Black Dagger Brotherhood - Lover Eternal Part 42

G.o.d, she'd really gone and done it. Moved in with Rhage and given up on her old life completely.

"I should unpack."

Rhage took her hands and pulled her in the direction of the bed. "I want you to rest. You look too tired to even be standing."

While she stretched out, he took off his trench coat and removed his dagger holster and his gun belt. He eased down next to her, creating a dip in the mattress that sucked her right against him. All the lamps went out at once, the room plunging into ink.

"You sure you're ready for all this?" she said as her eyes adjusted to the ambient glow from the windows. "For all my... stuff?"

"Don't make me use the F-word again."

She laughed. "I won't. It's just-"

"Mary, I love you. I'm more than ready for all your stuff."

She put her hand on his face and they were quiet for a time, just breathing together.

She was on the verge of falling asleep when he said, "Mary, about the arrangements for me to feed. While we were at your house, I called on the Chosen. Now that you're back with me, I'll need to use them."

She stiffened. But h.e.l.l, if she was going to be with a vampire, and he couldn't live off her blood, they were going to have to deal with the problem somehow.

"When will you do it?"

"A female is supposed to be coming tonight, and as I said before, I'd like you to be with me. If you'd be comfortable with that."

What would it look like? she wondered. Would he hold the woman in his arms and drink from her neck? G.o.d, even if he didn't have s.e.x with her, Mary wasn't sure she could watch that.

He kissed her hand. "Trust me. It'll be better this way.""If I don't, ah, if I can't handle it-"

"I won't force you to watch. It's just... there's an unavoidable intimacy to it, and I think you and I will both be more comfortable if you were there. That way you know exactly what's involved. There's nothing hidden or shady about it.""

She nodded. "All right."

He took a deep breath. "It's a fact of life I can't change."

Mary ran her hand down his chest. "You know, even though it's a little frightening, I wish it were me."

"Oh, Mary, so do I."

John checked his watch. Tohrment was coming for him in five minutes, so it was time to head downstairs. He grabbed his suitcase with both hands and headed for the door. He prayed he wouldn't meet the pale man on the way or while he waited, but he wanted to meet Tohrment outside. It felt more equal, somehow.

When he got out to the curb, he looked up at the two windows he'd stared out of for so many hours. He was leaving the mattress and the barbell set behind, as well as his security deposit and last month's rent for breaking his lease. He was going to have to pop back inside for his bike after Tohrment came, but other than that, he was free of the place.

He looked down the street, wondering which direction the man would come from. And what kind of car he drove. And where he lived. And who he was married to.

s.h.i.+vering in the cold, John rechecked his watch. Nine o'clock on the dot.

A single light flared down to the right. He was pretty sure Tohrment wouldn't use a motorcycle to pick him up. But the fantasy of roaring off into the night was a good one.

As the Harley growled by, he looked across the street at the Suicide Prevention Hotline's offices. Mary had missed her Friday- and Sat.u.r.day-night s.h.i.+fts as well, and he truly hoped she was just taking a vacation. As soon as he was settled, he would go see her again and make sure she was okay.

Except... wow, he had no clue where he was going. He was a.s.suming he'd stay in the area, but who knew? Maybe he was going far away. Just imagine that, getting out of Caldwell. G.o.d, he'd like to make a fresh start. And he could always find a way to get to Mary, even if he had to take a bus.

Two more cars and a truck went by.

It had been so easy to pull out of his pathetic existence. No one at Moe's cared that he was leaving without notice because busboys were a dime a dozen. And it went without saying that n.o.body in his building would miss him. Likewise, his address book was clean as a whistle, no friends, no family to call.

Actually, he didn't even have an address book. And how lame was that?

John glanced down at himself, thinking how pitiful he must look. His sneakers were so dirty, the white parts had turned gray. His clothes were clean, but the jeans were two years old, and the b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, the best one he had, looked like a Goodwill reject. He didn't even have a jacket because his parka had been stolen last week from Moe's and he was going to have to save up before he could buy another one.

He wished he looked better.

Headlights swung quickly around the corner off Trade Street and then flashed upward, as if the car's driver were stomping on the accelerator. Which was not good. In this neighborhood, anyone barrel-a.s.sing along was usually running from the cops or something worse.

John stepped behind a dented mailbox, trying to get real inconspicuous, but the black Range Rover skidded to a stop in front of him. Darkened windows. Serious chrome rims. And G-Unit was banging inside, the rap music thumping loud enough to be heard around the block.

John grabbed his suitcase and headed for his building. Even if he ran into the pale man, it would be safer inside the lobby than anywhere near the drug dealer who sported that Rover. He was hustling for the door when the music fell silent.

"You ready, son?"

John turned at the sound of Tohrment's voice. The man was coming around the hood of the car, and in the shadows he was all menace, a hulking figure that sane folks ran from.

"Son? You good to go?"

As Tohrment stepped into the weak light of a streetlamp, John's eyes latched onto the man's face. G.o.d, he'd forgotten how frightening the guy looked with that military-cut hair and that hard jaw.

Maybe this was a bad idea, John thought. A choice made out of fear of one thing that only got him deeper into another kind of trouble. He didn't even know where he was going. And kids like him could end up in the river after they got into a car like that.

With a man like this.

As if he sensed John's indecision, Tohrment leaned back against the Rover and crossed his feet at the ankles.

"I don't want you to feel forced, son. But I'll tell you, my sh.e.l.lan's cooked up a good meal, and I'm hungry. Maybe you come, you eat with us, you see the house. You can check us out. And we can even leave your stuff here. How's that sound?"

