Turning away from the window, she paced around the king-size bed with its silk sheets and horrible memories. . and went by the marble bathroom. . and kept going by the door that led out into the hall. Given the way things went with her captor, it wasnt as if she needed more exercise, but she couldnt keep still, her body twitchy and humming.
Shed done this against-her-will thing once before. Knew how the mind, like a starved body, could cannibalize itself after too long if you didnt feed it something to churn over.
Her favorite distraction? Mixed drinks. After having worked in clubs for years, she knew legions of cocktails and concoctions and she ran through them, picturing the bottles and the glasses and the pouring and the ice and the spice.
That Bartender-pedia routine had kept her sane.
Up until now, she had banked on a mistake, a slipup, an opportunity for escape. None had come and that hope was starting to fade, exposing a huge black hole that was ready to eat her. So she just kept making drinks in her head and searching for her opening.
And her past experience helped in a strange way. Whatever happened here, however bad it got, however much it hurt physically, it was nothing compared to what shed been through before.
This was the minor leagues.
Or. . at least she told herself that. Sometimes it felt worse.
More with the pacing, past the two bay windows in front, by the bureau, and then around the bed again. This time she went into the bathroom. There were no razors or brushes or combs, just some towels that were slightly damp and a bar of soap or two.
When Lash had abducted her, using the same kind of magic that was keeping her in this suite of rooms, he had brought her to this elegant crib of his and their first night and day together had been indicative of how it was going to be.
In the mirror over the double sinks, she saw herself and performed a dispassionate review of her body. There were bruises all over her. . cuts and scrapes, too. He was brutal in what he did, and she fought back because shed be damned if she let him kill herso it was hard to tell what marks had been made by him and what had been incidental to what shed done to the bastard.
Get his ass naked in front of some glass, and shed bet her last breath he didnt look any better than she did.
Eye for an eye.
The unfortunate corollary was that he liked that she met fire with fire. The more they battled it out, the more he got turned on, and she sensed he was surprised at his own emotions. For the first couple of days, hed been in punishment mode, trying to pay her back for what shed done to his last girlfriendevidently, those bullets shed put in that bitchs chest had really ticked his shit off. But then things had changed. Hed started to talk less about his ex and more about body parts and fantasies involving a future that included her bearing his spawn.
Pillow talk for the sociopath.
Now his eyes glowed for another reason when he came to her, and if he knocked her out, she usually regained consciouness with him wrapped around her body.
Xhex turned away from her reflection, and froze before taking another step.
Someone was downstairs.
Leaving the bathroom, she went to the door that led out into the hall and inhaled slow and deep. As the scent of sweaty roadkill wafted into her sinuses, it was clear whatever was hoofing around down below was a lesserbut it wasnt Lash.
Nope, this was his minion, the one who came every night before her captor arrived to make him something to eat. Which meant Lash was on the way to the brownstone.
Man, wasnt it just her luck: She got snatched by the only member of the Lessening Society who ate and fucked. The rest of them were impotent as a ninety-year-old and existed on an air diet, but Lash? Fucker was fully functional.
Going back over to the window, she put her hand out toward the glass. The boundary that marked her prison was an energy field that felt like a prickling heat as she came into contact with it. The damn thing was like an invisi-fence for things bigger than dogswith the added bene of no collar being required.
There was a little give in it. . as she pressed forward, there was a hint of flexibility, but only up to a point. Then the molecules that were agitated pulled together and the burning sensation got so acute she had to shake her hand out and walk off the pain.
As she waited for Lash to come back to her, her mind drifted to the male she tried never to think of.
Especially if Lash was around. It was unclear how much her captor could get into her head, but she didnt want to take chances. If the bastard got an itch that that mute soldier was her well-of-soul, as her people called it, he would use that against her. . and John Matthew.
An image of the male came to her mind, his blue eyes resonating in her recollection so clearly, she could see the flecks of navy in them. God, those beautiful blue eyes.
She could remember when she first met him, back when he was a pretrans. He had looked at her with such awe and wonder, as if she were larger than life, a revelation. Of course, at that point, all she knew was that he was packing heat in ZeroSum, and as head of security for the club, shed been hell-bent on disarming him and throwing him out into the street. But then shed learned the Blind King was his whard and that had changed everything.
Following the happy little news flash about who was all up in his biz, John was not just welcome to be armed; he was a special guest, along with his two boys. After that, hed come in regularly and had always watched her, those blue eyes on her wherever she was. And then hed transitioned. Holy hell, had he turned into a big one, and abruptly that stare had something hot added to the gentle shyness.
