by J. R. Ward
Mary packed a bag, thinking she was crazy. Heading to God knew where. With a vampire.
But the thing about Rhage was, she had faith in him. He was too honest to lie and too smart to underestimate the threat. Besides, her appointments with the specialists didn't start up until Wednesday afternoon. And she'd taken the week off from work as well as been discharged from the hotline. There was nothing she would miss.
When she came back down to the living room, he turned toward her, swinging the duffel over one shoulder. She eyed his black suit jacket, seeing bulges in it she hadn't thought were significant before.
"Are you armed? she asked.
He nodded.
"With what?" When he just looked at her, Mary shook her head. "You're right. Probably better that I don't know. Let's go—"
They drove in silence down Route 22 into the dead zone between Caldwell's rural edges and the beginnings of the next large town. This was hilly, woodland country with nothing but long stretches of forest between the occasional rotting double-wide at the side of the road. There were no streetlights, few cars, and a lot of deer.
About twenty minutes after they'd left her house, he turned off onto a cramped one-laner that took them on a gradual ascent. She scanned what the headlights revealed, but couldn't discern where they were. Oddly, there didn't seem to be any identifying features to the forest or the road. In fact, the landscape had a fuzzy quality to it, a buffering that she couldn't explain and couldn't override no matter how much she blinked.
From out of nowhere a set of black iron gates appeared.
As Mary jumped in her seat, Rhage hit a garage door opener, and the heavy gates split in half, allowing them just enough space to squeeze through. Immediately they confronted another set. He put down his window and punched a code into an intercom. A pleasant voice welcomed him and he looked up and to the left, nodding to a security camera.
The second pair of gates parted and Rhage accelerated up a long, ascending drive. When they rounded a corner, a twenty-foot-tall masonry wall materialized in the same conjured-up manner of the first gateway. After going under an archway and passing through yet another set of barricades, they came into a courtyard with a fountain in the middle.
To the right, there was a four-story mansion made of gray stone, the kind of place you'd see in promos for horror films: Gothic, gloomy, oppressive, with more shadows than a person felt safe being around. Across the way, there was a small, one-story house with the same Wes Craven feel.
Six cars, mostly of expensive European flavors, were parked in an orderly fashion. Rhage plugged the GTO into a spot between an Escalade and a Mercedes.
Mary got out and craned her neck up at the mansion. She felt as though she were being watched, and she was. From the roof, gargoyles stared down at her, and so did security cameras.
Rhage came over, her overnight bag in his hand. His mouth was tight, his eyes intense.
"I'm going to take care of you. You know that, right?" As she nodded, he smiled a little. "It's going to be fine, but I want you to stick close by me. I don't want us separated. That clear? You stay with me no matter what happens."
Reassurance coupled with a command, she thought. This was not going to be fine.
They walked up to a pair of weathered bronze doors and he opened one side. After they'd stepped into a windowless vestibule, the great panel clamped shut with a reverberation that came up through her shoes. Directly ahead there was another massive set of doors, these made of wood and carved with symbols. Rhage punched a code into a keypad and there was the shifting sound of a lock coming free. He took her arm firmly and opened the second door into a vast foyer.
Mary gasped. How… magical!
The lobby was a rainbow of color, as unexpected as a garden blooming in a cave. Green malachite columns alternated with ones made of claret marble, the lengths rising up from a multi-hued mosaic floor. The walls were brilliant yellow and hung with gold-framed mirrors and crystal-strung sconces. The ceiling, three stories up, was a masterpiece of artwork and gold leafing, the scenes depicting heroes and horses and angels. And up ahead, centered among all the grandeur, was a broad staircase that ascended to a balconied second floor.
It was Russian-tsar beautiful… but the sounds of the place were not exactly formal and elegant. From the room on the left, hard-core rap music pumped and deep male voices carried. Pool balls cracked into each other. Someone yelled, "Go long, cop!"
