Dark Lover

by J. R. Ward

  He nodded. "I—"

  "You wish the covenant with Marissa to be broken. You have found another and you would take her as your shellan."

  "Yes."

  "This female you want. She is the daughter of your brother Darius, who is in the Fade."

  "Have you seen him?"

  She laughed slightly. "Do not make inquiries of me. I let your first question slide because you were being polite, but remember your manners, warrior."

  Shit.

  "My apologies, Scribe Virgin."

  "I grant you and Marissa freedom from your covenant."

  "Thank you."

  There was a long pause.

  He waited for her ruling on the second part of his request. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask.

  "Tell me something, warrior. Do you think your species is unworthy?"

  He frowned and then quickly smoothed his face into neutral. The Scribe Virgin wasn't going to put up with being glowered at.

  "Well, warrior?"

  He had no idea where she was going with this. "My species is a fierce and proud race."

  "I didn't ask you for a statement of definition. I asked you what you thought of them."

  "I protect them with my life."

  "And yet you will not lead your people. So I can only surmise that you do not value them and therefore fight because you like to or because you wish to die. Which is it?"

  This time he let his frown stay in place. "My race survives because of what the brothers and I do."

  "Barely. In fact, its numbers dwindle. It does not thrive. The only localized colony is the one that settled on the United States' East Coast. And even they live isolated from one another. There are no communities. The festivals are no longer held. Rituals are observed privately, if at all. There is no one to mediate disputes, no one to give them hope. And the Black Dagger Brotherhood is cursed. There are none left in it who do not suffer."

  "The brothers have their… problems. But they are strong."

  "And should be stronger." She shook her head. "You have failed your bloodline, warrior. You have failed your purpose. So tell me, why should I grant your wish to take the half-breed as queen?" The Scribe Virgin's robes moved as if she were shaking her head. "Better that you continue to merely service her with your staff than to have your people saddled with yet another meaningless figurehead. Go now, warrior. We are finished."

  "I would have a word in my defense," he said, gritting his teeth.

  "And I would deny you." She turned away.

  "I beg of your mercy." He hated saying the words, and he guessed by the sound of her laugh that she knew it.

  The Scribe Virgin came back to him.

  When she spoke, her tone was hard, hard as the black lines of her robe against all the white marble. "If you're going to beg, warrior, do it properly. Get on your knees."

  Wrath forced his body down to the ground, hating her.

  "I rather like you like this," she murmured, back to being relatively pleasant. "Now, what were you saying?"

  He swallowed the hostile words in his throat, forcing himself to affect an even temper that was an absolute lie. "I love her. I want to honor her, not just have her to warm my bed."

  "So treat her well. But there is no need to have a ceremony."

  "I disagree." He tacked on, "Respectfully."

  There was a long pause.

  "You have sought no counsel from me over these centuries."

  He lifted his head. "Is that what bothers you?"

  "Do not question me!" she snapped. "Or I will have that half-breed taken from you faster than your next breath."

  Wrath put his head down and ground his fists into the marble.

  He waited.

  Waited so long, he was tempted to look and see if she had gone.

  "I will require a favor," she said.

  "Name it."

  "You will lead your people."

  Wrath looked up, his throat squeezing shut. He couldn't save his parents, he could barely do right by Beth, and the Scribe Virgin wanted him to be responsible for his whole goddamned race?

  "What say you, warrior?"

  Yeah, like no was an option. "As you wish, Scribe Virgin."

  "That is my command, warrior. It is not my wish and not the favor I will ask of you, either." She let out an exasperated noise. "Do get to your feet. Those knuckles of yours are bleeding on my marble."

  He stood and leveled his eyes on her. He stayed silent, figuring she was probably going to lay some more conditions on him.

  She addressed him sharply. "You have no wish to be king. That is obvious. But it is your birth obligation, and it is about time you lived up to your legacy."

  Wrath dragged a hand through his hair, creeping anxiety tensing his muscles.

  The Scribe Virgin's voice softened. A little. "Worry not, warrior. I will not leave you to find your way alone. You will come to me and I will help you. Being your counsel is part of my purpose."

  Which was a good thing, because he was going to need the help. He had no clue how to rule. He could kill a hundred different ways, handle himself in any kind of battle, keep his head cool when the goddamned world was on fire. But ask him to address a thousand of his people in a crowd? His stomach rolled.

  "Warrior?"

  "Yeah, you'll be hearing from me."

  "But that's still not the favor you owe."

  "What is—" He brushed a hand through his hair. "I take that back."

  She laughed softly. "You always did learn fast."

  "I'd better." If he were going to be king.

  The Scribe Virgin floated closer to him, and he smelled lilacs. "Put your hand out."

  He did.

  The black folds shifted as her arm came up. Something fell into his hand. A ring. A heavy gold ring set with a ruby the size of walnut. It was so hot he almost had to drop the thing.

  The Saturnine Ruby.

  "You will give her this from me. And I will attend the ceremony."

  Wrath gripped the gift so hard, it bit into his palm. "You honor us."

  "Yes, but I have another purpose in coming."

  "The favor."