It had taken a lot to kill that kindness. But true to her assassins nature, shed managed to strangle the warmth out ofthe way he looked at her.
Focusing on the street below, she thought of that time they had been together at her basement place. After the sex, when hed tried to kiss her, when his blue eyes had glowed with the trademark vulnerability and compassion shed come to associate with him, shed pulled away and shut him down.
It was a case of lost nerve. She just couldnt handle the pressure of all that hearts-and-flowers stuff. . or the responsibility that came with being around someone who felt like that about her. . or the reality that she had the capacity to love him back.
The payback had been the death of that special look.
The solace she took was that among the males who were likely to try to come after herRehvenge, iAm, and Trez. . the BrotherhoodJohn was not on a crusade. If he was searching for her, it was because he had to as a soldier, not because he was compelled to as part of a personal suicide mission.
No, John Matthew wouldnt be on the warpath because of how he felt about her.
And having already watched a male of worth destroy himself trying to rescue her, at least she didnt have to do that again.
As the smell of fresh grilling steak permeated the brownstone, she shut off her thoughts and gathered her will around her like a suit of armor.
Her lover would be here any minute, so she needed to batten down her mental hatches and get ready for tonights battle. Pervasive exhaustion dragged at her, but her will ushered that deadweight out on its ass. She needed to feed, even more than she needed proper sleep, but neither of those was happening anytime soon.
It was a question of putting one foot in front of the other until something broke.
That and taking out the male who dared to hold her against her will.
TWO
Chronologically speaking, Blaylock son of Rocke had known John Matthew for just over a year.
But that was not a true reflection of the bromance. There were two timelines to peoples lives: the absolute and the perceived. The absolute was the universal day-and-night cycle that for them added up to something like three hundred and sixty-five. Then there was the way that time period had gone, the events, the deaths, the destruction, the training, the fighting.
He figured all told. . that pegged the two of them at about four hundred thousand years.
And counting, he thought, looking over at his buddy.
John Matthew was staring at the ink designs on the walls of the tat place, his eyes going over the skulls and daggers and American flags and Chinese symbols. With his size, he absolutely dwarfed the three- room shopto the point where it was like he came from another planet. In contrast to his pretrans state, the guy now had the muscle mass of a pro wrestler, although because his skeleton was so big, the weight was stretched out on long bones, giving him a more elegant look than those swolld up humans in tights. Hed taken to buzz-cutting his dark hair and this made the lines of his face seem harsh rather than handsomewith the dark circles under his eyes giving the hard-ass look some serious backup.
Life had beaten the shit out of him, but instead of folding, each strike and blow had forged him harder and stronger and tougher. He was straight steel now, nothing lingering of the boy hed once been.
But that was growing up for you. Not only your body changed; your head did, too.
Staring at his friend, the loss of innocence seemed a crime.
And on that note, the receptionist behind the counter caught Blays attention. She was leaning on the glass display of piercing supplies, her breasts swelling against the black bra and black muscle shirt she was wearing. She had two sleeves, one in black and white and one in black and red, and she had gunmetal gray hoops in her nose, her eyebrows, and both ears. Amid all the tat drawings on the walls, she was a living example of the work you could get if you wanted. A very sexy, hard-core example. . who had lips the color of red wine and hair the color of night.
Everything about her matched Qhuinn. She was like a female him.
And what do you know. Qhuinns mixed eyes had already locked on her and he was smiling tightly in his trademark gotcha way.
Blay slipped a hand into his leather jacket and felt around for his pack of Dunhill reds. Man, nothing made him jones for a smoke more than Qhuinns love life.
And clearly hed be lighting up another couple coffin nails tonight: Qhuinn sauntered over to the receptionist and drank her in like she was a long, tall beer fresh from the tap and hed been working in the heat for hours. His eyes locked on her breasts as he traded names with her, and she helped him get a clearer picture of her assets by easing forward onto her forearms.
Good thing vampires didnt get cancer.
Blay turned his back on the Spice Channel by the cash register and went over to stand next to John Matthew.
Thats cool. Blay pointed at a dagger sketch.
You going to get ink ever? John signed.
I dont know.
God knew he liked it on skin. .
His stare shifted back over to Qhuinn. The guys huge body was arching into the human woman, his broad shoulders and his tight hips and his long, powerful legs guaranteeing her one hell of a ride.
He was amazing at sex.
Not that Blay would know firsthand. Hed seen it and hed heard it. . and hed imagined what it would be like. But when the opportunity had arisen, hed been relegated to a small, special class: denied.
Actually, it was more of a category than a class. . because he was the only one who Qhuinn would not have sex with.
Um. . is it going to sting like this forever? a female voice asked.
