Lover Eternal tbdb-2

by J. R. Ward

  Rhage paced around the woods, hoping some of the shadows would turn out to be lessers. He was beginning to hate tree branches. Goddamned teases as they blew in the wind.

  "Where are those bastards?"

  "Easy, Hollywood." V smoothed his goatee and tugged at his Sox hat. "Man, you're stoked tonight."

  Stoked didn't cover it. He was nearly jumping out of his skin. He'd hoped staying away from Mary during the day would help, and he'd banked on finding a fight this evening. Had also counted on the exhaustion of sleep deprivation taking him down, too.

  Yeah, well, no such luck on all fronts. He wanted Mary with an increasing desperation that no longer seemed tied to proximity. They hadn't found any lessers. And coming up on forty-eight hours of no shut-eye was only making him more aggressive.

  Worse, it was now three A.M. He was running out of time for the battle release he so desperately needed. Damn it—

  "Rhage." V waved his gloved hand in the air. "You with me here at all, my brother?"

  "Sorry, what?" He rubbed his eyes. His face. His biceps. His skin itched so badly he felt like he was wearing an ant suit.

  "You are seriously out of it."

  "Nah, I'm cool—"

  "Then why're you working your arms like that?"

  Rhage dropped his hands. Only to start massaging his thighs.

  "We've got to get you to One Eye," V said softly. "You're losing it. You need to have some sex."

  "Fuck that."

  "Phury told me how he found you out in the hall."

  "You guys are a bunch of old maids, for real."

  "If you won't do your female, and you can't find a fight, what's your alternative?"

  "It's not supposed to be like this." He moved his head around, trying to loosen his shoulders and neck. "This isn't how it works. I just changed. It's not supposed to come out again—"

  "Supposed to in one hand, shit in the other, see what you get the most of. You're in a bad space, my brother. And you know what you have to do to get out of it, true?"

  When Mary heard the door open, she came awake with a groggy disorientation. Shoot, she had another night fever.

  "Rhage?" she mumbled.

  "Yeah, it's me."

  His voice sounded like hell, she thought. And he'd left the door to the room open, so he probably wasn't staying for long. Maybe he was still angry at her from that last phone call.

  From inside the closet, she heard the shifting of metal and some fabric flapping, as if he were pulling on a fresh shirt. When he came out, he went right back for the hallway, his trench coat billowing behind him. The idea that he would leave without saying good-bye was somehow shocking.

  As he gripped the doorknob, he paused. Light from the hall fell on his bright hair and his broad shoulders. His face was in profile, in darkness.

  "Where are you going?" she asked as she sat up.

  There was a long silence. "Out."

  Why did he seem so apologetic? she wondered. She didn't need a babysitter. If he had business to attend to…

  Oh… right. Women. He was going out after women.

  Her chest cavity turned into a cold, damp pit, especially as she looked at the bouquet of flowers he'd given her. God, the idea of him touching someone else like she knew he could made her want to retch.

  "Mary… I'm sorry."

  She cleared her throat. "Don't be. There's nothing going on between us, so I don't expect you to change your habits for me."

  "It's not a habit."

  "Oh, right. Sorry, Addiction."

  There was a long silence. "Mary, I… if there were another way—"

  "To do what?" She swept her hand back and forth. "Don't answer that."

  "Mary—"

  "Don't, Rhage. It's none of my business. Just go."

  "My cell phone will be on if you—"

  "Yeah. I'm really going to call."

  He stared at her for a heartbeat. And then his black shadow disappeared through the door.

  CHAPTER 27

  John Matthew walked home from Moe's, trailing the three-thirty A.M. police patrol. He dreaded the hours until dawn. Sitting in his apartment was going to feel like being in a cage, but it was much too late for him to be out and about on the street. Still… God, he was so restless he could taste the agitation in his mouth. And the fact that there was no one he could talk to made him ache.

