The Beast

by J. R. Ward

  "I had no idea."

  "No one did." Mary looked at the thirty-foot-long dining room table with all its finery. "She and her mother kept quiet because they were afraid. And the thing is, I'm worried about Bitty's health. I know that she had treatment at Havers's for that broken leg, and there was a work-up at that point. But that was a while ago. I want someone to take a look at her sometime soon, and I want to bring her to the clinic here, not to Havers's."

  As Marissa started to protest, Mary put her hand up. "Hear me out. Her mother just died there. You think she needs to head back to that facility anytime soon? And yes, it can wait a month or two, but you've seen how frail she is. Even if you assume vampires are under-developed compared to humans of similar age until the change, she's alarmingly small. Ehlena has a great background with young vampires, Doc Jane has a perfect bedside manner, and we can easily bring Bitty into the training center, do the work-up there, and take her out again as soon as it's over."

  Marissa fiddled with her fork. "I can see the logic."

  "We can even do it tomorrow night if Doc Jane has some time. We're taking Bitty to dinner with us."

  "You and Rhage?"

  "It's just like the ice cream trip. She really likes him." Mary smiled. "She calls him a big friendly dog."

  Marissa's frown did not inspire confidence. And neither did the period of silence that was filled with talk from other people as folks filed into the room in pairs and small groups.

  "Marissa. I know what I'm doing here. And more to the point, the proof that I'm on the right track with her is the fact that she's finally opening up. She's been with us for how long?"

  "Look, I'm not qualified to tell you how to do your job--and I guess that's my problem. I'm a manager, I make the trains run on time. I do not have a master's in social work--so I'd like to talk to some of the others. You're very good at your job, and I can't argue with the results, especially in Bitty's case. But I don't want you to get in over your head--and I'm a little worried about that."

  "How so?" Mary put her hands up. "I admit I might have treated the situation with her mother's passing in a different way if I'd known--"

  "You're taking an orphan out for ice cream. To your mother's grave site. To dinner with your mate. You don't think there's a possibility that you're doing this for reasons that are personal in nature?"

  *

  "Lemme see. Come on, lemme see."

  Out in front of the mansion, Rhage elbowed Butch's body to the side so he could check out what was in the back of the Hummer. When he got a gander at the display of hardware, he laughed under his breath.

  "Not bad." He picked up one of the Glock autoloaders out of its egg-carton padding and ran a check on it, popping out the clip, pumping the trigger, assessing the weight and sight. "How many did you get?"

  V popped a second steel briefcase. "There are another eight in here. Sixteen total."

  "What was the price?" Butch demanded as he snagged another weapon and put it through the same workout.

  "Ten thousand." V opened a black nylon duffel and showed off the boxes of ammo. "There's no discount on them, but there are also no numbers, and we didn't have to worry about dealing with legit human channels."

  Rhage nodded. "Fritz has got to be on some kind of watch list by now."

  "What else can we get from them?" Butch asked as he palmed up a third, the sound of metal-on-metal rising from his quick hands.

  "Like they have a catalog or some shit?" V shrugged. "I'm thinking ask and ye shall receive."

  "Can we BOGO some rocket launchers?" Rhage asked. "Or, I'm telling you, we could use some anti-aircraft guns."

  Butch punched Rhage's biceps. "If he gets anti-aircraft, I want a cannon."

  "You two are a pair of fuck sticks, you know that?"

  Rhage took the duffel with the ammo, and Butch took the two suitcases so V could lock up and light up. They were about halfway across the cobblestones when V hesitated. Wobbled. Shook his head.

  "What's doing?" Butch asked.

  "Nothing." The brother kept going, taking the stone steps two at a time and opening the vestibule's door. As he put his puss in the security camera, he muttered, "Just hungry."

  "I feel you on that one." Rhage rubbed his belly. "I need food stat."

  The comment was casual. The look he and Butch shared was not. The reality, however, was that even Brothers could be hypoglycemic, and not everything was an emergency. Going by the cop's grim expression, he was going to be on it, though, when he and V went back to the Pit for the day.

