by J. R. Ward
There was a long silence. "Jesus… I'm sorry. I didn't know. I had no idea—"
"Yeah, ah…" He really needed to stop this conversation. "Look, I gotta go. I gotta… go. Later."
"No, wait, Rhage—"
Rhage turned his phone off and pulled over to the side of the road. As he looked around, he realized he was out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the forest for company. He put his head down on the steering wheel.
Visions of Mary came to him. And he realized he'd neglected to scrub her memories.
Neglected? Yeah, right. He hadn't cleaned her out because he wanted to see her again. And he wanted her to remember him.
Oh, man… This was bad stuff. All the way around.
CHAPTER 14
Mary flopped over in bed and pushed the covers and blankets off with her feet. Half-asleep, she splayed her legs out to try to cool down.
Damn it, had she left the thermostat on too high—
Horrible suspicion shot her into consciousness, her mind coming to attention on a wave of dread.
Low-grade fever. She had a low-grade fever.
Oh, hell… She knew the feel of it too well, the flush, the dry heat, the joint aches. And the clock said 4:18 A.M. Which, when she'd been sick before, was about the time her temperature liked to flare up.
Reaching overhead, she cracked open the window behind her bed. Cold air took the invitation to heart and rushed inside, cooling her, calming her. The fever broke soon afterward, a sheen of sweat announcing its retreat.
Maybe she was just coming down with a cold. People with her medical history did get normal sicknesses like the rest of the world. Really.
Except either way, rhinovirus or recurrence, there'd be no going back to sleep. She pulled a fleece on over her T-shirt and boxers and went downstairs. On her way to the kitchen, she turned on every light switch she passed until all the dark corners in the house were illuminated.
Destination: her coffeepot. There was no question that answering some office e-mail and getting ready for the break of the Columbus Day long weekend was better than lying in bed and counting the time before her doctor's appointment.
Which was in five and a half hours, by the way.
God, she hated the waiting.
She filled the Krups machine with water and went into the cupboard for the coffee can. It was nearly empty, so she took out her backup supply and the handheld can opener and—
She was not alone.
Mary leaned forward, looking out the window above the sink. With no exterior lights on she couldn't see anything, so she went around to the slider and flipped the switch next to the door.
"Good Lord!"
A massive black shape was on the other side of the glass.
Mary scrambled for the phone, but stopped when she saw the flash of blond hair.
Hal lifted his hand in greeting.
"Hey." His voice was muffled through the glass.
Mary wrapped her arms around her stomach. "What are you doing here?"
His wide shoulders shrugged. "Wanted to see you."
"Why? And why now?
Another shrug. "Seemed like a good idea."
"Are you deranged?"
"Yes."
She almost smiled. And then reminded herself that she had no close neighbors and he was practically the size of her house.
"How did you find me?" Maybe Bella had told him where she lived.
"Can I come in? Or maybe you could come out, if you'd feel more comfortable that way?"
"Hal, it's four thirty in the morning."
"I know. But you're awake and so am I."
God, he was so big in all that black leather, and with his face mostly in shadow he was more menacing than beautiful.
And she was actually considering opening the door? Clearly she was also deranged.
"Look, Hal, I don't think it's a good idea."
He stared at her through the glass. "Maybe we can just talk this way, then?"
Mary stared at him, dumbfounded. The guy was willing to hang around, locked out of her house like a criminal, just so they could chat?
"Hal, no offense, but there are about a hundred thousand women in this zip code who would not only let you into their homes, but would take you to bed. Why don't you go find one of them and leave me alone?"
"They aren't you."
The darkness falling across his face made his eyes impossible to read. But his tone of voice was so damn sincere.
In the long pause that followed, she tried to convince herself not to let him inside.
"Mary, if I wanted to hurt you, I could do it in an instant. You could lock every door and every window and I'd still get inside. All I want is… to talk to you some more."
She eyed the width of his shoulders. He had a point about the breaking and entering. And she had a feeling that if she told him the best she could do was a closed door between them, he would pull up one of her lawn chairs and sit down on the terrace.
She unlatched the slider, opened it, and stepped back. "Just explain something to me."
He smiled tightly as he came in. "Shoot."
"Why aren't you with a woman who wants you?" Hal flinched. "What I mean is, those women tonight at the restaurant, they were all over you. Why aren't you having—"crazy hot sex—"er… fun with one of them?"
"I'd rather be here talking with you than inside one of those females."
She recoiled a little at his candor, and then realized he wasn't being crude, just bluntly honest.
Well, at least she had one thing right: When he'd walked away after that soft kiss, she'd assumed it was because he hadn't felt any heat. Evidently she'd hit the nail on the head. He wasn't here for sex, and she told herself it was good he didn't lust after her. Almost believed it, too.
"I was about to make some coffee, would you like some?"
