The Beast

by J. R. Ward

  Not luxurious, but certainly civilized.

  Nothing that was kitted out for torture.

  Yet.

  Good thing his love life provided him with ready access to all sorts of straps, buckles, chains, and spikes. And yeah, he was probably going to need some of his larger equipment, too.

  "I'll take care of it," he said.

  "What? Xcor?"

  "Yeah. I got this."

  Tohr cursed softly like he was jel. But then the brother shrugged. "That's a good thing. He's dangerous--it's like having a serial killer in the house. We're going to want some seriously strong locks."

  Dead bolts weren't going to be the half of it, V thought. Not even close.

  THIRTEEN

  When Mary woke up, she hadn't a clue what time it was. Lifting her head off Rhage's bare pectoral, she looked around and was surprised to find that both of them had fallen asleep with the recovery room's overhead lights on.

  Shoot, she hadn't replugged all the machines. After Rhage's little orgasmic interlude, he'd refused to stop holding her, and she must have passed out against his warm, muscled body. Clearly, Ehlena had figured things out, though--the monitors themselves had been removed. And yes, her hellren was still very much alive, his chest rising and falling evenly, that wonderful ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump of his heart a true testament to his health.

  Closing her eyes, she winced as she thought back to the bullet wound, the blood he had been coughing up, that horrible--

  "Hey, beautiful one."

  As he spoke, she jerked her head up. His half-lidded, blue, blue eyes were so arresting, she wanted to stare into them forever.

  "Hi," she whispered.

  Moving her hand over, she stroked his cheek, feeling the growth of his blond beard. "You need a shave."

  "Do I?"

  "It's sexy, actually."

  "Then I'm throwing out all my razors. Quick, help me to our bathroom so I can do it now."

  She chuckled, then got serious. "How's your eyesight?"

  "What eyesight."

  "Still blind?"

  He made a hrrumph sound. "Like it matters? You're here and I can hear you just fine. I can feel you, too." Rhage's big, broad palm rubbed her shoulder. "Hey, I have an idea. Let's go up to our rooms, and after we cancel my subscription to the Dollar Shave Club, we can hit the Jacuzzi. After a bath and a half, we can get in bed and see what comes up. I owe you at least one good ride, remember--and then there's the vig. Ohhhh, that vig--I have a lot to make up for."

  Mary laughed a little.

  "What," he said with a frown. "What's wrong?"

  Pushing herself up from him, she cracked her back on a stretch. Shoved her hair away from her face. Pulled the collar of her shirt into place so it wasn't choking her.

  "That bad, huh."

  With a grunt of pain, he grabbed for the control buttons, and made the mattress angle higher so he could sit up more properly.

  "Talk to me."

  As she moved down to the foot of the bed and tried to find the words, Rhage recoiled. "Whoa. Are you--why are you crying?"

  "Jeez, am I?" A quick pass of her palms across her cheeks and she found wetness. "Wow. Yeah, sorry about that."

  "What's going on? Do I need to kill something for you?"

  It was the bonded male's first response to anything that upset their shellan, and before she could help herself, she whispered, "The death's already happened, actually."

  "Huh?"

  For some reason, she thought back to that night, over two years ago, when Rhage, V and Butch had gone and killed a murderous hellren so that Bitty and Annalye could live.

  "Bitty's mom died last night."

  "Ohhhh, shit." Rhage sat all the way forward on his own, like he was half a mind to jump out of bed even though there was nowhere to go, no attack to defend her from. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

  "You were kinda busy dying at the time--"

  "You should have told me. Jesus, I made you jerk me off--"

  "Stop it. I loved that. We needed that."

  As his handsome face grew unbearably tight, and he crossed his arms over his chest like he was pissed at himself, she arched up and kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "Caring about her, too."

  "How can I not. What can I do to help?"

  Mary sat back and blurted, "I've missed you."

  Rhage patted the air between them like he was looking to touch her and she put her face into his hands, letting him feel her cheeks and her jaw, the sides of her throat.

