by J. R. Ward
All of that was incidental to what had driven a stake right through Rhage's sternum.
The face...was Bitty's.
The male's face had the same nose and cheeks, the same jaw and mouth, the features simply passed through a filter of masculinity and age. And then there was the hair--his hair was the exact shade of brown and the precise thickness even though it was shorter.
The eyes were a carbon copy, too.
The male didn't look Rhage's way, but instead, went to the reception desk, one hand lifting up to his temples as if he usually wore a hat and was reflexively trying to take it off.
Fast footsteps approached from behind Rhage, but he didn't pay them any mind, at least not until V appeared with a gun out.
"What the fuck's wrong?" the brother demanded.
Rhage tried to answer. Well, he guessed he did. Something was coming out of his mouth.
"What?" V demanded, looking all around and seeing nothing wrong. "Are you okay?"
It was at that moment that the male, who was clearly a relative of Bitty's, glanced up from the reception desk, as if he had heard Vishous's voice. And the second V saw what he was doing, the brother cursed long and low.
Rhage's phone began to ring, but he didn't even think of answering it.
In slow motion, he took step after step toward the male.
Whoever the guy was, he had refocused on the receptionist and was speaking in a quiet voice with a commoner's accent--but then he stopped and turned as Rhage halted in front of him.
Rhage said nothing as he stared into those eyes.
"I'm sorry," the male said. "I don't have an appointment. I wasn't sure where to go. I can leave. I'll just leave--I gave her my number. I'm not looking for any trouble."
The male lifted his fists up as if he were ready to defend himself, even against a brother--but it was clear he would prefer not to have to: His stare was level without being aggressive, his affect calm and watchful as his stance widened, and he settled his weight.
It was the classic preparation of someone used to fighting, who was also not an instigator.
"What is your name?" Rhage asked, grimly aware that people were coming around them. V, Saxton...even Wrath himself.
Don't say it, Rhage prayed. Don't say it, dontsayit--
"Ruhn. My name is Ruhn. My sister died about two months ago. I'm here for my niece, Lizabitte."
--
Mary put her phone down again and lifted her hands to her face. As she stared at the computer screen, reading and rereading the short PM, she was screaming in her head even as she remained silent.
"Rhage...," she moaned. "Oh, God..."
Back with the phone. Calling him again. Voice mail for the fourth time.
He had to be in with the King, but God! why now--
"Calm down," she said aloud. "Breathe and relax."
This could be anything. Someone who was playing a practical joke--who just happened to have the name that Bitty had used. Somebody who had heard Mary was mated to a Brother and wanted to take advantage of that by posing as Bitty's uncle--even though...well, she hadn't identified herself as a foster parent.
Or maybe it was a total mistake, a message for somebody else entirely.
Yeah, 'cuz that was likely.
"Damn it, Rhage."
Her hands were shaking so badly that she fumbled the cell phone, and had to bend over and fish around the dark foot-well of the desk to find the thing.
The downward repositioning was kind of handy, really, considering she was seriously thinking about throwing up.
Righting herself, she looked--
Marissa was in the open doorway of her office and her boss seemed like she had seen a ghost. Great. Did the universe have a BOGO on potentially life-shattering events tonight?
"Mary."
The instant she heard the grim tone of voice, Mary clamped her molars together and thought, Nope, not a two-for-one. This was about her. This was about the private message.
Or that Rhage had been hurt or killed.
Mary got to her feet. "Tell me."
"You have to get to the Audience House right now. A young male has shown up and--"
"He says he's Bitty's uncle."
Marissa came in. "Did Rhage call you?"
"No. I...it doesn't matter."
Mary reached for her coat. Dropped it as she had the phone. Took two tries to pick the thing up. Then couldn't get her arm through the sleeve.
"Zsadist is outside." Marissa helped her with the sleeves and then pulled the lapels to order as if Mary were a child. "He's going to drive you."
"I'll be fine."
"No." Marissa handed Mary her purse. Her phone. Put her red scarf around her neck and tied it in a loose knot. "He's going to take you."
Marissa stepped back so Mary could go out first.
But Mary didn't move. Somehow, the messages from her brain to her feet were getting lost in the pathways of her gray matter, the command to left-and-right it out of her office, to the stairs, and down to the front door scattering like autumn leaves in a cold north wind.
Her family. Her precious little family.
Her and Rhage, now with Bitty.
Or maybe...not with Bitty.
"I just want to go back," she heard herself whisper through sudden tears. "I want to run the night back, I want a reverse lever, a way to back up. I want to be at home during the day, watching movies and sleeping with them both."
It was emotions, not logic, speaking, of course. Because even if there were a magic remote that could rewind time, the private message would still have been sent...and the collision would still be occurring.
Even more to the point, if by some horrible fate the male actually was Bitty's uncle? Mary had no right to rob the little girl of her blood relatives.
"I can't do this." She covered her mouth with her hand. "I can't do this...."
Marissa hugged her close and she clung to her friend. There were no words spoken, because what could be said? This might be a fraud.
Or this might be a rightful, totally legal parental figure coming to claim Bitty.
