by J. R. Ward
“So that’s why you were at the lab that night.”
“Yes.”
He went back to staring at the targets. It was a safer bet for keeping his composure. Sarah’s eyes were too . . . kind.
“You and Xhex . . .” she started.
“We were lovers. Not any longer, though. Those times are far in the past for she and I, and there are no regrets on either side. We’re just friends.”
“I’m glad. Even though I have no right to be.”
“You have every right.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Before he could say anything else, Sarah crossed her arms and stared down the target range, too. “What kind of enemy does the race have?”
“Sarah . . .”
“I can’t talk about us right now. I will break down in tears and I’m too tired for that. Please . . . just tell me who your enemy is.”
Murhder cursed under his breath and tried to remember something, anything about the Lessening Society. “It’s all a source of great evil. And by that, I’m not talking about a human with a mean streak. The Omega is much, much worse, and he can turn men into killing machines that are as immortal as he is until you stab them home. He is pure malevolence and has special powers to act on it.”
When she didn’t say anything, he rubbed his aching head. She was just staring straight ahead of herself, but obviously not seeing anything.
“This really is a different world,” she mumbled. Then she shook herself and looked at him. “Is that what’s in John?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s some version of the Omega. They aren’t really telling me much.”
The shake of her head was not encouraging. “I wish I had more time.”
Murhder thought about what Xhex had said about Sarah, about him doing the right thing by the woman. Erasing her memory. Sending her back to her own world.
Then he touched the sacred shard of glass at his throat and looked back at the targets. He thought about getting Sarah out of that lab. He would have fought anything that came at her, protected her with his life.
Why was the Brotherhood’s decision about her staying any different?
This was bullshit. She didn’t have to go back, any more than the other humans working here did.
“I’m going to go talk to the King,” he announced. “And change his mind. You should be able to stay here as long as you like.”
There was a tense silence. And then she said the words he wanted to hear.
“I would like . . . to stay.” Her eyes were pools of warmth as she looked at him. “With you.”
Striding over to her, Murhder kissed her and brought her in close to his chest. “I’ll change their minds. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it.”
“Can I come with you?” she said into his shirt. “I’ve got some stake in all this—especially because Kraiten is going to want to take care of me—and by that, I don’t mean a conventional severance package. More like my head in a box.”
He pulled back. “You think you’re in danger?”
Fucking finally, Xhex thought as her phone went off with a text from John. It was the work of a moment for her to peel off from shAdoWs and dematerialize back to the mansion, and as she re-formed on the front steps of the Brotherhood’s great Gothic manse, she didn’t feel the cold at all. A combination of anger and relief made her numb.
He was back home apparently. Had been for a little while and had only just now thought to check in.
Like it was any other night. Like he didn’t have that shoulder wound no one could explain or heal. Like he hadn’t taken off without telling her a goddamn thing.
Racing up to the entrance, she yanked open the heavy door and shoved her face into the vestibule’s security camera. As soon as Fritz opened things wide, she burst into the grand foyer, the multi-colored, Russian tsar–like interior making absolutely no impression on her at all.
“Are you looking for the sire?” Fritz said as he jumped back so he wasn’t mowed over.
“John—yes, I’m looking for John.”
“He’s in the playroom.”
Xhex stopped. “What’s he doing there?”
“He just sent down an order for hot cocoa.”
Xhex thanked the doggen and took the palace-worthy staircase two at a time. As she hung a left in front of the closed doors of Wrath’s study, she could feel her temper rising, and the anger got worse as she hotfooted it down the Hall of Statues and punched through the double doors at the end. On the far side, there was what had originally been solely a staff wing. In the past few years, however, things had been renovated extensively, first to accommodate a state-of-the-art movie theater . . . and then, with all the babies that had come along, a playroom.
Striding past the entrance to the theater, she headed toward the two-bedroom suite which had recently been converted into a land of plush toys, dancing robots, iPads, Legos, art supplies—you name it, the Uncles Brotherhood had ordered it off Amazon.
She even knew what Melissa & Doug was now.
As she closed in on all the cheerfulness and whimsy, she didn’t need her vampire hearing to pick up on the sounds of cooing babies and adult talk. The door to the space was wide open, and the scents suggested someone had cut up strawberries and someone’s diaper was fresh: She could smell the sweetness of both—and scent her mate.
John was in there. And for fuck’s sake, she wanted to march in and interrupt whatever oochie-poo, cutesy-pie conversation he was having to point out that she was being strong, she was being brave, she was trying not to freak out and give him space over the very thing that John himself was terrified about—but goddamn it, he needed to answer his motherfucking phone.
And not go out hunting lessers with fucking Murhder, goddamn it. When he was unarmed and injured.
And could you fucking answer your fucking phone, fucker!
But even though she had the maternal instincts of a heavyweight boxer on a good night—and this was not a fucking good night—she didn’t want to scare the young.
