Wellesandra is ever with you. She breathes in your heart."

Tohrment pivoted around, his eyes hooded, intense. "Not like she used to."

Abruptly, she straightened under his gaze. Fiddled with the edge of her robe. Crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. "Why are you looking at me like that."

"I want to fuck you. That's why I went back home."

As No'One's face registered high-octane shock, Tohr didn't bother to temper the truth with pretty words or apologies or any kind of fanfare. He was just too done with everything: fighting his body, arguing with destiny, wrestling with an inevitability that he had been refusing to yield to for too long.

Standing in front of her, he was naked in a way that had nothing to do with a lack of clothes. Naked and tired... and hungry for her -

"Then you may have me," she said in a soft voice.

As her words sank in, he felt himself pale. "Do you understand what I said?"

"You were blunt enough."

"You're supposed to tell me to go to hell."

There was a short pause. "Well, we do not have to proceed."

No rancor. No begging. No disappointment - it was all about him and where he was at.

How could she be so... kind? he wondered.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, feeling like he wanted to return the favor.

"You won't. I know you are still in love with your mate, and I do not blame you. What you had with her is a once-in-a-lifetime love."

"What about you?"

"I have no need or desire to take her place. And I accept you just as you are, in any fashion you choose to come to me. Or not, if that is the way it must be."

Tohr cursed as a part of his pain unexpectedly eased. "That isn't fair to you."

"Yes, it is. I am happy to simply have time with you. That is enough - and more than I could ever have expected out of my fate. These past few months have been a complicated joy that I wouldn't have traded anything for. If it must end, then at least I've had what I did. And if it goes further then I am luckier than I deserve. And... if it puts you in some small way at peace then I have served my only purpose."

As she fell silent, that quiet dignity of hers slayed him, it truly did. And it was with a sense of utter unreality that he walked over to her, bent down and took her face into his palms.

Rubbing her cheek with his thumb, he stared into her eyes. "You are..." His voice broke. "You are such a female of worth."

No'One put her hands up to his thick wrists, her touch soft and light. "Listen to my words and believe them. Do not worry about me. Take care of your heart and your soul first - that is what matters most."

Kneeling in front of her, he worked his way in between her legs, filling the space he created with his body. As always with her, he felt both awkward and at ease being so close.

With his eyes, he traced her face, that beautiful, kind face. And then he zeroed in on her lips.

Moving slowly, he leaned in, not really sure what the hell he was doing. He had never kissed her. Not once. For all he knew about her body, he knew nothing of her mouth, and as her eyes flared, it was obvious she had never expected the intimacy.

Tilting his head to the side, he shut his lids... and closed the distance until he met a whole lot of velvet.

Softly, chastely, he pressed in and pulled back.

Not enough.

Dipping down again, he lingered at her mouth, brushing, plying. Then he abruptly broke off the contact and shoved himself to his feet. If he didn't stop now, he wouldn't at all, and he was already running late for Wrath and his brothers. Besides, this wasn't about a quick sex session.

It was more important than that.

"I have to get dressed," he told her. "I have to go."

"And I shall be here when you return. If you want me to be."

"I do."

Turning away, he wasted no time in throwing his clothes on or gathering his weapons, and as soon as he nabbed his leather jacket, he had every intention of going right out the door. Instead, he stopped and looked at her. She had her fingertips up to her lips, her eyes wide and full of wonder... as if she had never felt anything even close to what she just had.

He went back to the bed. "Was that your first kiss?"

She blushed in the most lovely pink, her eyes dropping shyly to the carpet. "Yes."

For a moment, all he could do was shake his head at everything she had been through.

Then he leaned down. "You gonna let me give you another?"

"Yes, please..." she breathed.

He kissed her longer this time, lingering on her lower lip, even clipping it gently with one of his fangs. At the contact, heat exploded between them, especially as he pulled her up against his body, holding her harder than he should given how many weapons were hanging off his torso.

Before he took her standing up, he forced himself to put her back on the bed. "Thank you," he whispered.

"What ever for?"

All he could do was shrug because so much of his gratitude was too complicated to give voice to. "I guess for not trying to change me."

"Never," she said. "Now be safe."

"I will."

Out in the hall, he closed the door quietly and took a deep breath....

"You all right, my brother?"

He shook himself and glanced over at Z. The male was likewise dressed for fighting, but he was coming down the hall from the opposite direction of his suite.

"Ah, yeah, sure. Yourself?"

"I was sent to get you."

Right. Got it. And he was glad it was Z. Undoubtedly the guy was well aware of his fucked-up mood, but unlike some of the others - *cough*Rhage*cough* - he would never pry.

Together, they walked down the hall and entered the king's study, arriving just as V said, "I don't like this. The one vampire who's fucked us off for months suddenly calls from out of the blue and says he's ready to see you?"

Assail, Tohr thought, while he settled against the bookshelves.

As his brothers muttered different variations on the not-so-hot theme, he put his game head on and agreed completely. Too much of a coincidence -

From behind the great desk, Wrath's expression went stone-cold, and just the look on that face quieted the room: He was going, with or without the rest of them.

"Fucking hell," Rhage bitched. "You can't be serious."

Cursing under his breath, Tohr figured he might as well cut past the argument stage: given the thrust of Wrath's jaw, the brothers were going to lose in any contest of will. "You are wearing a Kevlar vest," he told the king.

Wrath bared his fangs. "When have I not."

"Just needed to be clear on that. What time do you want to leave?"

"Now."