"Rhage is there," she said suddenly as she jerked back. "Oh, God...Rhage...is at the Audience House."
That's why he wasn't answering the phone. The uncle or whatever had shown up at the Audience House.
Mary broke into a run for the stairs, her formerly paralyzed legs putting a rush to the descent.
As she hit the front door with Marissa now racing behind her, her tears were flowing fast, streaking off her face. She didn't pay them any mind. She tore across the lawn, feeling nothing of the cold, or the fact that her purse was slapping against her hip, or that she had her phone locked in a death grip in her other hand.
Z was right by Rhage's GTO, his skull-trimmed hair and his scarred face glowing in the darkness like a destination.
He opened the passenger door for her, and when she jumped in and couldn't work the seat belt, he reached inside, even though he hated being close to people, and clicked the tab into place. A split second later, he was behind the wheel and roaring the engine to life.
The tires skidded out on the pavement as he floored the accelerator, the powerful engine fishtailing the rear end before rubber tread found purchase and they exploded forward.
As they sped off, Mary was panting, panting so hard, panting--until she was dizzy and had to lean forward and brace her hands against the dashboard.
Even though they had had Bitty for such a short time, the girl was like a part of Mary's body, and not an arm or a leg. More like an organ you couldn't live without. The heart. The brain. The soul. Only in this case, no transplants.
God, she couldn't do this--
Zsadist covered her hand with one of his, and stayed like that, relinquishing his hold only when he had to shift. And the sense of his strength was the only thing that kept her from screaming out loud until she shattered the windshield in front of her.
She was going to remember this car ride for the rest of her life
.
Tragically.
's bringing her in," someone said.
Rhage wasn't tracking much. He was vaguely aware that he was in Darius's kitchen, sitting at a table that was big enough to handle eight or maybe ten people, but had only one at it.
One rocked and shocked, braced-for-disaster, sorry son of a bitch.
"Mary," he said in a cracked voice. "She was calling me...."
Wrath's face got right up in his as the King sat down next to him. Through those wraparounds, Rhage could feel the power and the support of his brother and his ruler. "Z has her in your car. They're gonna be here very soon."
"Where is..." What had he meant to say?
The back door to the kitchen opened, another blast of cold air rushing in--just as it had out front some twenty minutes ago.
The instant he caught his Mary's scent, he burst up out of his chair and wrenched around. "Mary--"
"Rhage--"
They met somewhere by the stove, and he held her so hard, he didn't think she could breathe.
"It's all right," he murmured as he scented her tears. "It's okay...."
Bullshit. He didn't know that at all. But as she shivered against him, he doubted she was hearing much.
Damn it, life was in a hurricane again, the pillars of his pathetic existence bending so far from the winds and lashing rain, they were bound to snap, the structures on his beach slapping their doors as their roofs disintegrated shingle by shingle, the windows shattering--
Not that he was being dramatic or anything.
"Come on," he said roughly. "Sit down."
He drew Mary over to the table and eased her into the seat next to the King.
"Where is the...where is he?" Mary asked.
"V. V is talking to him." Rhage rubbed his temples, aware that he had a thumper of a headache. "They, ah, they went into the library behind the--it doesn't matter. You know where the room is."
Why the fuck was he babbling about the floor plan?
Wrath spoke up. "Vishous is taking down the male's information and will verify it with Saxton's help. I think it's better that the two of you sit tight and don't meet or speak with him until we've got that shit sorted."
As kindly as the words were spoken, it wasn't a request. But Rhage wasn't going to fight the edict. Separate was better in this case.
"That's right," Mary said in a hollow voice. "We have a conflict of..."
"Interest," Rhage filled in.
Sitting down as well, he took Mary's hand and felt her squeeze in return...and then no one said a thing.
From time to time, he looked around at the sparkling countertops, the Viking stove with its eight gas burners, the refrigerator. As it was night, the windows over the sink...by the table they were at...across the way...were nothing but black panes separated by bright white slats.
"How long do you think this will take?" Rhage asked no one in particular.
"We just have to wait," Mary whispered. "The answer is already written, we just have to find out what it is."
Glancing over at her, he hated the pain that had sucked the color out of her face and dilated her pupils and was making her hands shake.
He would have taken a bullet for her.
In fact, he felt as though he had. Too bad they'd both ended up getting shot.
Rhage checked the watch he'd recently bought for himself, the one that was a match to the Rolex President he'd given her when they had first gotten together.
Shit, he didn't know whether he wanted Vishous to come right away or hours from now.
"What did he look like?" Mary whispered. When he didn't reply, she cleared her throat. "Be honest. What did he look like."
It was a while before Rhage could reply, and when he did, it was just one word.
"Her. He looked...exactly like Bitty."
xe was in hell. And he ate up the pain.
As he sat in his far-off corner of the restaurant, he watched Elise smile at the human man. Tilt her head as if her professor were saying something that particularly interested her. Motion with her hands. Laugh.
She looked into the other man's eyes. Clinked her wineglass with his. Took a piece of food from his plate to try.
