Black Dagger Brotherhood - Lover Eternal Part 30

But like all good things, she had come to an end. G.o.d, he missed her. She'd been the only one who understood how love and hate beat side by side in the chambers of his heart, the only one who could handle both at the same time. Thinking of her long, dark hair and her lean body, he missed her so much he could almost feel her beside him.

As he came into Caldwell proper, he thought of the prost.i.tute he'd bought the other morning. She'd ended up giving him what he'd needed after all, though she'd had to trade her life to do it. And while he drove along now, he scanned the sidewalks, looking for another release. Unfortunately, brunettes were harder to come by than blondes in the skin trade. Maybe he could buy a wig and tell the wh.o.r.es to put it on.

O thought about the number of people he'd taken out. The first person he'd killed had been in self-defense. The second had been a mistake. The third had been in cold blood. So by the time he'd come to the East Coast, running from the law, he'd known a little about death.

Back then, with Jennifer just gone, the pain in his chest had been a living thing, a mad dog that needed to stretch its legs before it destroyed him. Falling into the Society had been a miracle. It had saved him from tortured rootlessness, giving him a focus and a purpose and an outlet for the agony.

But now, somehow, all those benefits were gone and he felt empty. Just as he had five years ago in Sioux City, right before he'd run into Jennifer.

Well, almost the same, he thought, pulling up to the rental place.

Back then, he'd still been alive.

"Are you out of the tub?"

Mary laughed, put the phone to her other ear, and burrowed deeper into the pillows. It was sometime after four o'clock.

"Yes, Rhage."

She couldn't remember when she'd had a more luxurious day. Sleeping in. Food delivered with books and magazines. The Jacuzzi.

It was like being at a spa. Well, a spa where the phone rang all the time. She wouldn't count how many times he'd called her.

"Did Fritz bring you what I asked?"

"How did he find fresh strawberries like that in October?"

"We have our ways."

"And the flowers are beautiful." She eyed the bouquet full of roses and foxglove and delphinium and tulips. Spring and summer in a crystal vase. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like them. I wish I could have gone out and chosen them myself. I would have enjoyed finding you only the most perfect ones. I wanted them to be bright and smell good."

"Mission accomplished."Male voices sounded in the background. Rhage's voice dimmed. "Hey, cop, mind if I use your bedroom? I need some privacy."

The response was m.u.f.fled and then she heard a door shut.

"Hi," Rhage said in a husky drawl. "Are you in bed?"

Her body stirred, heating up. "Yes."

"I miss you."

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

"You still there, Mary?" When she sighed, he said, "That doesn't sound good. Am I getting too real for you?"

I've had eight different females this week alone.

Oh, G.o.d. She did not want to fall for him. Just could not let herself.

"Mary?"

"Just don't... say things like that to me."

"It's how I feel."

She didn't respond. What could she say? That she felt the same way? That she missed him even though she'd talked to him once every hour throughout the day? It was true, but not something she was happy about. He was too d.a.m.ned beautiful... and h.e.l.l, he could put Wilt Chamberlain in the shade when it came to a list of lovers. So even if she were perfectly healthy, he was a recipe for disaster. Add to the situation what she was facing healthwise?

Getting emotionally attached to him was downright absurd.

As the silence stretched between them, he cursed. "We have a lot of business to take care of tonight. I don't know when I'll be back, but you know where to find me if you need me."

As the phone connection was cut off, she felt just awful. And she knew the lectures about keeping distant were not really working.

Chapter Twenty-six.

Rhage stomped his s.h.i.+tkicker into the ground and looked around the forest. Nothing. No sounds or smells of lessers. No evidence anyone had been through this quiet woodland spot for years. It had been the same for the other plots of land they'd visited.

"What the h.e.l.l are we doing out here?" he muttered.

He knew the d.a.m.n answer. Tohr had run across a lesser the night before on an isolated stretch of Route 22. The slayer had taken off into the forest on a dirtbike, but had lost a handy little piece of paper in the process: a list of large land parcels that were for sale on Caldwell's fringes.

Today, Butch and V had performed a search on all properties sold in the last twelve months in the city and surrounding burgs.

About fifty sales of rural stretches of land had popped up. Rhage and V had visited five of them so far, and the twins were doing the same, covering others. Meanwhile, Butch was at the Pit, compiling the field reports, making a map, and looking for a pattern. It was going to take a couple of nights to get through all of the parcels, because patrols still had to be performed. And Mary's house had to be monitored.

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

"Where are those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?"

"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. d.a.m.n 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 ma.s.saging his thighs.

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

"f.u.c.k 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, s.h.i.+t in the other, see what you get the most of. You're in a bad s.p.a.ce, 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 h.e.l.l, 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 s.h.i.+fting of metal and some fabric flapping, as if he were pulling on a fresh s.h.i.+rt. 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 doork.n.o.b, 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. G.o.d, 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 Twenty-seven.

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... G.o.d, 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 b.u.t.ts 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.