  "I've missed you, too," he said in a low tone. "We've been . . . kind of parallel lately. Not apart, but parallel."

  "I'm sorry. I know. I've been wrapped up in everything at Safe Place and that really isn't fair--"

  "Stop it. You don't ever need to apologize to me for loving your job or wanting to be all-in on what you do. I'm the last person who'll ever not get that. You're amazing there, an incredible person who helps everybody--"

  Mary dropped her eyes, even though technically there was no stare for her to evade. "Not always. God, not always."

  "Tell me. Mary, I don't mean to be demanding . . . but you really gotta talk to me."

  As she remembered everything that had happened, her eyes teared up again. "I, ah . . . I got the call at my desk that things weren't going well with Annalye and I took Bitty out to Havers's. I really thought . . . well, when my mom passed, I was with her, and that was important to me--especially later, you know? I mean, when I think of her, and I miss her . . . there's a certain solace that comes with knowing that she wasn't alone when she died. That . . . that she had been with me at the start of my life, and I had been with her at the end of hers." Mary took a shuddering breath. "I mean, Bitty's young . . . there are so many years ahead for her to grapple with it all, you know? And what's been important to me as an adult, kind of seemed like something that would be important to her later. Anyway . . . I didn't mean for it to happen."

  "What did?"

  Mary covered her face with her palms as the memory sliced through her consciousness like a knife. "When Bitty . . . oh, God, when Bitty took her mom's hand, the female died right then and there. Bitty thought she was responsible. It was . . . awful. Not at all what I wanted for either one of them."

  I killed her! I killed her!

  "Maybe her mahmen was waiting for her."

  Mary wiped her eyes and dropped her arms in defeat. "That's what I tell myself. Not that it really helps--"

  "Mary, when I was shot on that field and dying, I was waiting for you to come to me. It was the only thing I held on to. When you love someone and you're leaving, you wait for your person to come--and it takes a lot of energy, a lot of focus. I'm telling you, Mary, I was waiting for you because I wanted to make my peace with you, but I couldn't hold on for much longer--and although we lucked out and you saved my life, the reality was that I prolonged my suffering just to have that moment with you."

  "Oh, God, seriously . . . seeing you suffering like that--it was one of the worst moments of my life--"

  As if he were determined to keep her on track, Rhage talked over her. "You need to tell Bitty that, okay? Tell her that her mother died at that moment because Bitty's voice was what she needed to hear before she went to the Fade. She needed to know that her daughter was all right before she left--and I guarantee you, Mary, if you said one word in that room, Annalye knew that you were there with her young, too. And that meant Bitty was going to be safe. Annalye left because she knew it was okay to go."

  "I never thought of it that way," Mary murmured. "You have such a good way of putting it. I wish you could say that to her."

  "Maybe I can someday. Hell, name the date and time and I'm there."

  As Rhage stared across at her, he seemed focused on her even though he couldn't see--and actually, Mary was very sure, in this moment, that nothing else in the world existed for him but her and her problems. Add onto that his ridiculous masculine beauty and that sex dri
ve and the big heart?

  "How on earth did I ever get to end up with you?" she whispered. "I won the lottery."

  Her hellren reached for her and brought her in close again, tucking her under his chin. "Oh, no, Mary. It's the other way around. Trust me."

  *

  As Rhage felt the tension in his shellan's body ease, he rubbed her back in slow circles . . . and felt like throwing up.

  Not because of the whole beast thing.

  "So I know we're still twelve hours away from nightfall," she said, "but I'd like to go into work this evening? Just a little while though, and only if you're--"

  "Oh, God, yeah. Bitty needs you." Wonder if there were any Alka Seltzers left? "I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  Nope. Not at all. "Hell, yeah--I've done this recovery thing how many times? I'm just going to hang down here and sleep it off." Because if he wasn't conscious, he wasn't going to feel like this, right? "And actually, on second thought, you don't need me to tell Bitty anything. You have even better ways of putting things."