And the whole time, she was so exquisitely beautiful, the flickering candle on the table playing over her face and throat, her shoulders and her hair.
He hated that she was with someone else. Detested that they were sharing a meal--which felt more intimate than the sex he had on a regular basis. Was downright violent about the thoughts that man was undoubtedly having in his head.
But he loved to hurt. The jealousy was an agony that left him deliciously crippled, and he opened himself up to the pain of being on the outside looking in.
Even though he barely knew her, he loved her in this moment. She was the conduit to the vein of torture, and as physically attractive as he found her, the power she had over him turned her into a goddess.
"Would you care for anything else?" the waiter asked him.
Axe shook his head. "Just the check."
"Here."
The leather folio was put at his elbow and the guy marched off. Not that Axe blamed the human. All Axe had had was water and dinner rolls--before rocking the house by ordering a coffee.
The total was five dollars. He left the only ten-dollar bill he had and thought, Hey, fifty percent tip. Check him out, a high-rolling motherfucker.
As he took another sip from his water glass, he enjoyed an uncharacteristic, unwelcomed moment of introspection: while Elise laughed again, he was vaguely aware that where he was at was really bad juju.
In her own, almost innocent, way, she was rocking his world. Bringing him to his knees. Demanding all his attention without even being aware that she was asking anything of him.
And in response, he was going to be making a demand of her. The second he got her alone.
She was not going to deny him, either.
Over at Elise's table, the check arrived, and after it was paid, the pair of them got up--which was Axe's cue to sneak out the fire escape behind him. As he pushed the bar, no alarm sounded, and the fresh air made him realize how much the place smelled like steak.
His body was humming, so the cold didn't register at all, and he stayed in the shadows of the single-story building as he walked around to the front, his boots crunching over the frosted ground. The entrance to the restaurant had an awning with no side panels, a thick mat running down the pavement underneath it like the poor relation of a movie premiere's red carpet.
The happy fucking couple came out a moment later, and Troy put his arm around Elise's waist as they went down the three shallow steps to the runner.
And didn't that make his fangs descend in a rush. But he stayed right where he was.
A gust of wind caught Elise's hair, sweeping it in the professor's direction, the ends of the tendrils feathering across his shoulder.
She laughed as she regathered the errant strands, put the length in a twist, and tucked it into the collar of her coat. And then they kept chatting. It was easy to get the gist. The human motioned to the parking lot as if to offer to take her home. She shook her head. He motioned to the cars once more. She put her hand on his forearm and shook her head again.
She was telling him an artful lie about why he couldn't drive her home.
Axe smiled, flashing all his teeth in the dark. Nah, she wasn't going anywhere with good ol', man-bunned Troy. And she knew right where Axe was, his position upwind of her carrying the scent of his arousal right into her nose even as the human remained clueless of his presence.
Those rats without tails were so easy.
But they didn't get a first-date kiss. Nope.
It was pretty clear when Troy was thinking about going in for one. But Elise stepped back and put her hands in the pockets of her coat. And the man respected the boundary, lifting his hand in goodbye.
Which saved his fucking life.
Elise stood under the awning in the wind as the guy got into a pe
rfectly respectful Subaru and backed out of his spot. Then he pulled up to the awning, put the window down, and tossed something off with a grin. She laughed. Waved.
Buh-bye, human.
Elise waited until the taillights made a left out of the parking lot and headed down the main road beyond.
Then she turned to him.
She came to him.
And Axe let her do the walking, staying where he'd planted his boots.
When she was standing in front of him, he purred deep in his throat. "How was dinner," he asked in a growl. "Did you like it?"
Her lips parted, her breath coming hard. "He was good company."
"I wasn't asking about him. How was the steak."
With that, he reached out and locked his hand on the back of her neck. Pulling her up against him, he arched his hips into her so she felt exactly what he was about.
Elise gasped, her eyes closing as she went limp.
He pushed her against the building and held her there with his body as he freed her hair, the gusts whipping it around him. Planting his palms on the cold stone on either side of her head, he leaned in and put his mouth right at her ear.
"So how was he...," he drawled.
Before she could answer, he took her earlobe between his lips and sucked on it, ending with a nip from his fang.
"Hmm?" He extended his tongue and licked at her. "How was he?"
Her reply was her hands coming up to his shoulders and latching on so hard he could feel her nails through the leather of his jacket. Oh...fuck, he wanted to be naked and have her do that, so that she left little half-moons of blood in his flesh. And then he wanted her to bite him hard at his throat and take from his vein.
Axe ran his lips over her jawline and then hovered a millimeter from her mouth. "You're not answering the question, Elise."
She was panting as hard as he was, her body his for the taking, her sex fully aroused for him. And you want to talk about satisfaction? That Mr. Perfect human in his precious little Merrells and his scarf, who'd gotten to sit across from her at dinner, and charm her with his wit and his intellectual savvy, was never going to get this kind of reaction out of her.
Never. Fucking. Ever.
"Are you going to see him again?" he drawled. "Because I think you should."
She recoiled at that, pulling away. "What...?"