  She laughed. "Good one. A question posed in the form of a statement. You will, of course, not be surprised when I do not indulge you. Go now, warrior. Go to your female. Let us hope she is a good choice for you."

  The figure turned and moved away.

  "Scribe Virgin?"

  "We are through."

  "Thank you."

  She paused by the fountain.

  Black folds shifted as she reached out to the tumbling water. When the silk fell back, a blinding light was revealed, as if her bones glowed and her skin were translucent. The moment she touched the water, a rainbow sprang from the contact, filling the white courtyard.

  Wrath hissed in shock as his vision suddenly cleared. The courtyard, the columns, the colors, her, all of it came into sharp focus. He latched onto the rainbow. Yellow, orange, red, violet, blue, green. The jewellike colors were so brilliant, they sliced through the air, and yet their vivid beauty didn't hurt him. He drank in the sight, wrapped his mind around it, held on to it.

  The Scribe Virgin faced him, dropping her hand. Instantly, the colors vanished and his vision faded again.

  She'd given him a small gift, he realized. Just as she'd put the ring in his hand for Beth.

  "You are right," she said softly. "I had hoped to be closer to you. Your father and I, we were bonded, and these lonely centuries have been long and hard. No one worshiping, no one chanting, no history to be kept. I am useless. Forgotten.

  "But far worse," she went on, "I see the future, and it is grim. The survival of the race is not ensured. You will not be able to do this alone, warrior."

  "I'll learn to ask for help."

  She nodded. "We will start anew, you and I. And we will work together, as it should be."

  "As it should be," he murmured, trying out the words.

  "I will come to you and your brothers tonight
," she said. "And the ceremony will be performed accordingly. We will set you into a covenant that is right, warrior, and we will do it in the right way. Assuming the female will have you."

  He had a feeling the Scribe Virgin was smiling.

  "My father told me your name," he said. "I would use it, if you wish."

  "Do."

  "We'll see you then, Analisse. And the preparations will be made."

  * * *

  Chapter Forty

  Mr. X watched Billy Riddle walk into the office. Riddle was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, looking tanned, healthy, strong.

  Strapping, to use an old-fashioned word from Mr. X's youth.

  "Sensei." Billy bowed his head.

  "How are you doing, son?"

  "I've thought it over."

  Mr. X waited for the answer, surprised by how much he cared about what it was going to be.

  "I want to work for you."

  Mr. X smiled. "That's good, son. That's real good."

  "So what do I have to do? Are there papers I have to fill out for the academy?"

  "It's a bit more involved than that. And the academy isn't really going to be your employer."

  "But I thought you said—"

  "Billy, there are a few more things you're going to have to understand. And there's the little detail of an initiation."

  "You mean hazing? Because that's no problem. I've been through a couple already. For football."

  "It's a little more hard-core than that, I'm afraid. But don't worry, I got through it and I know you'll do fine. I'll tell you what you have to bring with you, and I'll be by your side. The whole time."

  After all, watching the Omega go to work was not something to be missed.

  "Sensei, I, ah…" Riddle cleared his throat. "I just want you to know, I'm not going to let you down."

  Mr. X smiled slowly, thinking this was the very best part of his job.

  He stood up and approached Billy. Putting a hand on Riddle's shoulder, he squeezed the bones and stared into the wide blue eyes that met his.

  Billy slipped nicely into a trance.

  Mr. X leaned forward and carefully removed Riddle's diamond earring. Then he took the soft lobe between his thumb and forefinger, massaging it.

  His voice was low and quiet.

  "I want you to call and tell your father that you are moving out, effective immediately. Tell him that you've found a job and that you are going into an intensive training program."

  Mr. X took off Riddle's stainless-steel Rolex and then pulled the collar of the guy's shirt open. He reached inside, following the platinum chain Billy wore around to the back. He released the necklace, sliding the links free until he captured them in his palm. The metal was warm from lying against skin.

  "When you speak with your father, you will remain calm no matter what he says to you. You will reassure him that your future is a promising one and that you have been chosen out of many applicants for a very important role. You will tell him that he may always reach you on your cell phone, but that it will be impossible for him to see you, as you will be traveling."

  Mr. X ran his hand over Billy's chest, feeling the pads of muscle, the warmth of life, the hum of youth. Such power in this body, he thought. Such marvelous force.

  "You will not mention the academy. You will not reveal my identity. And you will not tell him that you are coming to live with me." Mr. X spoke right into Billy's ear. "You will tell your father that you are sorry for all the evil things you did. You will tell him that you love him. And then I will pick you up and take you away."

  As Billy breathed deeply in peaceful surrender, Mr. X remembered his own induction ceremony. For a brief, passing instant, he wished that he'd thought more carefully about the offer he'd accepted decades ago.

  He'd be an old man now. An old man with grandchildren, maybe, if he'd ever found a woman he could have stood to be around for any length of time. And he would have had an average life, maybe worked at one of the paper mills or at a gas station. He would have been one of a hundred million other anonymous men who were bitched at by their wives and who drank with their buddies and who passed their precious days in a haze of ambient dissatisfaction because they were nothing special.

  But he would have been alive.