  "I used to believe that."

  "No." He looked down at where the sound of her voice was coming from and took one of her hands in his with urgency. "Mary, you can't second-guess yourself. Listen, you go to war in your own way, and the worst thing a soldier can do is have his confidence fried before he hits the field. Not everything is going to end up in victory, but you've got to start it all off, every time, knowing that your training and your instincts are sound. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't hurt Bitty on purpose. You certainly are not responsible for her mahmen choosing that moment to go unto the Fade--and in fact, there's a lot of evidence to suggest the female left because she felt like her young was in good hands. You need to believe all of that--otherwise, you're going to get stuck in a neutral that isn't going to help anybody."

  "Lord, you are always so right."

  Meh. Not even close. But like he was going to bring all his wrongs up now, when she had real problems to deal with, with that little girl? He was a selfish prick, but he wasn't that much of a douche bag.

  Fucking hell, he couldn't believe he'd put his shellan through what he had . . . he couldn't live with himself knowing that he'd made Mary essentially watch him fucking die last night--and all for no good fucking reason.

  All because he hadn't listened to Vishous.

  Actually, no, he thought. It was even worse than that. In fact, he had heard every word the brother had said and had gone out to fight anyway, fully aware of what was waiting for him on the field of combat if the guy was right.

  Guess that was the definition of suicidal, wasn't it.

  Which meant that he was . . .

  Oh, fuck.

  As Rhage's head began to implode with a reality that was only now dawning on him, Mary continued talking in a slow, considered way about what she was going to do for the little girl, what staff consults she needed to have, and then there was something about an uncle somewhere . . . and Rhage just let the conversation of hers go on its one-sided way.

  In all truth, he was infinitely grateful she felt better and more connected to him. That shit mattered. Unfortunately, he was back to being far away from her again, the inside part of him floating off even as his body stayed where it was.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He had everything he wanted in life--and she was in his arms at this very moment. He'd had a death scare and come through it. There was so much to live for, fight for, love for.

  So why would he do something like that? Why would he run out into an all-but-guaranteed casket? And why was the distance from her back?

  Well, there was one explanation. Something that tied everything up with a big, fat, psychotic bow.

  He'd often wondered whether he was crazy. Like, intrinsically so.

  His emotions had always been so extreme, jumping from mania to anger, that he'd sometimes worried that one day he was going to spiral off on the top end of one of those pendulum swings, never to return to sanity again. Maybe that had finally happened. And if it had? The last thing Mary needed after what had gone on last night was to learn that he was clinically insane.

  Because, shit, why else would he feel so damn weird in his own skin?

  Damn it, it was like he'd won the lottery only to find out he was allergic to the cash or some shit.

  "Rhage?"

  He shook himself. "I'm sorry, what?"

  "Do you want me to get you some food?"

  "Nah. I'm still full." He retucked her in against him. "I could use a whole lot more of this, though."

  Mary snuggled up close, stretching her arm around his shoulders as far as it would go. "You got it."

  I tried to kill myself last night, he said to her in his head. And I have no idea why.

  Yup. It was official.

  He'd lost his mind.

  FOURTEEN

  "It's up here."

  Jo Early eased off on the accelerator of her Volkswagen piece of crap. "Yeah, I know where it is, Dougie."

  "Right here--"

  "I know."

  There was no reason to hit the directional signal. At seven in the morning, there were no other cars around, nobody to care as she went through the off-kilter, paint-flaking iron gates of the old prep school her mother had gone to a million years ago.

  Wow. The Brownswick School for Girls had seen better days.

  Her mother would so not approve of this landscaping at all. Or lack thereof.

  Then again, the woman could throw an aneurysm over a single dandelion head in her five-acre lawn.

  Driving down the pitted asphalt lane, Jo steered around holes that were big enough to eat her little Golf, and dodged fallen tree limbs--some of which were old enough to rot.

  "God, my head hurts."