He nodded and started wandering around the living room, taking note of her things. Against all of her white furniture and cream walls, his black clothes and heavy build were ominous, but then she looked at his face. He was wearing a silly little grin, as if he were happy just to be inside her house. Kind of like an animal who'd been chained in the yard and finally allowed indoors.
"You want to take off your coat?" she said.
He slid the leather from his shoulders and tossed it over to her sofa. The thing landed with a dull thump, crushing the cushions.
What the hell was in those pockets? she wondered.
But then she looked at his body and forgot all about the stupid coat. He was wearing a black T-shirt that showed off a powerful set of arms. His chest was wide and well defined, his stomach tight enough so she could see his six-pack even through the shirt. His legs were long, his thighs thick—
"Do you like what you see?" he asked in a low, quiet voice.
Yeah, right. She was so not answering that one.
She headed for the kitchen. "How strong do you like your coffee?"
Picking up the can opener, she pierced the Hills Bros lid and started cranking like there was no tomorrow. The top fell loose into the grounds and she reached inside to pick it out.
"I asked you a question," he said, right next to her ear.
She jerked and sliced her thumb open on the metal. With a groan, she brought her hand up and looked at the cut. It was deep, bleeding.
Hal cursed. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"I'll live."
She turned on the faucet, but before she could get her hand under the rush he gripped her wrist.
"Let me see." Without giving her a chance to protest, he bent down over her finger. "That's a bad one."
He put her thumb in his mouth and sucked gently.
Mary gasped. The warm, wet, pulling sensation paralyzed her. And then she felt the sweep of his tongue. When he released her, she could only stare at him.
"Oh… Mary," he said sadly.
She was too shocked to wonder about his change of mood. "You shouldn't have done that."
"Why?"<
br />
Because it felt so good. "How do you know I don't have HIV or something?"
His shoulders lifted. "Wouldn't matter if you did."
She paled, thinking he was positive and she'd just let him put an open cut into his mouth.
"And no, Mary, I don't have the disease."
"Then why wouldn't it—"
"I just wanted to make it better. See? No more bleeding."
She looked down at her thumb. The cut was sealed up. Partially healed. How the hell—
"Now are you going to answer me?" Hal said, as if deliberately cutting off the questions she was about to ask.
As she glanced up, she noticed his eyes were doing that glow thing, the teal blue taking on an otherworldly, hypnotic sheen.
"What was the question?" she murmured.
"Does my body please you?"
She tightened her lips. Man, if he got off on hearing women say he was beautiful, he was going home disappointed.
"And what would you do if it didn't?" she shot back.
"I would cover myself."
"Yeah, right."
He cocked his head to the side, as if thinking he'd read her wrong. Then he headed out to the living room where his coat was.
Good lord, he was serious.
"Hal, come back. You don't have to… I, ah, I like your body just fine."
He smiled as he returned to her. "I'm glad. I want to please you."
Fine, dandy, she thought. Then lose the shirt, peel off those leather pants, and lie down on my tile. We'll take turns being on the bottom.
Cursing herself, she went back to making the coffee. As she spooned grounds into the machine, she could feel Hal looking at her. And hear him take deep breaths, as if he were smelling her. And sensed he was… inching nearer all the time.
The forerunners of panic threaded through her body. He was too close. Too big. Too… beautiful. And the heat and lust he called out of her were too powerful.
When the pot was on, she backed away from him.
"Why don't you want me to please you?" he said.
"Stop using that word." Because when he said please, all she could think about was sex.
"Mary." His voice was deep, resonant. Penetrating. "I want to—"
She covered her ears. Suddenly there was way too much of him in her house. In her head.
"This was a bad idea. I think you should go."
She felt a big hand land lightly on her shoulder.
Mary stepped out of his reach, choking up. He was health and vitality and raw sex and a hundred other things she couldn't have. He was so totally alive, and she was… most likely sick again.
Mary went over to the slider and opened it. "Leave, okay? Please just leave."
"I don't want to."
"Get out. Please." But he merely stared at her. "Christ, you're like a stray dog I can't get rid of. Why don't you go pester someone else?"
Hal's powerful body stiffened. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something harsh, but then he picked up his coat. As he swung the leather around his shoulders and went for the door, he didn't look at her.
Oh, great. Now she felt awful.
"Hal. Hal, wait." She grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry. Hal—"
"Don't call me that," he snapped.
When he shrugged off her grip, she stepped in his way. And really wished she hadn't. His eyes were utterly cold. Chips of aqua-colored glass.
The words he spoke were sharp-edged. "I'm sorry I offended you. I can imagine it's a big goddamned burden to have someone want to get to know you."
"Hal—"
He pushed her aside easily. "You say that one more time and I'm going to put a fist through the wall."
He strode outside, walking into the woods that ran down the left edge of her property.
On impulse, Mary shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes, grabbed a jacket, and shot through the slider. She ran across the lawn, calling out for him. When she got to the forest's edge, she paused.
