by J. R. Ward
"You're going to tell me eventually," he murmured. "But take your time. I'm not in a big hurry right now."
His hips left her briefly, returning as his thigh pushed between her legs and brushed against her core. The hand at the base of her neck swept down to her sternum, coming to rest between her breasts.
"Your heart is beating fast, Mary."
"Th-that's because I'm frightened."
"Fear isn't the only thing you're feeling. Why don't you check out what your hands are up to?"
Shoot. They were high on his biceps. And they were gripping him, pulling him closer. Her nails were digging into his skin.
When she let go of him, he frowned. "I like the way that feels. Don't stop."
The door opened behind them.
"Mary? Are you oka—Oh… my God." Bella's words trailed off.
Mary braced herself as the man twisted his torso and looked at Bella. His eyes squinted, flicked up and down, and then came back to Mary.
"Your friend's worried about you," he said softly. "You can tell her she shouldn't be."
Mary tried to get loose and wasn't surprised when he mastered the jerky movements easily.
"I have an idea," she muttered. "Why don't you let me go, and then I won't have to reassure her?"
A dry male voice cut through the hall. "Rhage, that female wasn't brought here for your pleasure, and this isn't One Eye, my brother. No sex in the hall."
Mary tried to turn her head, but the hand between her breasts slid up her throat and took her chin, stopping her. Teal blue eyes bored into hers.
"I'm going to ignore them both. If you do the same, we can make them disappear."
"Rhage, let her go." A sharp torrent of words followed, spoken in a language she didn't understand.
While the tirade went on, the blond's brilliant gaze stayed on her, his thumb running gently back and forth along her jaw. He was lazy, affectionate, but when he replied to the other man, his voice was hard and aggressive, as powerful as his body. Another series of words came back, this time less combative. Like the other guy was trying to reason with him.
Abruptly the blond let her go and stepped back. The absence of his warm, heavy body was a curious shock.
"See you later, Mary." He brushed her cheek with his forefinger and then turned from her.
Feeling weak in the knees, she sagged against the wall as he staggered away, steadying himself by throwing his arm out to the side.
God, when he'd had her at his mercy, she'd forgotten he was ill.
"Where's the boy?" the other male voice demanded.
Mary looked to her left. The guy was big and dressed in black leather, with a military haircut and a shrewd pair of navy-blue eyes.
A soldier, she thought, somehow put at ease by him.
"The boy?" he prompted.
"John's in there," Bella replied.
"Then let's get to it."
The man opened the door and leaned against it so she and Bella had to squeeze past him. He paid no attention to them as they went by, but stared at John instead. John looked right back at him, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to place the soldier.
When they were all sitting at the table, the man nodded to Bella. "You were the one who called."
"Yes. And this is Mary Luce. And John. John Matthew."
"I'm Tohrment." He refocused on John. "How you doing, son?"
John signed, and Mary had to clear her throat before translating. "He says, 'Fine, sir. How are you? »
"I'm all right." The man smiled a little and then glanced at Bella. "I want you to wait in the hall. I'll talk to you after I speak with him."
Bella hesitated.
"That isn't a request," he said in a level voice.
After Bella left, the guy turned his chair toward John, leaned back in it, and kicked his long legs out. "So tell me, son, where did you grow up?"
John moved his hands, and Mary said, "Here in town. First in an orphanage, then with a couple sets of foster parents."
"You know anything about your mom or dad?"
John shook his head.
"Bella told me you had a bracelet with some designs on it. Would you show it to me?"
John pulled up his sleeve and extended his arm. The man's hand engulfed the boy's wrist.
"That's real nice, son. You make it?"
John nodded.
"And where'd you get the idea for the design?"
John extracted himself from the soldier's grip and started to sign. When he stopped, Mary said, "He dreams of the pattern."
"Yeah? Mind if I ask what your dreams are like?" The man returned to his casual pose in the chair, but his eyes were narrow.
Screw martial-arts training, Mary thought. This wasn't about some karate lessons. This was an interrogation.
As John hesitated, she wanted to grab the kid and march out, but she had a feeling the boy would fight her. He was utterly absorbed by the man, intense and intent.
"It's all right, son. Whatever it is, it's okay."
John lifted his hands, and Mary spoke as he signed.
"Er… he's in a dark place. Kneeling in front of an altar. Behind it, he sees writing on the wall, hundreds of lines of writing in black stone—John, wait, slow down. I can't translate when you go so fast." Mary concentrated on the boy's hands. "He says in the dream he keeps going over and touching a strip of writing that looks like this."
The man frowned.
When John looked down, as if embarrassed, the soldier said, "Don't you worry, son, we're cool. Is there anything else you can think of about yourself that strikes you as odd? Things that maybe make you different from other folks?"
Mary shifted in her chair, really uncomfortable with the way things were going. John was clearly going to answer any question put to him, but for God's sake, they didn't know who this man was. And Bella, though she'd made the introduction, had been obviously uncomfortable.