  "Where you want this stuff, V? In the tunnel?"

  When Vishous nodded, Rhage took the suitcases from Butch and walked the load behind the grand staircase to the hidden door to the tunnel. Unlocking things by entering the code, he placed the load of metal and lead on the landing and triple-checked that things re-locked as he shut the panel once again. With Nalla crawling, nobody took any chances with guns or ammo, even when the shit was separated.

  Doubling back, he headed for the dining room.

  Inside the beautiful space, there was lots of chatter and laughing, with people everywhere, and doggen making sure drinks were served before they brought out the food. Mary was over by Marissa, and at first Rhage started to go around to them, but then he caught the tension and backed off, taking his normal chair across the way.

  Meanwhile, Mary was leaning into her boss, speaking urgently. Marissa nodded. Then shook her head. Then spoke. And now it was Mary's turn again.

  Had to be about work.

  Maybe even about Bitty?

  Manny pulled up a chair. "How we doing, young man?"

  "Hey, old fart. Where's your better half?"

  "Payne's having a lie-down. I tired her out, if you get what I mean."

  The two pounded knuckles, and then Rhage went back to trying to look as if he weren't lip-reading. Which, P.S., wasn't going that well.

  "Cabbage nightmare, juicing machine cassette player," Mary said.

  "Movie magic twelve times a day." Marissa took a sip from her wineglass. "Then tennis with the can-can. Peanuts and Philly steak, bagel bagel cream cheese."

  "Saran wrap?"

  "Toothpaste."

  "Garage bay, Christmas bikini wannabe Grape Nuts with Dr Pepper."

  "Fuck me," he muttered. And considering how many food references his brain was pulling out of their mouth positions, he was so ready to eat.

  Mary eventually got up and the two nodded. Then his shellan came around to him.

  "You okay?" he asked as he pulled out her chair.

  "Oh, yes. Yes." She smiled at him and then sat down and stared at her empty plate. "Sorry. I'm just . . ."

  "What can I do to help?"

  Turning to him, she rubbed her face. "Tell me that everything's going to be okay?"

  Rhage pulled her into his lap and ran his palm up and down her outer thigh. "I promise you. Everything is going to be fine. Whatever it is, we'll make it fine."

  The doggen of the house filed in with silver trays of roast beef and potatoes, chicken and rice, and some steaming veggies and sauces. As Mary shifted back onto her own seat, he was bummed, but he understood where she was coming from. He would just end up feeding her until she was stuffed while he starved--and then he would wolf everything that wasn't nailed down before dessert came.

  They'd been through this before.

  "Sire," a doggen said behind him. "There is a special preparation for you."

  Even though he was worried about his Mary, Rhage clapped his palms and rubbed them. "Fantastic. I'm ready to eat this entire table."

  A second member of the staff removed his charger and pushed his silverware setting wide. Then a large silver platter with a cloche was placed in front of him.

  "Wassup, Hollywood?" someone said. "Our food not good enough for you?"

  "Yo, Rhage, you get your own cow or something?"

  "I thought you were on Jenny Craig," another voice called out.

  "I think he's eating Jenny Craig--an
d that shit is just wrong. Humans are not food."

  He gave everyone the middles, and popped the lid--

  "Oh, come on!" he barked as laughter exploded in the air. "Seriously? You guys are serious. Really."

  A snorkel and a diving mask had been arranged with care on a porcelain platter, little sprigs of parsley and lemon wedges tucked in around the edges.

  Mary started laughing, and the only thing that saved his brothers was that she threw her arms around his meatheaded neck and kissed him.

  "That's a good one," she said against his mouth. "Come on, you know it is."

  "You flood one goddamn bathroom, and suddenly, it's a theme--"

  "Shh, just kiss me, okay?"

  He was still grumbling, but he did what his shellan told him to. It was either that or ruin his appetite . . . . by commiting murder.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  "You realize that he's married."

