by J. R. Ward
"Friends?" she said.
"Yeah… I mean, I wouldn't disgrace you by asking for more than that. I know that you regret… Anyway, I just couldn't let you go without… Yeah, so… friends."
Holy… Moses. He'd come looking for her. With the intent of coming back and reaching out to her.
Man, this was completely outside any scenario she'd imagined as she'd prepared to talk to him.
"I… What are you saying, Zsadist?" she stammered, even though she'd heard every word.
He glanced back down at the pencil in his hand and then turned to the table. Flipping the spiral notebook to a new page, he bent way over and labored on top of the paper for quite a while. Then he ripped the sheet free.
His hand was shaking as he held it out. "It's messy."
Bella took the paper. In a child's uneven block letters there were three words:
I LOVE YOU
Her lips flattened tight as her eyes stung. The handwriting got wavy and then disappeared.
"Maybe you can't read it," he said in a small voice. "I can do it over."
She shook her head. "I can read it just fine. It's… beautiful."
"I don't expect anything back. I mean… I know that you don't… feel that for me anymore. But I wanted you to know. It's important that you knew. And if there's any chance we could be together… I can't stop my job with the Brotherhood. But I can promise that I'll be so much more careful with myself—" He frowned and stopped talking. "Shit. What am I saying? I promised myself I wouldn't put you in this position—"
She crushed the paper to her heart, then launched herself at him, hitting his chest so hard he stumbled back. As his arms came around her with hesitation, as if he didn't have any idea what she was doing or why, she wept openly.
In all her preparations for this meeting, the one thing she had never considered was that the two of them might have some sort of future.
When he tilted up her chin and looked down at her she tried to smile, but the crazy hope she felt was too heavy and joyous a burden.
"I didn't mean to make you cry—"
"Oh, God… Zsadist, I love you."
His eyes flared so wide, his brows nearly hit his hairline. "What…?"
"I love you."
"Say that again."
"I love you."
"Again… please," he whispered. "I need to hear it… again."
"I love you…"
His response was to start praying to the Scribe Virgin in the Old Language.
Holding Bella tight, burying his face in her hair, he gave thanks with such eloquence she started to weep all over again.
When the last laudation had been murmured he switched back into English. "I was dead until you found me, though I breathed. I was sightless, though I could see. And then you came… and I was awakened."
She touched his face. In slow motion he closed the distance between their mouths, pressing the softest of kisses on her lips.
How sweetly he came to her, she thought. Even with his bulk and his power, he came to her… sweetly.
Then he pulled back. "But wait, why are you here? I mean, I'm glad you—"
"I'm having your young."
He frowned. Opened his mouth. Shut it and shook his head. "I'm sorry… what did you say?"
"I carry your young." This time there was no response from him at all. "You're going to be a father." Still nothing. "I'm pregnant."
Okay, she was running out of ways to tell him. God—what if he didn't want this?
Zsadist started to sway in his shitkickers and the blood ran out of his face. "You carry my young within you?"
"Yes. I'm—"
Suddenly he gripped her arms hard. "Are you all right? Did Havers say you're all right?"
"So far. I'm a little young, but maybe that'll work to my advantage when the time to deliver comes. Havers said the baby is well and I'm under no restrictions… well, except I'm not allowed to dematerialize after my sixth month. And, ah…" Blushing… she was seriously blushing now. "I won't be able to have sex or be fed from after the fourteenth one until the birth. Which should be around month eighteen."
When the doctor had given her those warnings, she'd thought she'd never have to worry about either of those things. But maybe now…
Zsadist was nodding, but he really didn't look well. "I can take care of you."
"I know you will. And you're going to keep me safe." She said this because she knew he would worry about that.
"You will stay here with me?"
She smiled. "I would love to."
"Will you mate me?"
"Are you asking?"
"Yes."
Except he still looked green. He was literally the color of mint ice cream. And these rote words of his were beginning to freak her out. "Zsadist… are you okay about this? Um… you don't have to mate me, if you don't—"
"Where is your brother?"
The question startled her. "Rehvenge? Ah… home, I guess."
"We go to him. Now." Zsadist took her hand and dragged her out into the foyer.
"Zsadist—"
"We will get his consent and we will be mated this night. And we will go in V's car. I don't want you dematerializing again."
Zsadist was pulling her to the door so fast, she was having to run. "Wait, Havers said I could until month—"
"I don't want to take any chances."
"Zsadist, that's not necessary."
Suddenly he stopped. "Are you sure you want my young?"
"Oh, yes. Oh, dear Virgin, yes. Even more now…" She smiled up at him. Took his hand. Placed it on her lower belly. "You're going to be a wonderful father."
And that was when he fell over in a dead faint.
Zsadist opened his eyes to find Bella looking down at him with love shining out of her face. All around his periphery there were other members of the household, but she was the only one he saw.
"Hi, there," she said softly.
He reached up and touched her face. He was not going to cry. He was not—
Oh, to hell with it.