  He really needed some advice. Ever since Tohrment had left him, he'd been scrambled in his head, debating whether or not he'd done the right thing. He kept telling himself he had, but the second-guessing wouldn't stop.

  He wished he could find Mary. He'd gone to her house the night before, only to find it dark and locked up. And she hadn't been going to the hotline. It was as if she'd disappeared, and worrying about her was one more reason he was twitchy.

  As he approached his building, he saw a truck parked in front. The bed was full of boxes, like someone was moving in.

  What a weird time of night to do that, he thought, eyeing the load.

  As he saw that there was no one around to stand guard, he hoped the owner came back soon. Otherwise, their stuff was going to get disappeared.

  John went into his building and up the stairs, ignoring the cigarette butts and the empty beer cans and the crumpled potato-chip bags. When he stepped off onto the second floor, he squinted. Something was spilled all over the corridor. Deep red…

  Blood.

  Backing up into the stairwell, he stared at his door. There was a sunburst in the center of it, as if someone had had their head… But then he saw the broken dark green bottle. Red wine. It was just red wine. The drunken couple who lived next door had taken another fight out into the hall.

  His shoulders eased.

  " 'Scuse me," someone said from above him.

  He moved aside and looked up.

  John's body seized.

  The big man standing over him was dressed in black camouflage pants and a leather jacket. His hair and skin were utterly white, and his pale eyes had an eerie shine to them.

  Evil. Undead.

  Enemy.

  This was his enemy.

  "Some kind of mess you got on this floor," the guy said before narrowing his gaze on John. "Something wrong?"

  John fiercely shook his head and dropped his eyes. His first instinct was to run to his apartment, but he didn't want the guy knowing where he lived.

  There was a deep chuckle. "You look a little pale there, buddy."

  John took off, shooting down the stairs and out into the street. He raced to the corner, took a left, and kept going. He ran and ran, until he couldn't go any farther because he'd lost his breath. Squeezing himself into the juncture between a brick building and a Dumpster, he panted.

  In his dreams, he fought pale men. Pale men in black clothes whose eyes were soulless.

  My enemy.

  He was shaking so badly he could barely get his hand into his pocket. Taking out a quarter, he gripped the thing so tightly it dug into his palm. When he had his breath back, he leaned out and peered up and down the alley. There was no one around, no sounds of heavy feet hitting the asphalt.

  His enemy hadn't recognized him.

  John left the Dumpster's sanctuary and walked quickly to the far corner.

  The dented pay phone was covered with graffiti, but he knew it worked because he called Mary from it a lot. He put the quarter in the slot and punched out the number Tohrment had given him.

  After one ring, voice mail kicked in with a robotic recitation of the numbers he'd dialed.

  John waited for the beep. And whistled.

  CHAPTER 28

  It was right before dawn when Mary heard male voices out in the hall. As the door opened, her heart skipped in her chest. Rhage filled the frame as another guy spoke.

  "Man, that was one hell of a fight as we left the bar. You were a demon out there."

  "I know," Rhage muttered.

  "You're incredible, Hollywood, and not just with the hand-to-hand. That female you—
"

  "Later, Phury."

  The door shut and the closet light came on. By the sound of clicks and metallic shifting, he was disarming. When he came out, he took a shuddering breath.

  Mary faked being asleep as his footsteps hesitated by the foot of the bed and then headed for the bathroom. When she heard the shower come on, she imagined everything he was washing off of himself: Sex. Fighting.

  Especially the sex.

  She covered her face with her hands. Today she would go home. She would pack her things and walk out the door. He couldn't make her stay; she wasn't his responsibility just because he said so.

  The water shut off.

  The silence sucked all the air from the room, and she grew out of breath while holding herself in place. Gasping, suffocating… she threw the covers back and bolted for the door. Her hands latched onto the knob and fought to free the lock, jerking, pulling, until her hair whipped around.

  "Mary," Rhage said from right behind her.

  She jumped and wrestled harder with the door.