A football sailed into the foyer and a muscular man came shooting out after it. He leaped up and just had his hands on the thing when an even bigger guy with a lion's mane of hair slammed into him. The two of them went down to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, sliding hard into the wall.
"I got you good, cop."
"But you don't have the ball yet, vampire."
Grunts, laughter, and juicy curses carried up to that ornate ceiling as the men fought for the football, flipping each other over, sitting on each other's chests. Two more huge guys in black leather jogged out to check on the action. And then a little old man dressed in tails emerged from the right, carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers in a crystal vase. The butler stepped around the wrestling match with an indulgent smile.
Then everything went silent as they all noticed her at once.
Rhage shuffled her behind his body.
"Son of a bitch," someone said.
One of the men came at Rhage like a tank. His dark hair was clipped into a military brush cut, and Mary had the oddest sense she'd seen him before.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Rhage spread his stance, dropped her bag, and brought his hands up to chest level. "Where's Wrath?"
"I asked you a question," the other guy snapped. "What are you doing, bringing her here?"
"I need Wrath."
"I told you to get rid of her. Or do you expect one of us to do your job?"
Rhage met the man chin-to-chin. "Careful, Tohr. Don't make me hurt you."
Mary glanced behind her. The door to the vestibule was still open. And right now waiting in the car while Rhage sorted things out seemed like a really good idea. Stick-together rule notwithstanding.
As she backed away, she kept her eyes on him. Until she bumped against something hard.
She wheeled around. Looked up. And lost her voice.
What was blocking her escape had a scarred face, black eyes, and an aura of stone-cold anger.
Before she could bolt in fear, he took her arm and spun her away from the door.
"Don't even think about running." Flashing long fangs, he measured her body. "Funny, you're not his usual type. But you're alive and pants-pissing terrified. So you'll do fine for me."
Mary screamed.
Every head in the foyer turned. Rhage lunged for her, pulling her away, bringing her tight against his body. He spoke harshly, in the language she didn't understand.
The scarred man narrowed his eyes. "Easy there, Hollywood. Just keeping your little plaything in the house. You going to share her or be selfish like you usually are?"
Rhage looked as if he were about to lash out when a woman's voice cut him off.
"Oh, for God's sake, boys! You're scaring her."
Mary glanced around Rhage's chest and saw a woman coming down the stairway. She looked completely normal: Long black hair, blue jeans, white turtleneck. A black cat was purring like a sewing machine in her arms. As she marched through the thicket of men, they all got out of her way.
"Rhage, we're glad you made it home safely. And Wrath is coming down in a minute." She pointed to the room the men had come out of. "The rest of you head back in there. Go on, now. If you're going to crack some balls, do it on the pool table. Dinner's in a half hour. Butch, take the football with you, okay?"
She shooed them from the foyer like they weren't hard-nosed badasses. The only guy who stayed was the one with the brush cut.
He was calmer now as he looked at Rhage. "This is going to have repercussions, my brother."
Rhage's face hardened and they
broke into their secret language.
The black-haired woman came up to Mary, all the while stroking the cat's throat. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. I'm Beth, by the way. And this is Boo."
Mary took a deep breath, instinctively trusting this lone feminine outpost in what was a jungle of testosterone.
"Mary. Mary Luce."
Beth offered her the petting hand and smiled.
More fangs.
Mary felt the floor underneath her shift.
"I think she's going over," Beth shouted while reaching forward. "Rhage!"
Strong arms came around her waist as her knees buckled.
The last thing she heard before blacking out was Rhage saying, "I'm taking her up to my room."
As Rhage laid Mary out on his bed, he willed on a soft light. Oh, God, what had he done, bringing her to the compound?
When she stirred and opened her eyes, he said, "You're safe here."
"Yeah, right."
"I'll make it safe for you, how about that?"
"Now I believe you." She smiled a little. "Sorry about going over like I did. I'm not usually a fainter."