He smiled up at her as the tears started rolling. "I hope… I hope it's a little girl who looks just like—"
His voice cut out. And then, yeah, like a complete flipping nancy, he broke down totally and wept like an idiot. In front of all the Brothers. And Butch. And Beth. And Mary. He was no doubt horrifying Bella with his weakness, but he couldn't help himself. This was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt… blessed. Fortunate. Lucky. This moment, this perfect, shimmering moment in time, this one, sublime moment where he was flat on his back in the foyer, with his beloved Bella, and the young inside her, and the Brotherhood around him… this was his very luckiest day.
When his pathetic sobbing dried up, Rhage knelt down, grinning so wide his perfect cheeks were about to split. "We came running when your noggin cracked into the floor. Put 'er there, daddy-o. Can I teach the little bugger how to fight?"
Hollywood held out his hand, and as Zsadist took hold of it to shake, Wrath got down on his haunches. "Congratulations, my brother. May blessings from the Virgin be upon you and your shellan and your young."
By the time Vishous and Butch offered their laudatory words, Z was sitting up. Mopping up. God, he was such a pansy, crying all over himself. Shit. Good thing none of them seemed to mind.
As he took a deep breath, he looked around for Phury… and there his twin was.
In the two months since Phury's night out with that lesser, his hair had already grown down to his jawline, and the scar he'd put on his face was long gone. But his eyes were flat and sad. And they were sadder now, too.
Phury came forward and everyone got quiet.
"I should like to be an uncle," he said quietly. "I'm so happy for you, Z. You too… Bella."
Zsadist grabbed for Phury's palm and squeezed so hard he could feel his twin's bones. "You're going to be a fine uncle."
"And perhaps the ghardian?" Bella volunteered.
Phury bowed his head. "I w
ould be honored to be the young's ghardian."
Fritz bustled in with a silver tray of slender glass flutes. The doggen was glowing and all atwitter with happiness. "To toast the occasion."
Voices mixed and mingled and glasses were passed and laughter sounded. Zsadist looked at Bella as someone put a flute in his hand.
I love you, he mouthed. She smiled back at him and pressed something into his hand. Her necklace.
"You keep this on you always," she whispered. "For good luck."
He kissed her hand. "Always."
Abruptly Wrath rose to his towering height, lifted up his champagne, and tilted back his head. In a tremendous, booming voice, he hollered so loud, you could have sworn the walls of the mansion shook.
"To the young!"
Everyone shot to their feet, raised their glasses, and yelled at the top of their lungs, "To the young!"
Ah, yes… Surely their chorus of voices was bold and deafening enough to carry to the Scribe Virgin's sacred ears. Which was precisely as tradition demanded.
What a true and proper toast, Z thought as he tugged Bella down to kiss her on the mouth.
"To the young!" the household all shouted once more.
"To you," he said against Bella's lips. "Nalla."
CHAPTER 50
"Yeah, well, I could have done without the passing-out part," Z muttered as he pulled into the driveway of the safe house Bella's family was living in. "And that whole bawling-my-eyes-red routine, too. Definitely could have lost that one. Christ."
"I thought you were very sweet."
With a groan he killed the engine, palmed his SIG Sauer, and went around to help her from the Escalade. Damn it. She already had the door open and was stepping out into the snow.
"Wait for me," he barked, grabbing for her arm.
She shot him a level stare. "Zsadist, if you keep treating me like a wineglass, I'm going to go nuts over the next sixteen months."
"Listen, female, I don't want you slipping on this ice. You're wearing high heels."
"Oh, for the love of the Virgin…"
He shut her car door, kissed her quickly, then put his arm around her waist and led her up the front walkway of a big, Tudor-style house. He scanned the snow-covered yard, his trigger finger itchy as hell.
"Zsadist, I want you to put the gun away before you meet my brother."
"No problem. We'll be in the house by then."
"We're not going to get jumped here. We're out in the middle of nowhere."
"If you think I'm taking even the slightest chance with you and my young, you are out of your mind."
He knew he was being overbearing as hell, but he couldn't help it. He was a bonded male. With his pregnant female. There were few things on the planet more aggressive or dangerous. And those bastards were called hurricanes and tornadoes.
Bella didn't argue with him. Instead she smiled and covered the hard hand on her waist with one of her own. "I guess you should be careful what you ask for."
"What do you mean?" He moved her in front of him as they came up to the door, blocking her with his body. He hated the porch light. It made them too conspicuous.
As he turned the thing off with his mind, she laughed, "I always wanted you for a bonded male."
He kissed the side of her neck. "Well, you got your wish. I'm deep bonded. Way deep bonded. Deep, deep, ultra—"
As he leaned forward and hit the brass knocker, his body came into full contact with hers. She made a little purring sound in the back of her throat and rubbed herself against him. He froze.
Oh, God. Oh… no, he was instantly erect. All it had taken was that one little move of hers and he had a big, flipping—
The door swung open. He expected to see a doggen on the other side. Instead there was a tall, slender female with white hair, a long black gown, and a whole lot of diamonds.
Crap. Bella's mother, Z hid the gun in the holster at the small of his back and made sure his double-breasted jacket was buttoned all the way down. Then he linked his hands together right in front of his zipper.