“—remember, John, yes.” It was Bella, Z’s shellan, who was talking. “Mary introduced us. And I called the Brotherhood. So mysterious how it all happened.”
“But how great it is.” Now Beth, the Queen. “That we all ended up here.”
“It was meant to be.” Mary, Rhage’s mate. “Speaking of which, mind if I hold His Lordship?”
“L.W. loves his auntie Mary.”
Xhex slowed down. And when she got in range, so she could look through the jambs, she froze.
In the midst of a scatter of colorful bouncing balls, John was sitting up against a wall that was painted a cheerful pale blue with clouds, the depiction of a maple tree growing in bright green grass seeming to sprout out of the top of his head. With his legs stretched out in front of him, and his hands in his lap, he was nodding at the three females around him, smiling with his lips . . . but not his eyes.
His emotional grid was stained with sadness as he sat among those who had been so instrumental in getting him to the Brotherhood: Beth, with whom, as her blooded brother, he had always had some kind of special connection. Mary, who had answered his call at the Suicide Prevention Hotline. Bella, who had brought him to the training center because of that scar he’d been born with.
Only Wellsie was missing.
The females had no idea he was saying goodbye to them, Xhex thought.
But he did.
She took a step back. And another. When she hit the wall across from the doorway, she linked her arms around herself and felt her heart pound with pure terror. It was one thing to read his grid and see into his soul. It was another altogether to witness him begin to get his affairs in order.
He really was dying.
As Xhex felt a pressure on the lower half of her face, she realized that her palm had somehow known that it was a good idea to cover her mouth. In the event the anguish in the center of her chest somehow escaped.
Abruptly, John shifted his eyes and looked at her.
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The three females continued to reminisce about the past and the mysteries of destiny. And they passed their young around. And they smiled.
John stared out of the happiness around him with sadness in his eyes.
As Xhex’s anger dematerialized as if it had never been, she reflected on the fact that when you were out of time, you found forgiveness and acceptance so much easier to give.
Bringing her hands up to the center of her chest, she moved through finger positions with deliberation.
I love you, she signed to him. Come find me when you’re ready.
He nodded, and she took off before any of the others saw her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love the females.
It’s just, when you were trying on grief for size, you wanted privacy.
Kind of like when you tried on your own death.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
So where are we going?”
As Sarah put the question out there, it was because she only knew part of the answer: She and Murhder were in a borrowed Volvo, and after they’d left the underground facility and proceeded through a series of very impressive gates—as well as a strange haze that was nearly impossible to see around—they were now headed toward a city which she understood to be smaller than the Big Apple, but much larger than Albany, the New York State capital.
She’d only ever driven past Caldwell before.
“The King has a place where he meets with people.” Murhder glanced over. “It’s in a nice part of town, don’t worry.”
“Is it like a court?” Images of Buckingham Palace went through her mind. “Does he have a throne and everything?”
As she pondered the possibilities, a childlike wonder came over her, but the flush of curiosity didn’t last. They were going by strip malls now, and the restaurant chains that anchored the lineup of stores—Panera, Zaxbys, Applebee’s, TGI Fridays—reminded her that real life was still happening, all around her.
She couldn’t keep her head in the sand. She had a house. Bank accounts. Bills. Taxes, insurance . . . a car—which was still in the parking lot at BioMed. If this worked, and she could stay in his world, she was going to have a lot to clean up first.
“Do they know we’re coming?” she said.
“It’ll be fine.”
She looked at him. “Are you sure about that?”
Eventually, they got away from the retail centers and into neighborhood territory—not that the houses on either side of the street had anything in common with where she lived in Ithaca. These were big places, set back a ways from the road, all kinds of brass fixtures hanging from porches with lots of molding and flourishes around them.
Not exactly the crib you’d expect a vampire king to hang out in, but not slumming it, for sure.
The house Murhder eventually stopped in front of was a Federal beauty that certainly looked authentic, as opposed to the result of modern builders copying the best of the past.
As Murhder turned off the engine, he stared out of the front windshield. His profile was striking, all the masculine lines of his cheek and nose and jaw an arresting composition of male beauty. And then there was his hair.
And everything he could do with his hips when they were—
Okay, not the time to think about that.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Even though she could guess. She had the feeling that he had “borrowed” the car—as in taken it without permission on the theory that apologizing would work if they were caught in it. And she also was pretty sure this was going to be a surprise visit.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said. Even though she wasn’t sure what their other option was.
“Yes, we do.” He turned to her in his seat. “But I don’t want you to find out who I really am. I want you to believe that I’m a hero. That I saved you and Nate. That I’m worth something—because I feel like if you think it, it will be true. And it’s really not.”
“I know who you are—”
“You don’t. But you will.”
At that, he opened his door and got out. As the cold air rushed in, she tried not to find portent in it, but as a tremor went through her, she had to remind herself the deep freeze was just the winter temperature. Not a hint at the future.