As a deep male rumble replied, Blay glanced over to the tat chair. The blond whod just been worked on was gingerly tucking her shirt in over her cellophane bandage and staring at the guy whod inked her like he was a doctor telling her the odds of surviving rabies.
The pair of girls then went over to the receptionist, where the uninked one whod changed her mind got a refund and both of them checked out Qhuinn.
It was like that wherever the guy went and it used to be the kind of thing that made Blay worship his best friend. Now, it was a never-ending rejection: every time Qhuinn said yes, it made that one single no louder.
Im ready if you guys are, the tattoo artist called out.
John and Blay headed to the rear of the shop and Qhuinn dropped the receptionist like a bad habit and followed. One good thing about him was the seriousness with which he took his role as Johns ahstrux nohtrum: he was supposed to be around the guy twenty-four/seven, and that was a responsibility he took more seriously even than sex.
As John sat in the padded chair in the center of the workspace, he took out a piece of paper and unfolded it on the artists counter.
The man frowned and looked over what John had sketched out. So its these four symbols across your upper shoulders?
John nodded and signed, You can embellish them any way you want, but they have to be clear.
After Qhuinn translated, the artist nodded. Cool. He grabbed a black pen and started making a picture box of elegant swirls around the simple design. What are these things, by the way?
Just symbols, Qhuinn answered.
The artist nodded again and kept sketching. Hows this?
All three of them leaned in.
Man, Qhuinn said softly. Thats vicious.
It was. It was absolutely perfect, the kind of thing John would wear on his skin with pridenot that anyone would see the Old Language characters or all that spectacular swirl work. What was spelled out was not something he wanted widely known, but that was the thing with tats: they didnt have to be public, and God knew the guy had plenty of T-shirts to cover up with.
When John nodded, the artist stood up. Let me get the transfer paper. Copying it onto you wont take long and then well get to work.
As John put a crystal jar of ink on the counter and started to take off his jacket, Blay sat on a stool and held out his arms. Given the number of weapons John was packing in his pockets, it wouldnt do anyone any good for him to just hang his shit up on a hook.
When he was shirtless, John settled into a forward lean position, his heavy arms resting on a padded bar stand. After the tattoo artist got the image on the transfer paper, the guy smoothed the sheet over Johns upper back, then peeled it off.
The design formed a perfect arch across the span of muscles, taking up all of Johns considerable acreage.
The Old Language really was beautiful, Blay thought.
Staring at the symbols, for one brief, ridiculous moment he imagined his own name across Qhuinns shoulders, carved into that smooth skin in the manner of the mating ritual.
Never going to happen. They were destined to be best friends. . which, compared to strangers, was something huge. Compared to lovers? It was the cold side of a locked door.
He glanced over at Qhuinn. The guy had one eye on John and one eye on the receptionistwho had locked the front door and come to stand by his side.
Behind the fly of his leathers, the bulge he was sporting was obvious.
Blay looked down at the mess of clothes in his lap. One by one, he carefully folded the undershirt, the long-sleeve, and then Johns jacket. When he glanced up, Qhuinn was running his forefinger slowly down the womans arm.
They were going to end up ducking behind that curtain over to the left. The front door to the shop was secured, the curtain was fairly thin, and Qhuinn would do the woman with his weapons on. So John would be safe at all times. . and that itch would get scratched.
Which meant Blay would only have to suffer hearing them.
Better than the full bifta. Especially because Qhuinn was beautiful to watch when he had sex. Just. . beautiful.
Back when Blay had tried to do the hetero thing, the two had tag-teamed a number of human femalesnot that he could have recalled any of the womens faces, bodies, or names.
It had always been about Qhuinn for him. Always.
The nibbling pain of the tattoo needle was a pleasure.
As John shut his eyes and breathed deep and slow, he thought about the intersection of metal and skin, how the sharp entered the soft, how the blood flowed. . how you knew exactly where the penetration was.
Like right now, the tattoo artist was directly over the top of his spine.
John had a lot of experience with the whole slice-and-dice shitonly on a much larger scale, and more as a giver rather than a receiver. Sure, hed been cut up out in the field a couple of times, but hed left more than his fair share of holes behind, and like the tattoo artist, he always took his equipment to work with him: His jacket carried all kinds of daggers and switches, even a length of chain. Also a matched set of just-in-case guns.
Well. . all that and a pair of barbed cilices.
Not that he ever used those on the enemy.
No, those werent weapons. And although they hadnt been cinched on anyones thigh for almost four weeks now, they werent useless. Currently, they functioned as a kind of fucked-up security blanket. Without them, he felt naked.