  "Let me out. I have to get out… I can't stay here in this room with you. I can't be here… with you." She felt his hands come down on her shoulders. "Don't touch me."

  She careened around the room until she bounced into the far corner and realized there was nowhere to go and no way to get out. He was in front of the door, and she had a feeling he was keeping the locks in place.

  Trapped, she linked her arms over her chest and propped herself up against the wall to keep standing. She didn't know what she would do if he touched her again.

  Rhage didn't even try.

  He sat on the bed, a towel around his hips, his hair damp. He dragged a hand down his face, across his jaw. He looked like hell, but his body was still the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She pictured the hands of other women grabbing on to those powerful shoulders, just as she had. She saw him pleasuring other bodies as he had hers.

  She was torn between wanting to thank God she hadn't slept with him, and being pissed off that after all the women he'd done, he refused to have sex with her.

  "How many?" she demanded, the words so hoarse they barely carried. "And tell me, was it good for you? I don't have to ask whether they liked it. I know how talented you are."

  "Sweet… Mary," he whispered. "If you'd let me hold you, I would. God, I would kill just to hold you right now."

  "You are never coming near me again. Now how many were there? Two? Four? A six-pack?"

  "Do you really want the details?" His voice was soft, sad to the point of cracking. Abruptly his head dropped down and hung loosely from his neck. For all appearances, he looked like a ruined man. "I can't… I'm not going out like that again. I'll find another way."

  "Another way to get off?" she snapped. "You sure as hell won't be sleeping with me, so are you thinking about using your hand, maybe?"

  He took a deep breath. "That design. On my back? It's part of me."

  "Whatever. I'm leaving here today."

  His head twisted toward her. "No, you aren't."

  "Yes, I am."

  "I'll give you this room. You won't have to see me. But you aren't going anywhere."

  "How are you going to keep me from leaving? Lock me in here?"

  "If that's what it takes, yeah."

  She recoiled. "You can't be serious."

  "When's your next doctor's appointment?"

  "That is none of your business."

  "When?"

  The hard anger in his voice cooled her temper down a little. "Ah… Wednesday."

  "I'll make sure you get to that."

  She stared at him. "Why are you doing this to me?"

  His shoulders rose and fell. "Because I love you."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I love you."

  Mary's control evaporated under a blast of fury so great she was rendered speechless. He loved her? He didn't know her. And he'd been with another… Her outrage boiled over as she pictured him having sex with someone else.

  Suddenly Rhage sprang off the bed and came at her, as if he felt her emotions and was energized by them.

  "I know you're angry, scared, hurting. Take it out on me, Mary." He grabbed her waist to keep her from running, but didn't stop her from trying to shove him away. "Use me to bear your pain. Let me feel it in my skin. Hit me if you have to, Mary."

  Damn her to hell, she was tempted to. Lashing out seemed like the only recourse for the kind of power surging through her body.

  But she was not an animal. "No. Now let go of me!"

  He took her wrist and she struggled against the hold, throwing her whole body into the fight until her shoulder felt like it was going to pop. Rhage stilled her easily and flipped her hand around so her rigid, curled fingertips faced him.

  "Use me, Mary. Let me bear this for you." With a flash of movement, he raked his chest with her nails and then clamped his palms on either side of her face.

  "Make me bleed for you…" His mouth stroked against hers. "Let your anger go."

  God help her, she bit him. Right on his lower lip. She just sank her teeth into his flesh.

  As something sinfully delicious hit her tongue, Rhage moaned with approval and pressed his body against hers. A buzz, like she'd had too much chocolate, hummed through her.

  Mary cried out.

  Horrified by what she'd done, scared of what she might do next, she fought to get away, but he held her in place, kissing her, telling her he loved her over and over again. The hard, hot length of his arousal pushed into her belly through the towel, and he rubbed himself against her, his body a sinuous, pumping promise of the sex she didn't want, but needed until her insides were cramping.

  She wanted him… even though she knew he'd fucked other women. Tonight.