He waited for her as she came around the front of the car, and then they walked up a shoveled path to a door that she expected to be answered by a butler in uniform—
The heavy panel swung wide. Not a butler on the other side, though. Nope. Not unless they were arming Mr. Carsons and sending them out into combat zones fully weaponized: The male had a military haircut—with a white streak in the front of all the dark—military clothes, military boots. And dark blue eyes like laser cannons.
She had some vague memory of seeing him down in the underground facility.
“And your bright ideas just keep coming tonight,” he snapped. “Are you going for some kind of award?”
“I need to talk to Wrath.”
“No, you need to take her back where she belongs.” He glanced over at Sarah. “No offense, ma’am.”
Murhder’s upper lip began to twitch. “You can’t keep me from the King—”
“The hell I can’t—”
Murhder stepped up into the male’s face. “What is wrong with you, huh? What the fuck is your problem—”
“You took my adopted son out into the field when neither of you were prepared or armed and you went rogue with him.” The male bared his fangs. “My son. Do you have any idea how important that kid is to me? There’s only one person on the planet who means more to me than John does, and I’m mated to her. That is why I’m pissed off at you.”
Murhder cursed. Stepped back.
The other male’s voice dropped. “Look, I don’t actually have a problem with you. What I have a problem with is the chaos you bring wherever you go. We’ve got real issues to deal with. Serious shit. And here you are on the sidelines, kicking up drama. It’s not what any of us needs, and it’s not doing you any good, either. Now, please, take her and yourself, and do what’s right in both cases. Which is get gone.”
Sarah opened her mouth. But before she could speak, Murhder cut in.
“Everything you say is true. All of it. And I’m sorry I took John out in the field. Just let us see Wrath and we’ll go peacefully. You have my word.”
“Your word isn’t good around here anymore.”
Sarah put her hand on Murhder’s arm in case he decided to get aggressive again, and waited until he looked down at her. “It’s okay. I can tell Jane everything I’m thinking in terms of John’s care and she can take it from there. She’s a good doctor and she’ll be able to do it all.” Then she glared at the military guy. “And excuse me, but you might consider the fact that he saved a boy from a human torture factory, got me out of there safely, and is the only reason your son has even the hint of a clinical solution to his mortal wound. So back the fuck off, Sergeant Know-It-All.”
Annnnnnd now they were in Darius’s formal parlor waiting for Wrath.
As Sarah went over and inspected the floor-to-ceiling portrait of that French king, Murhder hung back and had to smile to himself.
There were not a lot of grown males who would get up into the face of Tohrment, son of Hharm. Especially when the Brother was armed and in a bad mood. Sarah, on the other hand, had been willing to risk great bodily harm to stand up for what she believed in.
Who she believed in.
Too bad the faith was so misplaced.
“This house is amazing.” She pivoted on one foot. “And who would have guessed? I mean, that vampires are in a neighborhood like this. You know, I expected the King to live in a big castle up on a mountain, with gargoyles on the roof and a moat. Instead, this is something out of Town and Country magazine.”
How am I going to let you go, he wondered.
Sarah walked over to him and took his hands. “Okay, sphinx. You need to talk to me before we go in and see the big guy. Let’s jus
t lay it all out on the table. I can tell you’re uncomfortable here and around those males—”
“It’s not about them. I don’t care about them anymore.”
“Anymore?”
“They were my Brothers. All of them. But that was a long time ago. A forever ago.”
She frowned. “Family doesn’t stop. There is no past tense to family, Murhder.”
Murhder just shook his head. He didn’t have the energy to argue the point or explain himself. Instead, he was oh, so very aware that time was passing fast and this mission to see the king, which he had started out on with such purpose, was devolving into a rock-solid hell-no that he was going to be unable to counter.
“I need you to know something,” he whispered as he stared down into her golden eyes. “Even if you can only know it for now and a little bit longer.”
“What?” she breathed.
“I love you.” He brushed the smooth skin of her cheek. “I’ve fallen in love with you, and I just . . . some things need to be said, even if they’re wrong.”
“But it’s not wrong.” She turned her head and kissed his palm. “It’s not wrong between you and me. None of this is wrong . . .”
Her eyes, as she looked up at him, made him wish he still believed in a higher power. Life had taught him otherwise, however, and there was no un-learning the lesson that destiny was a douchebag and loss was more likely than gain.
He placed her hand over his heart. “I am yours. And that is forever, even if your memories of me are not.”
“I refuse to believe you can take all this from me.” She shook her head. “How can you reach so deep into my mind, into me? You are permanent in my life. In me. And I love you, too.”
They met halfway, her rising up onto her toes, him lowering himself down. And as their lips met and melded, the kiss was a kind of vow, a promise of ever after that would ultimately not be kept by her, and always kept by him.
Murhder wouldn’t have had it any other way.
He would rather bear the pain of all that could have been for the rest of his nights than have her suffer even a day of that burden of grief.