The voice was quiet, even. Nonthreatening. But would the guy really pull out the bada.s.s if he wanted to get John in the car?

A cell phone went off. Tohrment reached inside his leather jacket and flipped it open.

"Yeah. Hey, no, I'm right here with him." A small smile broke the line of the man's lips. "We're thinking it over. Yeah, I'll tell him.

Uh-huh. Okay. I will. Yeah, I'll do that, too. Wellsie, I... I know. Look, I didn't mean to leave it out-I won't do it again. I promise. No... Yes, I really... Uh-huh. I'm sorry, leelan."

It was the wife, John thought. And she was giving this tough guy a tongue-las.h.i.+ng. And the man was taking it.

"Okay. I love you. Bye." Tohrment flipped the phone closed and put it in his pocket. When he focused on John again, he clearly respected his wife enough not to roll his eyes and make some macho, s.h.i.+thead comment about pesky women. "Wellsie says she's really looking forward to meeting you. She's hoping you'll stay with us."

Well... okay, then.

Listening to his instincts, which told him Tohrment represented safety regardless of what he looked like, John humped his luggage over to the car.

"This all you have?"

John flushed and nodded.

"You got nothing to be embarra.s.sed about, son," Tohrment said softly. "Not when you're with me."

The man reached out and took the suitcase like it weighed nothing, swinging it casually into the backseat.As Tohrment went to the driver's side, John realized he'd forgotten the bike. He tapped on the Rover's hood to get the man's attention; then he pointed to the building and held up his index finger.

"You need a minute?"

John nodded and shot upstairs to his apartment. He had his bike, and was leaving the keys on the counter, when he paused and looked around. The reality of getting away from the studio made him recognize the squalor of the place. But still, it had been his for a short while, the best he could afford with what little he had. On impulse, he took a pen out of his back pocket, opened one of the flimsy cabinets, and wrote his name and the date on the wall inside.

Then he led his bike out into the hall, shut the door, and moved quickly down the stairwell.

Chapter Thirty-six.

"Mary? Mary, wake up. She's here." Mary felt her shoulder get nudged, and when she opened her eyes Rhage was staring down at her. He'd changed into some kind of white outfit, long-sleeved with loose pants.

She sat up, trying to pull it together. "Can I have a minute?"

"Absolutely."

She went into the bathroom and rinsed off her face. With cold water dripping from her chin, she stared at her reflection. Her lover was about to drink blood. In front of her.

And that wasn't even the weirdest part. She felt inadequate because what was feeding him wasn't hers.

Not about to get pulled into that mental tailspin, she picked up a towel and dried off with a good scrub. There was no time to change out of her blue jeans and sweater. And nothing else she really wanted to wear, at any rate.

As she came out, Rhage was taking off his watch.

"You want me to hold that?" she asked, remembering the last time she'd babysat the Rolex.

He walked over and pressed the heavy weight into her palm. "Kiss me."

She got up on her tiptoes as he leaned down. Their mouths met for a moment.

"Come on." He took her hand and led her out into the hall. When she looked confused, he said, "I don't want to do it in our bedroom. That's our s.p.a.ce."

He took her around the balcony to another guest room. When he opened the door, they went inside together.

Mary smelled roses first and then saw the woman in the corner. Her lush body was draped in a white wraparound gown, and her strawberry-blond hair was coiled up on her head. With the low, wide neckline of the dress and the chignon, her neck was as exposed as possible.

She smiled and bowed, speaking in that unfamiliar language.

"No," Rhage said. "In English. We do this in English."

"Of course, warrior." The woman's voice was high and pure, like a songbird's call. Her eyes, pale green and lovely, lingered on Rhage's face. "I am pleased to serve you."

Mary s.h.i.+fted, trying to quell the urge to defend her turf. Serve him?

"What is your name, Chosen?" Rhage asked.

"I am Layla." She bowed again. As she righted herself, her eyes traveled up Rhage's body.

"This is Mary." He put his arm around her shoulders. "She is my..."

"Girlfriend," Mary said sharply.

Rhage's mouth twitched. "She is my mate."

"Of course, warrior." The woman bowed again, this time toward Mary. When she lifted her face, she smiled warmly. "Mistress, it is my pleasure to serve you as well."

Fine, good, Mary thought. Then how about dragging your skinny a.s.s out of here and making sure your replacement is an ugly, two-toothed gorgon in a muumuu.

"Where would you like me?" Layla asked.

Rhage glanced around the room before focusing on the luxurious canopy bed. "There."

Mary hid her wince. Oh, that was so not her first choice.

Layla went over as told, that silky dress swirling behind her. She sat down on the satin duvet, but when she s.h.i.+fted her legs up, Rhage shook his head.

"No. Stay sitting."

Layla frowned, but didn't argue. She smiled again as he took a step forward.

"Come on," he said, pulling on Mary's hand.

"This is close enough."

He kissed her and went over to the woman, sinking to his knees in front of her. When her hands went to her gown as if she were going to undo it, Rhage stopped her.

"I drink from the wrist," he said. "And you are not to touch me."

Dismay played over Layla's features, widening her eyes. This time, when she inclined her head, it seemed out of shame, not deference. "I have been properly cleansed for your use. You may inspect me, should you wish."

Mary clamped a hand over her mouth. That this woman saw herself as nothing more than an object to be handled was appalling.

Rhage shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the answer, too.