Mary lifted her hands, about to sign a warning to John, when the kid unbuttoned his shirt. He opened one side, flashing a circular scar above his left pectoral.
The man leaned forward, studied the marking, and then moved back. "Where did you get that?"
The boy's hands flew around in front of him.
"He says he was born with it."
"Is there anything else?" the man asked.
John glanced over at Mary. He took a deep breath and signed, I dream of blood. Of fangs. Of… biting.
Mary felt her eyes widen before she could stop herself.
John looked at her anxiously. Don't worry, Mary. I'm not a sicko or anything. I was terrified when the dreams first came to me, and it's not like I can control what my brain does, you know.
"Yeah, I know," she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand.
"What did he say?" the man asked.
"That last part was meant for me."
She inhaled deeply. And went back to translating.
CHAPTER 9
Bella leaned back against the wall in the corridor and started braiding pieces of her hair, something she did when she was nervous.
She'd heard members of the Brotherhood were almost a separate species, but she'd never thought that was true. Until now. Those two males were not just colossal on a physical scale; they radiated dominance and aggression. Hell, they made her brother look like an amateur in the hard-ass department, and Rehvenge was the toughest thing she'd ever come across.
Dear God, what had she done in bringing Mary and John here? She was a little less concerned for the boy, but what about Mary? The way that blond warrior had acted around her was flat-out trouble. You could have boiled an ocean with the kind of lust he'd thrown off, and members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood were not used to being denied. From what she'd heard, when they wanted a female, they took her.
Thankfully, they weren't known to rape, although going by what she'd seen just now, they wouldn't have to. Those warrior's bodies were made for sex. Mating with one of them, being possessed by all that strength, would be an extr
aordinary experience.
Although Mary, as a human, might very well not feel that way.
Bella looked up and down the hall, restless, tense. There was no one around, and if she had to stand still any longer she was going to have a headful of cornrows. She shook out her hair, picked a random direction, and meandered. When she caught the sound of a rhythmic pounding in the distance, she followed the thumping to a pair of metal doors. She opened one side and walked through.
The gymnasium was the size of a pro-basketball court, its wooden floor varnished to a high gloss. Bright blue mats were laid out here and there and caged fluorescent lights dangled from the high ceiling. A balcony with stadium seating jutted out on the left, and beneath the overhang, a series of punching bags was strung up.
A magnificent male was beating the crap out of one of them, his back to her. Dancing on the balls of his feet, light as a breeze, he threw punch after punch, ducking, hitting, driving the heavy bag forward with his force so the thing hung at an angle.
She couldn't see his face, but he had to be attractive. His skull-trimmed hair was light brown, and he wore a skintight black turtleneck and a pair of loose black nylon workout pants. A holster crisscrossed over his broad back.
The door clicked shut behind her.
With a swipe of his arm, the male whipped a black-bladed dagger out and buried it into the bag. He ripped the thing open, sand and padding pouring down in a rush onto the mat. And then he spun around.
Bella clapped a hand over her mouth. His face was scarred, as if someone had tried to cut it in half with a knife. The thick line started at his forehead, went down the bridge of his nose, and curved over his cheek. It ended at the side of his mouth, distorting his upper lip.
Narrowed eyes, black and cold as night, took her in and then widened ever so slightly. He seemed nonplussed, his big body unmoving save for the deep breaths he took.
The male wanted her, she thought And was unsure what to do about it.
Except just like that, the speculation and odd confusion were buried. What took their place was an icy anger that scared the hell out of her. Keeping her eyes on him, she backed into the door and pumped the release bar. When she got nowhere, she had a feeling he was trapping her inside.
The male watched her struggle for a moment and then came after her. As he stalked across the mats, he flipped his dagger into the air and caught it by the handle. Flipped it up, snatched it back. Up and down.
"Don't know what you're doing here," he said in a low voice. "Other than fucking up my workout."
As those eyes went over her face and body, his hostility was palpable, but he was also throwing off raw heat, a kind of sexual menace she really shouldn't have been captivated by.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know…"
"Didn't know what, female?"
God, he was so close now. And he was so much bigger than her.
She flattened herself against the door. "I'm sorry—"
The male punched his hands into the metal on either side of her head. She eyed the knife he was holding, but then forgot all about the weapon as he leaned into her. He stopped just before their bodies touched.
Bella took a deep breath, smelling him. His scent was more like a fire in her nose than anything she could name. And she responded to it, warming, wanting.
"You're sorry," he said, titling his head to the side and focusing on her neck. When he smiled, his fangs were long and very white. "Yeah, I bet you are."
"I am very sorry."
"So prove it."
"How?" she croaked.
"Get on your hands and knees. I'll take your apology from there."
A door on the other side of the gymnasium burst open.
"Oh, Christ… Let her go!" Another male, this one with a long head of hair, jogged across the vast floor. "Hands off, Z. Right now."
The scarred male leaned down to her, putting that misshapen mouth close to her ear. Something pressed into her sternum, over her heart. His fingertip.