"It's perfectly understandable. Look, I have to go meet with my brothers. You see that steel lock on the door? I'm the only one who has a key, so you'll be secure here."
"Those guys were not happy to see me."
"That's their problem." He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind both her ears. He wanted to kiss her, but stood up instead.
She looked so right in his big bed, nestled in the mountain of pillows he insisted on sleeping with. He wanted her there tomorrow and the day after and…
This wasn't a mistake, he thought. This was right where she belonged.
"Rhage, why are you doing all this for me? I mean, you don't really owe me anything, and you hardly know me."
Because you're mine, he thought.
Keeping that little ditty to himself, he bent down and stroked her cheek with his forefinger. "This won't take long."
"Rhage—"
"Just let me take care of you. And don't worry about a thing."
He shut the door behind him and turned the lock before going down the hall. The brothers were waiting at the head of the stairs, Wrath at the front of the group. The king looked grim, black eyebrows buried behind his sunglasses.
"Where do you want to do this?" Rhage asked.
"My study."
After they'd filed into the formal room, Wrath went behind the desk and sat down. Tohr followed him, standing behind him and to his right. Phury and Z settled against a silk-covered wall. Vishous sat in one of the wing chairs next to the fireplace and lit up a hand-rolled.
Wrath shook his head. "Rhage, man, we got serious problems here. You violated a direct order. Twice. Then you drag a human into this house, which you know is forbidden—"
"She's in danger—"
Wrath slammed his fist into the desk, making the whole thing jump off the floor. "You really don't want to interrupt me right now."
Rhage worked his molars, grinding, biting. He forced the words of respect he usually offered freely. "I meant no offense, my lord."
"As I was saying, you disobeyed Tohr, and compounded the offense by showing up with a human. What the hell are you thinking? I mean, shit, you're not an idiot, in spite of how you're behaving. She's from the other world, so she's rank exposure for us. And you have to know her memories are both long-term and traumatic by now. She is permanently compromised."
Rhage felt a growl condense in his chest and he just couldn't suck it back. The sound permeated the room like an odor. "She will not be killed over this."
"Yeah, see, that's not your call. You made it mine when you brought her onto our turf."
Rhage barred his fangs. "Then I'll leave. I'll leave with her."
Wrath's brows popped up over his wraparounds. "Now's not the time for threats, my brother."
"Threats? I'm dead fucking serious!" He calmed himself down by rubbing his face and trying to breathe. "Look, last night the two of us were jumped by multiple lessers. She got jacked and I left at least one of those slayers alive while trying to save her. She lost her purse in the process, and if any of those lessers survived, you know they've picked up the damn thing. Even if I wipe her memories clean, her house is not secure and I'm not going to let her be taken out by the Society. If she and I can't stay here, and the only way I can protect her is by disappearing with her, then that's what I'm going to do."
Wrath frowned. "You realize you're choosing a female over the Brotherhood."
Rhage exhaled. Jesus. He hadn't expected the situation to come down to that. But he guessed it had.
Unable to stay in place, he went over to one of the windows that ran from floor to ceiling. Looking outside, he saw the terraced gardens, the swimming pool, the vast rolling lawn. But he didn't focus on the manicured landscape. What he saw was the protection the compound offered.
Security lights illuminated the vista. Cameras mounted in trees recorded every passing moment. Motion sensors monitored each colorful leaf that fell to the ground. And if anyone tried to surmount that wall, they'd do a meet-and-greet with 240 volts of good night, Grade.
This was the safest environment for Mary. Bar none.
"She's not just any female to me," he murmured. "I would have her as my shellan, if I could."
Someone cursed while several others inhaled sharply.
"You don't even know her," Tohr pointed out. "And she's a human."
"So."
Wrath's voice was low, insistent. "Rhage, man, don't pull out of the Brotherhood over this. We need you. The race needs you."
"Then it looks like she's staying here, doesn't it?" When Wrath muttered something vile, Rhage turned to him. "If Beth were in danger, would you let anything stand in your way of protecting her? Even the Brotherhood?"