Thing was, those brutal ties were the only tie he had to the one he loved. Which, considering the way things had been left between them, made cosmic sense.
They didnt go far enough for him, however. What Xhex had worn around her legs to tame her symphath side didnt offer the kind of permanence he was looking for, and that was what had led him to his own metal-on-skin convention. When he was through here, she would always be with him. In his skin as well as under it. On his shoulders as well as his mind.
Hopefully this human was doing a good job with the design.
When the Brothers needed tattoos for whatever reason, Vishous worked the needle and the guy was a pro at ithell, the red tear on Qhuinns face and the black scrolling date around the back of his neck were spank. Trouble was, you went to V with a job like this one and suddenly there were going to be questionsnot just from him, but from everyone else.
Not many secrets in the Brotherhood, and John would just as soon keep his feelings for Xhex to himself.
The truth was. . he was in love with her. Totally over-the-line, no-going-back, not-even-dead-would-he-part kind of shit. And although his hearts and flowers hadnt been unrequited, that didnt matter. Hed come to peace with the fact that the one he wanted didnt want him.
What he could not live with was her being tortured or dying a slow, excruciating death.
Or him not being able to give her a proper burial.
He was obsessed with her disappearance. Single-minded to the point of self-destruction. Brutal and unforgiving toward the one whod taken her. But that was nobody elses biz.
The only good thing in the sitch was that the Brotherhood was likewise committed to figuring out what the hell had happened to her. The Brothers didnt leave anyone behind on a mission, and when theyd gone up to get Rehvenge out of that symphath colony, Xhex had been very much a member of the team. When the dust had cleared, and shed disappeared entirely, the assumption was that shed been abducted, and there were two possible ways to go: symphaths or lessers.
Which was kind of like saying, Do you want her to come down with polio or Ebola?
Everyone, including John, Qhuinn, and Blay, was on the case. As a result? It just looked as though finding her was part of Johns job as a soldier in war.
The humming of the needle stopped and the artist wiped at his back.
Its looking good, the guy said, resuming his work. You want to do it in two sessions or just this one.
John glanced at Blay and signed.
He says he wants it done tonight if you have the time, Blay translated.
Yeah, I can do that. Mar? Call Rick and tell him Im going to be late.
Dialing as we speak, the receptionist said.
Nope, John wasnt going to let the Brothers see this inkno matter how great it looked.
The way he saw it, hed been born in a bus station and left for dead. Thrown into the human child welfare system. Picked up by Tohr and his mate, only to have her killed and the guy disappear. And now Z, whod been the one assigned to reach out to him, was understandably busy with his shellan and their new young.
Even Xhex had shut him out before the tragedy.
So, whatever, he could take a hint. Besides, it was curiously liberating not to give a shit about anyone elses opinion. Freed him up to nurture his violent obsession with tracking down her abductor and ripping the fucker limb from limb.
You mind telling me what this is? the tattoo guy asked.
John lifted his eyes and figured there was no reason to lie to the human. Besides, Blay and Qhuinn knew the truth.
Blay looked a little surprised, but then translated. He says its his girls name.
Ah. Yeah, I figured. You two getting married?
After John signed, Blay said, Its a memorial.
There was a pause and then the tattoo guy put his gun down on the rolling table where the ink was. After yanking up the sleeve of his black shirt, he put his forearm in front of John. On it was the picture of a gorgeous woman, her hair breezing out over her shoulder, her eyes focused so that she looked out of his skin.
That was my girl. Shes not here anymore either. With a sharp tug, the guy covered up the picture. So I get it.
As the needle got back to work, John found it difficult to breathe. The idea that Xhex was probably dead by now ate him alive. . and what was worse was imagining the way she might have died.
John knew whod taken her. There was only one logical explanation: While she had gone into the labyrinth and helped to free Rehvenge, Lash had shown up, and when hed disappeared so had she. Not a coincidence. And though no one had seen anything, there had been about a hundred symphaths in the cave where Rehv had been and a lot going on. . and Lash was not your garden-variety lesser.
Oh, no. . he was apparently the son of the Omega. The very spawn of evil. And that meant the cocksucker had tricks.
John had seen a few of his fancy dancies up close and personal during the fight at the colony: If the guy could palm up energy bombs and go nose-to-nose with Rhages beast, then why couldnt he snatch someone right from under everyones noses. The thing was, if Xhex had been killed that night, they would have found a body. If she was breathing, but had an injury, she would have telepathically reached out symphath-to-symphath to Rehvenge. And if she was alive, but needed a little vacation, she would have left only after she was sure everyone else was home safe.