"You just got saved, female."
He stepped around her and went out the door, just as the other male came up to her.
"Are you okay?"
Bella eyed the decimated punching bag. She couldn't seem to breathe, although whether that was from fear or something altogether sexual, she wasn't sure. Probably a combination of both.
"Yes, I think so. Who was that?"
The male opened the door and led her back to the interrogation room without answering her question. "Do yourself a favor and stay here, okay?"
Good advice, she thought, as she was left by herself.
CHAPTER 10
Rhage came awake with a jolt. As he looked at the clock on his bedside table, he was psyched when he could focus his eyes and read the thing. Then pissed off when he saw what time it was.
Where the hell was Tohr? He'd promised to call as soon as he was done with the human female, but that had been more than six hours ago.
Rhage reached for the phone and dialed Tohr's cell. When he got voice mail, he cursed and hung up.
As he got out of bed, he stretched carefully. He was sore and sick to his stomach, but able to move a lot better. A quick shower and a fresh set of leathers had him feeling even more himself, and he headed for Wrath's study. Dawn was coming soon, and if Tohr wasn't answering his phone, he was probably doing a download to the king before he went home.
The room's double doors were open, and lo and behold, Tohrment was wearing a track in the Aubusson carpet, pacing while talking to Wrath.
"Just who I was looking for," Rhage drawled.
Tohr glanced over. "I was coming to your room next."
"Sure you were. What's doing, Wrath?"
The Blind King smiled. "Glad to see you're getting back to fighting form, Hollywood."
"Oh, I'm ready, all right." Rhage stared at Tohr. "You got something to tell me?"
"Not really."
"You're saying you don't know where the human lives?"
"I don't know if you need to go see her, how about that?"
Wrath leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. His enormous shitkickers made the delicate thing look like a footstool.
He smiled. "One of you steakheads want to bring me up to speed?"
"Private biz," Rhage murmured. "Nothing special."
"The hell it is." Tohr turned to Wrath. "Our boy over here seems to want to get to know the kid's human translator better."
Wrath shook his head. "Oh, no, you don't, Hollywood. Lie down with some other female. God knows, there's enough of them out there for you." He nodded at Tohr. "As I was saying, I've got no objection to the boy joining the first class of trainees, provided you verify his background. And that human needs to be checked out, too. If the kid disappears all of a sudden, I don't want her causing trouble."
"I'll take care of her," Rhage said. When they both gave him a look, he shrugged. "Either you let me or I'll follow whoever does. One way or the other, I will find that female."
Tohr's brows turned his forehead into a plow field. "Will you back off, my brother? Assuming the boy comes here, there's too close a connection with that human. Just drop it."
"Sorry. I want her."
"Christ. You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that? No impulse control, but totally single-minded. Helluva combination."
"Look, one way or the other, I'm going to have her. Now do you want me to check her out while I do it or not?"
When Tohr rubbed his eyes, and Wrath cursed, Rhage knew he'd won.
"Fine," Tohr muttered. "Find out her background and her connection to the kid and then do what you will with her. But at the end of it, you strip her memories and you don't see her again. Do you hear me? You wipe yourself out of her when you're finished and you do not see her again."
"Deal."
Tohr flipped open his cell and punched a few buttons. "I'm text-messaging the human's number to you."
"And her friend's."
"You're going to do her, too?"
Bella was getting into bed for the day when the phone rang. She picked it up, hoping it wasn't her brother. She hated when he checked to make sure she was at home when night receded. Like she might be out screwing males or something.
"Hello?" she said.
"You will call Mary and you will tell her to meet me tonight for dinner."
Bella bolted upright. The blond warrior.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes… but what do you want with her?" As if she didn't already know.
"Call her now. Tell her that I am a friend of yours and she'll enjoy herself. It will be better that way."
"Better than what?"
"My breaking into her house to get to her. Which is what I'll do, if I have to."
Bella closed her eyes and saw Mary against that wall, the male looming over her as he held her in place. He was coming after her for one and only one reason: to release all that sex in his body. Release it into her.
"Oh, God… please don't hurt her. She's not one of us. And she's ill."
"I know. I'm not going to harm her."
Bella put her head in her hand, wondering just how a hard male like him would know what hurt and what didn't.
"Warrior… she doesn't know about our race. She's—I beg you, don't—"
"She won't remember me after it's done."
Like that was supposed to make her feel less awful? As it was, she felt like she was serving Mary up on a platter.
"You can't stop me, female. But you can make it easier on your friend. Think about it. She'll feel safer if she meets me in a public place. She won't know what I am. It will be as normal as it can be for her."
Bella hated being pushed around, hated the sense that she was betraying Mary's friendship.
"I wish I'd never brought her along," she muttered.
"I don't." There was a pause. "She has an… unusual way about her."
"What if she denies you?"
"She won't."
"But if she does?"
"That's her choice. She won't be forced. I swear to you."
Bella let her hand drop to her throat, tangling a finger in the Diamonds by the Yard chain she always wore.