  "Oh, God… no…" She jerked her head to the side, but he caught her chin, bringing her back to center.

  "Yes, Mary…" He kissed her frantically, tongue in her mouth. "I love you."

  Something inside of her snapped and she hurled him away, ducking out of his hold.

  But instead of running for the door, she stared at him mercilessly.

  Four scratches streaked down his chest. His lower lip was cut. He was panting, flushed.

  She reached out and ripped the towel from his body.

  Rhage was shockingly aroused, his erection straining, enormous.

  And in the breathless moment between them, she despised all his smooth, perfectly hairless skin, his tight muscles, his fallen-angel beauty. Most of all, she loathed the proud length of him, that sexual tool he used so much.

  And still, she wanted him.

  If she'd been in her right mind, she would have backed away from Rhage. She would have locked herself in the bathroom. Hell, she would have been intimidated by the sheer size of him. But she was pissed off and out of control. She seized his hard flesh with one hand and took his balls in her other, both overflowing her palms. His head snapped backward, the cords in his neck straining, breath exploding from his mouth.

  His voice vibrated, filled the room. "Do whatever it takes. Oh, God, I love you."

  She led him to the bed roughly, letting go only so she could force him back on the mattress. He fell on the messy covers, his arms and legs splaying out as if he were giving himself to her with no reservations, no restrictions.

  "Why now?" she asked bitterly. "Why are you willing to do me now? Or is this not about sex at all and only because you want me to draw more blood?"

  "I'm dying to make love with you. And I can be with you at this moment because I'm level. I'm… spent."

  Oh, now there was a lovely thought.

  She shook her head, but he cut her off. "You want me. So take the pleasure. Don't think, just take your pleasure from me."

  Crazed with lust and anger and frustration, Mary yanked her nightgown up around her hips and straddled his thighs. But once she was on top of him, looking down into his face, she hesitated. Was she really going to do this? Take him? Use him for nothing more than getting o
ff and getting back at him for something he had every right to do?

  She started to move off of him.

  In a quick surge, Rhage's legs shot up under her, toppling her onto his chest. As she fell on him, his arms wrapped around her.

  "You know what you want to do, Mary," he said into her ear. "Don't stop. Take what you need from me. Use me."

  Mary closed her eyes, turned off her brain, and let her body go.

  Reaching between his thighs, she held him up and sat on him hard.

  They both shouted as she took all of him, right to the pubic bone.

  He was a tremendous presence in her body, stretching her until she thought she might tear. She breathed deeply and didn't move, her thighs straining as the inside of her struggled to adjust to him.

  "You're so tight." Rhage groaned. His lips stripped free of his teeth, his fangs flashing. "Oh… God, I feel you all over my body. Mary."

  His chest heaved and his abdomen clenched so hard the muscles threw shadows. As his hands squeezed her knees, his eyes dilated until there was hardly any blue left to them at all. And then his pupils flashed white.

  Rhage's face contorted with some kind of panic. But then he shook his head as if to clear it and assumed an expression of concentration. Slowly the centers of his eyes turned back to black, as if he'd willed them so.

  Mary stopped focusing on him and started thinking about herself.

  Not caring about anything except where their bodies met, she planted her hands on his shoulders and pulled up from him. The friction was electric, and the burst of pleasure she felt helped her accept him more easily. She slid down on his erection and came forward and then repeated the motions over and over again. Her rhythm was a slow glide, each descent stretching her, each rise coating him with her body's silky response.

  With increasing dominance she rode him, taking what she wanted, the thickness and the heat and the length of him creating a wild, twisting knot of energy deep in her core. She opened her eyes and looked down at him.

  Rhage was a picture of male ecstasy. A fine shine of sweat covered his broad chest and shoulders. His head was kicked back, his chin high, his blond hair falling on the pillow, his lips parted. He was watching her through lowered lids, eyes lingering on her face and her breasts and where they were joined.