  It was around midday that Jo jumped in her receptionist chair and frowned. Bryant was leaning on the counter over her desk, his face dead serious, his bow tie so perfectly done, it looked like it was a sculpted piece of plastic rather than anything made from silk.

  "What are you talking about?" She handed him a file. "And this is for your one-thirty."

  "Bill. He's married."

  "What are you--excuse me?"

  "Look." Bryant made a show of running his manicure around the edges of the legal-size folder. "I saw you, okay. At a stoplight. You were in his car. I just don't want you to get hurt."

  For the first time in recorded history, Jo sat back and really looked at the guy. Funny, his aura was actually a good eraser of some minor flaws that she'd missed before: His eyes were a little too close together; his upper lip had a curious overhang; that nose had a bump at the end.

  "I'm only worried about you," he concluded. Like an older brother.

  Jo crossed her arms over her chest. Come to think of it, his voice had a reedy quality that was kind of grating.

  "Hello?" he prompted. As if he'd banked on a specific reaction and was determined to get it. "Jo. Did you hear what I said?"

  It was definitely time to move on, she decided. Polish up her resume. Get on Monster.com and the CCJ website. Do something else.

  She had spent a good year and a half mooning over this narcissist, living off of a wink or an implication from him, bending over backward to make his professional and personal lives run smoothly--and, ultimately, checking her libido at the door because this one-sided sexual tension with a jerk was a safer bet than trying to find a real guy of her own.

  "I'm giving you my two weeks' notice."

  "What."

  "You heard me."

  "Wait, are you crazy? You're quitting because I tell you your boyfriend has a wife? When you already knew it? The closing was here in this office. You met her--"

  "It's got nothing to do with Bill. He and I are working on a story together." Okay, that was a stretch. "I just need more than you can give me."

  "Is this about the real estate exam? Fine, if you insist on taking it--"

  "It's really not anything like that." She glanced at her computer. "And it's noon, so I'm taking lunch."

  With quick work on the office phone, she routed the main number to voice mail, picked up her purse from the floor, and walked around the partition. Bryant moved into her path like he wanted to argue, but she just shook her head.

  "You'd better start looking for a new receptionist if you want me to have any time to train her."

  "Jo. You are acting in a really unprofessional way."

  Dropping her voice, she said, "You have me lie to the women you're dating so they don't find out what a douche bag you are. I pick up your dry cleaning. Make your haircut appointments. I've taken your car in to be serviced how many times? And don't get me started on your condominium association's complaints for your noise violations, your pool boy, your HVAC issues and the bug man. All of that is unprofessional. But don't worry. You'll find yourself another sucker. Men like you always do. It's just not going to be me anymore."

  Jo walked out the glass doors and into the October sun--which was too weak to move the temperature much, but was bright enough to make her take out her Ray-Bans.

  Getting in her VW, she was not surprised that Bryant didn't come after her--no doubt he was onto the next dinner date crisis. Or maybe he was checking his hair in his private bathroom. Or who the heck knew what he was doing. One thing she did know? It wasn't going to have anything to do with her.

  It never had been about her, at least not on his side. And the stuff he'd said about Bill? That was just a self-protective reflex because she was a good lackey and he didn't want her slipping away.

  But as she'd said, there would be another. No doubt.

  As Jo drove off, she looked at the real estate office in her rearview and thought of Bill and his cousin Troy. They were nice enough guys, but not really anything that truly caught her eye.

  When was she going to meet a real man?

  Whatever. She needed to find a job, and then there was the whole vampire thing to spin her wheels about.

  Taking out her phone, she called Bill. "I'm heading out to the farm now if you want to meet me."

  *

  "You ready to turn in?"

  At the sound of Rhage's voice, Mary jerked on the sofa, kicking the blanket that had been pulled over her legs onto the floor. Sitting up, she glanced around the billiards room, and then looked at Rhage, who was leaning over her.

  "I fell asleep. Where did everyone go? Is the tournament over?"

  He nodded as he sat on the coffee table and balanced his pool cue on his forefinger. "Butch won. The bastard. He and V just headed to the Pit."