He'd dressed as conservatively as possible, in the first suit he'd ever worn. And he was even plugged into a pair of fancy-dancy loafers. He'd wanted to wear a turtleneck to cover up the slave band at his throat, but Bella had nixed that, and he supposed she was right. There was no hiding what he'd been, and there shouldn't be. Besides, no matter what he was dressed like, and even though he was a member of the Brotherhood, the glymera would never accept him—not just because he'd been used as a blood slave, but because of what he looked like.
Thing was, though, Bella had no use for them, and neither did he. Although he was going to try to put on a polite show for her family.
Bella went forward. "Mahmen."
As she and her mother embraced formally, Z came into the house, shut the door, and looked around. The manse was formal and wealthy, befitting the aristocracy, but he didn't give a shit about the drapes and the wallpaper. What he approved of was the lithium-powered security contacts on all the windows. And the laser receptors in the doorways. And the motion detectors on the ceiling. Huge points for all of that. Huge.
Bella stepped back. She was stiff around her mother, and he could see why. It was clear from the gown and all those sparklers that the female was a hard-core aristocrat. And aristocrats tended to be about as cozy as a snowdrift.
"Mahmen, this is Zsadist. My mate."
Z braced himself as her mother took him in from head to foot. Once. Twice… and yeah, a third time.
Oh, man… This was going to be a really long evening.
Then he wondered if the female knew he'd gotten her daughter pregnant, too.
Bella's mother came forward and he waited for her to reach a hand out. She didn't offer him a thing. Instead her eyes watered.
Great. Now what did he do?
Her mother fell to his feet, her black gown pooling around those fancy loafers he wore. "Warrior, thank you. Thank you for bringing my Bella home."
Zsadist stared at the female for a heartbeat and a half. Then he leaned down and lifted her gently off the floor. As he held her awkwardly, he looked at Bella… who was sporting the kind of expression folks usually reserved for feats of magic. A big what the hell, laced with wonderment.
As her mother stepped away and blotted carefully under her eyes, Bella cleared her throat and asked, "Where's Rehvenge?"
"I'm right here."
The deep voice drifted in from a darkened room, and Zsadist glanced to the left as a huge male with a cane—
Shit. Oh… shit. This was so not happening.
The Reverend. Bella's brother was that mohawked, violet-eyed, hard-ass drug dealer… who, according to Phury, was at least half symphath.
What a flipping nightmare. Technically the Brotherhood should be running his ass out of town. Instead Z was looking to mate into the guy's family. God, did Bella even know what her brother was? And not just the drug-dealer part…
Z glanced at her. Probably not, his instincts told him. On both accounts.
"Rehvenge, this is… Zsadist," she said.
Z looked at the male again. The pair of deep purples staring back at him were unwavering, but beneath the calm there was a flicker of the same kind of holy hell that Z was feeling. Man… exactly how was all this going to play out?
"Rehv?" Bella murmured. "Um… Zsadist?"
The Reverend smiled coolly. "So, are you going to mate my sister now that you've knocked her up? Or is this just a social call?"
The two females let out gasps, and Zsadist felt his eyes flash black. As he pointedly drew Bella to his side, he itched to bare his fangs. He was going to do his best not to embarrass anyone, but if flyboy with the mouth peeled off any more one-liners like that, Z was going to drag Bella's brother outside and beat an apology out of him for upsetting the ladies.
He was damn proud of himself when he only hissed a little. "Yeah, I am going to mate her. You drop the tough act, civilian, and we might invite you to the ceremony. Otherwise
you're off the list."
The Reverend's eyes flared. But then he abruptly laughed. "Easy, there, brother. Just want to make sure my sister is taken care of."
The male put his hand out. Zsadist met the big palm halfway.
"That's brother-in-law, to you. And she will be, don't you worry about that."
EPILOGUE
Twenty months later…
Oh… the agony. This training was going to kill him. Sure, he wanted to get into the Brotherhood, or at least be one of their soldiers, but how could anyone survive this?
As time was finally called, the new pretransition candidate sagged because the class on hand-to-hand was finally over. But he didn't dare show any more weakness than that.
Like all the trainees he was terrified and in awe of their teacher, a great, scarred warrior, a full member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Rumors abounded about the male: that he ate lessers after he killed them; that he murdered females for sport; that his scars were his doing just because he liked pain…
That he'd killed recruits for making mistakes.
"Hit the showers," the warrior said, his deep voice filling the gym. "Bus is waiting for you. We start tomorrow, four sharp. So sleep up good tonight."
The trainee ran out with the others and was grateful to hit the showers. God… At least the rest of his class were just as relieved and sore. They were all like cows at this point, just standing under the spray, barely blinking, stupid from exhaustion.
Thank the good Virgin, he wouldn't have to go back onto those godforsaken blue mats for another sixteen hours.
Except as he went to put on his street clothes, he realized he'd forgotten his sweatshirt. With a cringe he shot down the hall and sneaked back into the gym…
The trainee stopped dead.
The teacher was across the way, shirtless and sparring with a punching bag, his nipple rings flashing as he danced around his target. Dear Virgin in the Fade … He bore the marks of a blood slave, and scars ran all the way down his back. But, man, he could move. He had incredible strength and agility and power. Deadly. Very deadly. Totally deadly.