  She glanced over at her roommate. Dougie Keefer was Shaggy from Scooby Doo--without the talking Great Dane. And yes, his nickname was Reefer for good reason.

  "I told you to go to a doc in the box. When you passed out here last night--"

  "I was hit on the head!"

  "--you probably got a concussion."

  Although any neuro consult on the guy would be tough to read because he was usually seeing double. And numbness and tingling was a lifestyle choice in his eyes.

  Dougie cracked his knuckles one by one. "I'll be fine."

  "Then stop complaining. Besides, half of the problem is that you're sobering up. It's called a hangover."

  As they went further into the campus, buildings appeared, and she imagined them with clean, unbroken windows and freshly painted trim and doors that didn't hang at bad angles. She could absolutely see her mother here, with her sweater sets and her pearls, gunning for her MRS. degree already even though this had just been a prep school, not a college.

  Twenty-first century mores aside, things had gotten time capsuled in the nineteen fifties for her mother. And the woman had the matching shoes and handbags to prove it.

  And people wondered why Jo had moved away?

  "You're not ready for this, Jo. I'm telling you."

  "Whatever. I need to get to work."

  "It's going to blow your mind."

  "Uh-huh."

  Dougie turned to her, the seat belt cutting into his chest. "You saw the video."

  "I don't know what I was looking at. It was dark--and before you keep arguing, remember April Fool's this year?"

  "Okay, it's October, for one thing." The chuckle he tossed out was so him. "And yeah, that was a good one."

  "Not for me it wasn't."

  Dougie had decided it would be fun to borrow her car for the day and then send her a photoshopped picture of the thing wrapped around a tree. How he'd managed to focus long enough to get the optical con job done had been a mystery--but it had looked so real, she'd even called her insurance company.

  As well as had a breakdown in the bathroom at work as she'd wondered how in the hell she was going to cover her deductible.

  That was the thing about leaving your rich parents in the rea
rview. A five-hundred-dollar, unbudgeted hit could make eating difficult.

  With a frown, she leaned into the steering wheel. "What is tha--oh, crap."

  Hitting the brakes, she stopped in front of an entire tree that had fallen across the lane. Quick check of the clock and she cursed. Even though time was passing, she was not four-by-fouring in the Golf and running the risk of having to call AAA and paying for a tow truck.

  "If we're going to do this, we've got to walk."

  "Go around it."

  "And get stuck in the mud? It rained late last night." She cut the engine and snagged her car key. "Come on. You want to show me, you'd better start hoofing it. Otherwise I'm turning us around."

  Dougie was still bitching as they set off on foot, stepping over the downed maple and continuing down the lane. The morning was bitterly cold, and surprisingly so--the kind of thing that made you glad you'd taken your parka on a whim, and pissed that you'd left your hat and gloves behind because in your mind it was "only October."

  "Now I know why I don't get up before noon," Dougie muttered.

  Jo glanced up at the bare limbs above. She hated being a pessimist, but she had to wonder whether any of the suckers were going to go into a free fall and kill her. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"

  He put his arm around her shoulders. "Because you loooooove me."

  "Nope." She elbowed him in the ribs. "That's definitely not it."

  And yet it kinda of was. She'd met Dougie and his stoner troop through an acquaintance, and they'd taken her in when she'd been in desperate need of a place to crash. The arrangement was supposed to have been a couch-crashing temporary, but then a bedroom had opened up in their apartment, and a year later, she was living in the mid-twenties version of a frat house. With a bunch of recalcitrant man-boys. Who she seemed to be in charge of.

  "We're getting close." He put his hands up to his head like it was blown. Which was a short trip. "I mean, body parts everywhere, and the smell. Worse than what's in our refrigerator. I mean, we're talking dead bodies, Jo. Dead! Except they were moving! And then that--"

  "Hallucination of a dragon. You told me."

  "You saw the footage!"

  "I know better than this," she said as she shook her head. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice--"

  "Jo. It was real. It was fucking real--I saw a monster and . . ."