  With a big yawn, she pushed her hair back. The massive T.V. over the fireplace was muted, some kind of Steven Seagal throwback movie from the early nineties showing him punching out a bunch of guys on a city street.

  "I think that was what was on when I crashed," she said idly as she pointed to the screen

  "Actually, that was three movies ago." Rhage stroked her cheek. "This is a different one, but don't feel bad. They all look the same. You going to let me carry you up?"

  "I can make it myself."

  "I know." He put the cue aside and offered her a hand. "The question is, will you stop me from picking you up?"

  She smiled. "No."

  Rhage drew her off the sofa, and the next thing she knew, she was in his strong arms and he was striding in between the pool tables. Out in the foyer, she yawned again and got comfy for the trip.

  "You are too good to me," she murmured.

  "Not even by half."

  Up on the second floor, he stopped in front of the closed door of their room, and she bent down and opened the way in for them. With no effort at all, he took her over to the bed and laid her out on her side of the mattress.

  "Can you brush my teeth for me?" she asked. "That is the real question."

  "You got it."

  As he went to turn away, she laughed. "That was a rhetorical."

  "I was going to bring you your brush and a glass of water." He put his hands on his hips and stared down at her. "Unless you're determined to make it to the sink?"

  Boy, he was a fantastic-looking male specimen, she thought as she measured his enormous shoulders and bulging arms, his flat stomach and lean pelvis, those long, powerful legs. And then there was that blond hair, those brilliant Bahamian blue eyes, that bone structure that seemed drawn by a master artist as opposed to something that had been born into this world.

  "Mary?"

  "Just admiring the view."

  "Oh?" He pivoted and flashed his ass. "You like?"

  "Very much. How 'bout you take that shirt off for me?"

  Glancing over his shoulder, he narrowed his eyes. "Are you coming on to me?"

  "Why, yes, I believe I am."

  He turned back around, grabbed the front of his muscle shirt, and growled, "Say please first."

  "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease
--"

  Riiiiiiip. And then his bare chest was on display, all that musculature throwing shadows in the dim light from the lamp on the bureau.

  Rhage moved his hand down between his legs, gripping the hard length that had made a very serious appearance in the front of his leathers. "You want to see something else?" he drawled.

  "Yes," she breathed.

  His fingers were slow on the button fly, teasing her as he revealed his erection inch by inch until it popped free and jutted straight out at her.

  Mary reached down herself and disappeared her pants, spreading her legs as he stood back and stroked himself.

  "Come here," she said.

  Rhage was up on that bed of theirs, up on her, in the work of a moment, and she guided him to her, bringing his head to her core. With a moan, she wrapped her legs around his ass, and he moved with force, joining them, rocking against her with increasing speed, going hard until the bed creaked and the pillows got bounced off and the duvet waded up beneath her.

  As she grabbed onto his back, she felt the beast surge under her nails, the tattoo rising up and creating a pattern in his skin as if it wanted to get out.

  "Mary," Rhage said into her neck. "Oh, fuck, Mary . . ."

  At the sound of his hoarse voice, an orgasm hit her like a lightning strike, the pleasure making her call out as he punched his pelvis into her again and again while he ejaculated.

  When they finally went still, she stroked his spine, petting the beast, which surged under her touch. And it was so strange. In moments like this, even though it was crazy, it seemed like the three of them were together.

  "Would you like to come shower with me?" Rhage asked as he nuzzled her throat. "I can think of some fun things to do with the soap."

  "Really? Do tell."

  "Cleanliness is next to godliness--isn't that the human expression?"

  Mary yawned and stretched, feeling him still inside. "I have an idea. You get started and I'll be right in."

  "Perfect."

  After a couple of lingering kisses, Rhage pulled out and got up. Ditching the leathers from his lower legs, he walked buck naked into their bathroom.

  Talk about a view.

  He was like a walking Greek statue.

  The shower came on, and she caught a whiff of the shampoo they used, and then the soap . . . and then the conditioner.