  Looking into Billy's vivid blue eyes, Mr. X wondered whether he had in fact come out on the money side of the exchange. Because he was no longer his own man. He was a servant of the Omega's whims. The top servant, as it were, but a servant nonetheless.

  And he would never be mourned.

  Either because he never stopped breathing… or because no one would miss him after he took his last lungful.

  He frowned.

  Not that any of that mattered, however, because there was no going back. Which was something Riddle was going to learn firsthand tonight.

  Mr. X released Riddle's mind and body.

  "So are we clear?" he said softly.

  Billy nodded, dazed. He looked down at himself, as if wondering what had happened.

  "Good, now give me your cell phone." After Billy had handed the thing over, Mr. X smiled. "What do you say to me, son?"

  "Yes, sensei."

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-one

  Beth woke up in Wrath's bed. Sometime during the day, he must have come and carried her to his chamber.

  His chest was against her back. His arm was snaked around her body. His hand was between her legs.

  His erection, heavy and hot, lay against her hip.

  She rolled over. His eyes were shut, his breathing deep and slow. She smiled, thinking that even in his sleep, he wanted her.

  "I love you," she whispered.

  His lids flipped open. It was like getting hit with spotlights.

  "What, leelan? Are you all right?" And then he snatched his hand back, as if he had just realized where it was. "Sorry. I, ah… You're probably not ready to… so soon after…"

  She took his hand and guided it between her thighs, pressing his fingers against herself.

  His fangs came down on his lower lip as he took a sharp breath.

  "I'm more than ready for you," she murmured, taking his thick length into her palm.

  When he moaned and moved toward her, she actually felt his heart beating, his blood rushing, his lungs as they filled. It was the oddest thing. She could sense exactly how much he wanted her, and not just because she was stroking his arousal.

  And when he moved his fingers, sliding into her, her own body responded, and she could feel him getting even more turned on. Each kiss, each caress, every lick and shiver, was magnified.

  Wrath forced them to take it slowly. When she would have straddled him, he put her on her back and pleasured her even though his own body was raging for a release. He was so gentle with her, so loving.

  Finally, he was poised over her open thighs, his great arms supporting his weight above her. His long dark hair fell around her, mingling with her own.

  "I wish I could see your face clearly," he said, frowning as if trying to focus his eyes. "Just once, I wish…"

  She put her hands on his cheeks, feeling the rough stubble of his beard growth.

  "I'll tell you what you'd see," she murmured. "I love you. That's what you'd see."

  He closed his eyes and smiled. The expression transformed his face. He glowed.

  "Ah, leelan, you please me no end."

  He kissed her. And slowly entered her body with his. When he had filled her, stretched her out, joined them completely, he became still. He spoke in his language and then hers.

  The "I love you, wife" made her beam back at him.

  Butch flopped around, half-awake. The bed wasn't his. The thing was a twin, not a king. And the pillows weren't his. They were supersoft, as if his head were on Wonder bread. Sheets were likewise way too fine.

  But the snoring beside him really confirmed it. He was definitely not at home.

  He opened his eyes. Thick draperies were down
over the windows, but the glow from a light in the bathroom was enough for him to see some things. The room was decked out in high-class everything. Antiques, paintings, fancy-schmancy wallpaper.

  He looked to the snoring. In the other twin bed, a man was sound asleep, dark head buried in a pillow, sheets and blankets pulled up to his chin.

  Everything came back.

  Vishous. His new buddy.

  Fellow Red Sox fan. Wicked smart IT guy.

  Fricking vampire.

  Butch put a hand to his forehead. There'd been many times that he'd rolled over and been unnerved by who was next to him.

  But this was a goddamned chart topper.

  How'd they… That's right. They'd crashed after kicking Tohr's bottle of Scotch.

  Tohr. Short for Tohrment.

  God, he even knew their names. Rhage. Phury. And that scary-ass Zsadist guy.

  Yeah, no Tom, Dick, and Harry names for the vampire types.

  But come on, could you actually imagine some lethal bloodsucker named Howard? Eugene?

  Oh, no, Wallie, please don't bite my—

  Holy Christ, he was totally losing it.

  What time was it?

  "Yo, cop, what time is it?" Vishous asked, groggy.

  Butch reached for the bedside table. Next to his watch was a Red Sox hat, a gold lighter, and a black driving glove.

  "Five thirty."

  "Cool." The vampire rolled away. "Don't crack the drapes for another two hours. Or I'm up in flames and my brothers will leave you shitting in a bag."

  Butch smiled. Vampires or not, he understood these guys. They spoke his language. Related to the world like he did. He felt comfortable around them.

  It was damn eerie.

  "You're smiling," Vishous said.

  "How'd you know?"

  "I'm damn handy with emotions. You one of those annoying, cheerful-in-the-morning types?"

  "Hell, no. And this isn't morning."

  "It is to me, cop." Vishous turned onto his side and looked at Butch. "You know, you handled yourself last night. Don't know many humans who would have taken on Rhage or me. Much less in front of all the brothers."

  "Ah, now, don't get all mushy on me. We ain't dating." Except the truth was, Butch was kind of moved by the respect.