Vishous lit up a hand-rolled and blew out smoke. "Fucking hell is right."

Wrath stood up, grasped George's halter, and came around from the throne. "I want just a regular squadron of four. We go there with too many guns and it's going to look like we're nervous. Tohr, V, John, and Qhuinn are going to be on first string."

Made sense. Rhage with his beast was too much of a wild card. Z and Phury were technically off rotation tonight. Butch needed to be on standby with the Escalade. And Rehv wasn't in the room, which meant his day job of being king of the symphaths had taken him up north again.

Oh, and Payne? Given what she looked like, she was liable to fritz Assail's circuits out, rendering him too stupid to speak. Like her twin, she tended to make a big impression on the opposite sex.

Everyone would just be a text away, however, and Wrath was right: They brought the whole fan-damn-ily and that was going to send the wrong message.

As everybody filed out and hit the grand staircase, there were all kinds of under-the-breath grousing, and at the bottom, weapons were rechecked and holsters tightened an extra notch.

Tohr glanced across at John. Qhuinn was on the kid's ass tighter than a pair of pants, and that was a good thing as it was obvious that all was still not well in John's world: he smelled like his bonding scent, but looked like death.

The king bent down and talked to George for a moment. Then he grabbed his queen and kissed her like he meant it. "I'll be home before you know it, leelan."

While Wrath walked through the crowd and disappeared into the courtyard without aid, Tohr went over to Beth, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "You don't worry about a thing. I'm gonna bring him back as soon as it's over - in one piece."

"Thank you - God, thank you." She put her arms around him and hugged him hard. "I know he's safe with you."

As she sank to her haunches to comfort the anxious retriever, Tohr headed for the door, slowing down as he joined the traffic jam of brothers at the vestibule. Waiting to file through, he glanced up at the second-floor balcony. No'One was at the head of the stairs, standing by herself, that hood of hers down.

The braid needed to go, he thought to himself. Hair as beautiful as hers was meant to catch the light and shine.

He lifted his hand in a wave, and after she echoed the good-bye, he ducked out and emerged into the cold night.

Standing close, but not too close to John, he waited for Wrath to give the nod, and then he dematerialized with the king and the boys to a peninsula on the Hudson just north of Xhex's cabin.

As Tohr re-formed in the midst of a thin beard of forest, the air was bracingly cold and smelled of fallen leaves and the wet rocks of the shoreline.

Up ahead, Assail's contemporary mansion was a true showpiece, even from this rear view by the garages. The palatial structure had two main floors, with a porch that went all the way around, everything angled and windowed to provide as much of a view of the water as possible.

Dumb-ass place for a vampire to live. All that glass in the daylight?

Then again, what could you expect from a member of the glymera.

The house had been prescreened, as each of the other locations for the meetings had been, so they were familiar with the layout on the exterior - and V had broken in and surveyed the inside as well. Report: Nothing much in there, and clearly that hadn't changed. In the lights that glowed from the ceilings, there was a whole lot of nothing much in the furniture department.

It was as if Assail lived in a display case featuring himself.

And yet apparently the guy had done a few smart things. According to V, all those glass panels were threaded with fine steel wires, in the manner of a car window defroster system, so there was no dematerializing in or out. He'd also cleared the lawn that circled the place so that if anything or anybody approached, they'd be sitting ducks.

On that note, Tohr let his instincts and senses roam... and had a grand total of nada hit his radar screen. Nothing moved that wasn't supposed to: just tree limbs and leaves in the breeze, a deer about three hundred yards away, his brother and the boys behind him.

At least until a car came down the narrow, paved driveway.

Jaguar, Tohr guessed by the engine sound.

Yup, he was right. Black XKR. With blacked-out side windows.

The long-nosed convertible went by, stopped at the garage door nearest to the mansion, and then eased inside as the panels rose. Assail, or whoever it was behind the wheel, did not can the engine or get out of the car right away. He waited for the door to drop back into place behind him, and as it did, Tohr noticed there were no windowpanes in the thing. The shit was also a shade ever so slightly off from the trim on the rest of the house. Same with the other five bays.

He'd added those doors since he'd moved in, Tohr thought.

Maybe the SOB wasn't a total moron.

"Okay, I'll head over to the front door." V's diamond eyes flashed. "I'll give you a signal... or you'll hear that lightweight scream like a girl. Either way, you know what to do."

Annnnnd off he went, dematerializing around the corner of the house. It would be better to have eyes on him, but Wrath was the most important part of this, and the tree line in the back was the only cover there was to be had.

As they waited, Tohr got his gun out, and so did John Matthew and Qhuinn. The king was dripping with forties, but his matched sets stayed put. Way too defensive to have him with a gat in his hand.

But your personal guard? Part of the cocksucking job description.

Keeping sharp, he wished, yet again, that they could leave the king at home for the pregame process, but Wrath had flat-out no'd that idea months ago. Too galling, no doubt, given that, unlike his father, he'd been a fighter before he'd taken the throne - it was just, fucking hell, moments like this made you want to peel your own face off.

Tohr's cell phone went off three tense minutes later: Kitchen door by the garage.

"He wants us at the back entrance," Tohr said, putting the thing away. "Wrath, that's fifty yards straight ahead."

"Roger that."

The four of them dematerialized and reappeared on the rear stoop in a flanking formation that provided as much protection to Wrath as possible: Tohr was right in front of the king, John to his right, Qhuinn to his left. V immediately assumed the rear.

And right on cue, Assail opened the door.