There were no branches snapping, no twigs cracking, no sounds of a big man walking. But he'd gone in this direction. Hadn't he?
"Hal?" she called out.
It was a long while before she turned and went back inside.
CHAPTER 15
"You did well tonight, Mr. O."
O stepped out of the shed behind the cabin, thinking Mr. X's approval was such bullshit. He kept the irritation to himself, though. He was barely a day out of the Omega's clutches and not really in the mood to get all worked up.
"But the male didn't tell us anything," he muttered.
"That's because he didn't know anything."
O paused. In the dim dawn, Mr. X's white face glowed like a night-light.
"Excuse me, sensei?"
"I worked him over myself before you got here. I had to be sure I could depend on you, but didn't want to waste an opportunity in the event you were no longer solid."
Which explained the male's condition. O had assumed the vampire had just fought hard when he'd been abducted.
Wasted time, wasted effort, O thought, getting out his car keys.
"You got any more tests for me?" You prick.
"Not right now." Mr. X checked his watch. "Your new squadron should be here soon, so put those keys away. Let's go inside."
O's revulsion at being anywhere near the cabin made him lose feeling in his feet. The damn things went totally numb on him.
But he smiled. "Lead on, sensei."
When they were indoors, he went directly to the bedroom and propped himself against the doorjamb. Even though his lungs had turned into cotton balls, he kept his cool. If he'd avoided the space, Mr. X would have thought of a reason to send him into it. The bastard knew that poking fresh wounds was the only way to determine the extent of the healing or the festering.
While slayers filed into the cabin, O took stock of them. He didn't recognize a single one, but then the longer a member was in the Society, the more anonymous he became. With hair, skin, and eye colors fading to pale, eventually a lesser just looked like a lesser.
As the other men checked him out, they glared at his dark hair. In the Society new recruits were at the bottom of the ladder, and it was unusual for one to be included in a group of seasoned men. Yeah, well, fuck that. O met each of them in the eye, making it clear that if they wanted to take him on he was more than happy to return the goddamned favor.
Faced with the possibility of physical confrontation, he came alive. It was like waking up after a good night's sleep, and he relished the surges of aggression, the good old need to dominate. It assured him that he was as he had always been. That the Omega hadn't taken his core away, after all.
The meeting didn't last long, and it was standard stuff. Introductions. A reminder that every morning, each one of them had to check in via e-mail. There was also a refreshment of the persuasion strategy and some quotas for capture and killing.
When it was over, O was the first to head for the door. Mr. X stepped in front of him.
"You will stay."
Those pale eyes held on to his, watching, waiting to see a flash of fear.
O nodded once and spread his stance. "Sure, sensei. Whatever you like."
From over Mr. X's shoulder, O watched the others head out in the manner of strangers. No talking, eyes straight ahead, bodies not touching even casually. Clearly none of them knew one another, so they must have been called in from different districts. Which meant Mr. X was reaching down into the ranks.
As the door closed behind the last man, O's skin tingled with panic, but he held himself rock still.
Mr. X looked him up and down. Then walked over to the laptop on the kitchen table and fired the thing up. Almost as an afterthought, he said, "I'm putting you in charge of both squadrons. I want them trained in the persuasion techniques we use. I want them working as units." He looked up from the glowing screen. "And I want them to remain breathing, do you understand?"
O frowned. "Why didn't you announce this while t
hey were here?"
"Don't tell me you need that kind of help?"
The mocking tone had O's eyes narrowing. "I can handle them just fine."
"You'd better."
"We done?"
"Never. But you can go."
O started for the door, except he knew the moment he got to it there would be something more. As he put his hand on the knob, he found himself pausing.
"There something you want to say to me?" Mr. X murmured. "I thought you were leaving."
O glanced across the room and pulled something out of his ass to justify his hesitation. "We can't use the house downtown anymore for persuasion, not since that vampire escaped. We need another facility in addition to the one behind here."
"I'm aware of that. Or did you think I was sending you out to look at land for no reason?"
So that was the plan. "The acreage I checked out yesterday wasn't right Too much swamp, and too many roads intersect around it. Do you have any other parcels in mind?"
"I'll e-mail the Multiple Listings to you. And until I decide where we will build, you'll bring the captives here."
"There's not enough room in the shed for an audience."
"I'm talking about the bedroom. It's quite large. As you know."
O swallowed and kept his voice smooth. "If you want me to teach, I'll need more space than that."
"You will come here until we build. That clear enough for you, or do you want a diagram?
Fine. He'd deal.
O opened the door.
"Mr. O, I believe you have forgotten something."
Jesus. Now he knew what people meant when they said their skin crawled.
"Yes, sensei?"
"I want you to thank me for the promotion."
"Thank you, sensei," O said with a tight jaw.
"Don't disappointment me, son."
Yeah, fuck you, daddy.
O bowed a little and left quickly. It felt good to get in his truck and drive away. Better than good. It felt like a goddamned liberation.