The Brothers were working off the same logical assumptions, so they were all out looking for lessers. And although most of the vampires had left Caldwell for out of state safe houses after the raids, the Lessening Society, under Lashs rule, had turned to drug dealing to make ends meet, and that went down mainly around the clubs here in town on Trade Street. Trolling seedy alleys was the name of the game, with everyone looking for things that were undead and smelled like a cross between a bled-out skunk and a Glade PlugIn.
Four weeks and theyd found nothing other than signs that lessers were moving product on the street to humans.
John was going insane, mostly from all the not-knowing and the fear, but partially from having to hold his violence inside. Although it was amazing what you could do when you had no choicehe had to appear normal and levelheaded if he wanted to be a part of this, so that was what he presented himself to be.
And this tattoo? It was a stake shoved into the territory he was in. His declaration that even if Xhex hadnt wanted him, she was his mate and he would honor her, alive or dead. Here was the thing: People felt the way they did and it wasnt their fault or yours if the connection was one-sided. It just. . was.
God, he wished he hadnt been so cold when theyd had sex the second time.
That final time.
Abruptly, he cut off his emotions, putting that genie of sadness and regret and rejection back into its bottle. He couldnt allow himself to break down. He had to keep going, keep searching, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Time was moving forward even though he wanted to slow it down so that they had a better chance of finding her alive.
The clock was not interested in his opinions, however.
Dear God, he thought. Please let me not fail in this.
THREE
Induction? What, like its a fucking club?
As the words bounced around the inside of the Mercedes, Lash tightened his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. He had a switchblade in the inside pocket of his Canali suit and the urge to out the blade and slice this humans throat open was goddamned tempting.
Of course, then hed have a dead body to deal with and blood all over the leather.
Both of which were bores.
He looked across the seats. The one he had picked out of a cast of hundreds was your typical bottom-feeding, drug-dealing, shifty-eyed motherfucker. The kids history of child abuse was written in the old circular scar on his faceperfectly round and the size of the burning end of a cigaretteand his hard life on the street was in his smart, twitchy eyes. His greed was in the way he looked around the inside of the car, like he was trying to figure out how to make it his own, and his resourcefulness was obvious by how quickly hed made a name for himself as a go-to dealer.
More than a club, Lash said in a low voice. Much more. Youve got a future in this business and Im offering it to you on a silver platter. Ill have my men pick you up here tomorrow night.
What if I dont show?
Your choice. Of course, then the fucker was going to wake up dead in the morning, but details, details. .
The kid met Lashs eyes. The human wasnt built like a fighter; he was more the size of someone whod gotten his ass cheeks duct-taped together in the school locker room. But it had become amply clear that the Lessening Society needed two kinds of members now: moneymakers and soldiers. After having had Mr. D scope the Xtreme Park and watch who was moving the most product, this wiry little shit with the reptilian stare was at the top of the heap.
Are you queer? the kid said.
Lash allowed one of his hands to leave the steering wheel and duck into his jacket. Why do you ask that?
You smell like one. Dress like one, too.
Lash moved so fast, his target didnt have a chance to even lean back in the seat. With a quick lunge, he rocked out the switch and laid that sharp blade right against the vital, beating pulse at the side of the white neck.
The only thing I do to males is kill them, Lash said. You want to get fucked like that? Because Im ready if you are.
The kids eyes went cartoon wide and his body trembled beneath his dirty clothes. No. . I dont got a problem with the queers.
Fidiot was missing the point, but whatever. Do we have a deal? Lash said, pressing the point of his knife in. As the penetration was achieved, blood welled up in a bubble and stayed put for a split second, like it was trying to decide whether to flow down the shiny metal or the smooth column of skin.
It picked the blade, meandering forth in a ruby red stream.
Please. . dont kill me.
Whats your answer.
Yeah. Ill do it.
Lash pressed in harder, watching the blood run. He was momentarily captivated by the reality that if he took the weapon and pushed it farther through the flesh, this human would cease to exist, like a breath of air disappearing into a chilly night.
He enjoyed feeling like a god.
As whimpering breached the kids chapped lips, Lash relented, easing back. With a quick lick, he cleaned off the blade and flicked the weapon shut. Youre going to like where you end up. I promise you.
He gave the guy a chance to recover and knew it wasnt going to take long for the kid to get his groove back. Asswipes like this one had egos like balloons. Pressure, particularly the kind that came with a knife at the throat, caused them to collapse in on themselves. But the instant the stress was relieved, they rebounded, puffing back up into place.
The kid snapped his crappy leather jacket down. I like where I is just fine.
Bingo. Then why are you looking at my car like you want it in your garage?