Wrath rose from the chair and came around the desk in a full stalk. He stopped when they were chest-to-chest.
"My Beth has nothing to do with the choices you've made or the situation you've put all of us in. Contact with humans is to be limited and on their territory only, you know that. And no one lives in this house except brothers and their shellans, if they have them."
"What about Butch?"
"He's the sole exception. And he's only allowed because V dreams of him."
"But Mary won't be here for forever."
"How you figure that? You think the Society's going to give up? You think humans will suddenly become tolerant as a race? Get real."
Rhage dropped his voice, but not his eyes. "She's sick, Wrath. She's got cancer. I want to take care of her, and not just because of this lesser nightmare."
There was a long silence.
"Shit, you've bonded with her." Wrath put a hand through his long hair. "For God's sake… You just met her, my brother."
"And how long did it take you to mark Beth as your own? Twenty-four hours? Oh, right, you waited two days. Yeah, good tiling you gave it some time."
Wrath let out a short laugh. "You gotta keep bringing my shellan into it, don't you?"
"Look, my lord, Mary is… different to me. I'm not going to pretend I understand why. All I know is, she's a pounding in my chest that I can't ignore… hell, that I don't want to ignore. So the idea of leaving her at the mercy of the Society is simply not an option. When it comes to her, every protective instinct I have goes into overdrive and I can't push that shit aside. Even for the Brotherhood."
Rhage fell silent and minutes passed. Hours. Or maybe it was just a couple of heartbeats.
"If I allow her to stay here," Wrath said, "it's only because you see her as your mate and only if she can keep her yap shut. And we still have to deal with the fact that you violated those orders from Tohr. I can't let that go. I've got to bring it to the Scribe Virgin."
Rhage sagged in relief. "I'll accept any repercussions."
"So be it." Wrath went back to the desk and sat down. "We've got some other things to talk about, my brothers. Tohr
, you're up."
Tohrment came forward.
"Bad news. We heard from a civilian family. Male, ten years out of his transition, disappeared last night from the downtown area. I've sent a blast e-mail to the community informing everyone that they should use extra caution when going out and that anyone who's missing needs to be reported to us immediately. Also, Butch and I have been talking. The cop's got a good head on his shoulders. Any of you have a problem if I bring him in on a little of our business?" When there were a number of shaking heads, Tohr focused on Rhage. "Now tell us what happened last night in the park."
After Rhage left, and when she felt steady enough to stand, Mary slid off the bed and checked the door. It was locked and solid, so she felt fairly safe. When she saw a light switch to the left, she hit it, illuminating the room.
Holy… house of Windsor.
Silk drapery hung from the windows in swaths of red and gold. Satin and velvet adorned a huge antique Jacobean bed, the posts of which must have been made out of whole oak trunks. There was an Aubusson rug on the floor, oil paintings on the walls—
Good lord, was that Madonna and Child really a Rubens?
But it wasn't all Sotheby's stuff. There was a plasma-screen TV, enough stereo equipment to carry off a Super Bowl half-time show, a NASA-worthy computer. And an Xbox on the floor.
She wandered over to the bookshelves, where leather-bound volumes in foreign languages stood straight and proud. She scanned the titles with appreciation until she ran into a collection of DVDs.
Oh, the humanity.
The Austin Powers boxed set. Aliens and Alien. Jaws. All three Naked Guns. Godzilla. Godzilla. Godzilla… wait, the rest of this whole shelf was Godzilla. She went one lower. Friday the 13th, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street. Well, at least he hadn't bothered with the sequels to those. Caddy-shack. The Evil Dead boxed set.
It was a wonder Rhage hadn't blinded himself with all that pop culture.
Mary went into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. A Jacuzzi the size of her living room was set into the marble floor.
Now that's a true thing of beauty, she thought.
She heard the door open and was relieved when Rhage called her name.
