He was bringing her to the edge, taking her with him, giving back as much as he was getting, when he knew he needed more. He wanted to be in her when she came. Then he would be completed in some ethereal way, made whole inside his skin.
It was a bonded males drive and necessity. What he had to have in order to feel at peace.
Lifting his lips from her breast, he dragged his hand from her sex and repositioned himself so that his glossy cock was poised over her open legs. Meeting her eyes in the incendiary moment, he brushed the short hair around her face. Slowly, he dropped his mouth downward
No, she said. Thats not what this is about.
John Matthew shot upright, the fantasy of the dream shattered, his chest banding in frigid cords of pain.
With disgust, he let go of his arousalnot that he was hard anymore. His cock had positively shriveled up, in spite of the orgasm that had been on its way out of the things head.
Thats not what this is about.
Unlike the dream, which had been a total hypothetical, those words were ones shed actually said to himand in precisely that sexual context.
As he looked down at his naked body, the releases hed had, the ones hed imagined hed had on her, were all over his belly and the sheets.
Why the hell did that spell out alone like nothing else could.
Glancing at the clock, he saw hed slept through his alarm. Or more likely he hadnt bothered to set it. One bene to insomnia was that you didnt need to recharge your phone from all the snooze buttons you hit.
In the shower, he washed himself quickly and started with his cock. He hated what hed done in that odd half-asleep zone. It felt totally wrong to jerk off, considering the situation, and from now on, he was going to sleep in his jeans if he had to.
Although knowing his hand, the damn thing would have probably ended up behind the fly anyway.
Fuck it, he was gonna chain his wrists to the frickin headboard.
After he shaved, which like tooth maintenance was out of habit rather than pride in his appearance, he braced his palms on the marble and leaned into the main spray nozzle, letting the water sweep over him.
Lessers were impotent. Lessers. . were impotent.
Hanging his head, he felt the hot rush over the back of his skull.
Sex kicked up all kinds of bad shit for him, and as the image of a grungy stairwell bloomed like a stain on his brain, he popped his lids and dragged himself back to the present. Not that it was an improvement.
Hed have gone through what had happened to him a thousand times to save Xhex from being mistreated that way once.
Oh. . God. .
Lessers were impotent. Always had been.
Moving like a zombie, he stepped out, dried himself, and headed for the bedroom to get dressed. Just as he was pulling on his leathers, his phone went off and he reached over to his jacket to fish the thing out.
Flipping it open. . he found a text from Trez.
All it said was: 189 st. francis ave 10 2nite.
Clipping the phone closed, his heart beat with brutal intent. Any crack in the foundation. . he was just looking for one little crack in Lashs world, a fissure, something he could wedge himself into and blow the whole fucking thing to pieces.
Xhex might well be dead, and this new reality without her might be his forever more, but that didnt mean he couldnt avenge her.
In the bathroom, he strapped on his chest holster, weaponed up, and after grabbing his jacket, he went out into the hall. Pausing, he thought of all the people who would be gathering downstairs. . as well as the time. Shutters were still down.
Instead of going left toward the grand staircase and the foyer, he went right. . and walked silently in spite of his shitkickers.
Blaylock left his room a little before six because he wanted to check in on John. Usually the guy gave a knock around mealtime, but there had been none. Which meant he was either dead or dead drunk.
At his buddys door, he paused and leaned in. Nothing doing on the other side that he could hear.
After a soft knock wasnt answered, he pulled a fuck-it and opened the thing in. Man, the place looked ransacked, with clothes everywhere and a bed that might possibly have been used as a demolition derby site.
He in there?
At the sound of Qhuinns voice, he stiffened and had to stop himself from turning around. No reason to. He knew that the guy would be wearing some kind of Sid Vicious or Nine Inch Nails or Slipknot T-shirt tucked into black leathers. And that his hard face would be cleanly shaven and very smooth. And that his spiky black hair would be slightly wet from the shower.
Blay walked into Johns space and headed for the bathroom, figuring his actions would answer the question well enough. J? Where are you, J?
When he pushed his way into all that marble, the air was thick with humidity and smelled like Ivory soap, which was what John used. Wet towel was on the counter.
As he turned around to go, he slammed right into Qhuinns chest.
The impact was like getting hit with a car and his best friend reached out to steady him.
Oh, no. No touching.
Blay stepped back quickly and stared out into the bedroom. Sorry. There was an odd pause. Hes not here.
Duh.
Qhuinn leaned to the side and put his face, that beautiful face, in the line of Blays vision. When the guy straightened, Blays eyes followed because they had to.
You dont look at me anymore.
No, he didnt. Yes, I do.
Desperate to get away from that blue-and-green stare, he cut himself some slack and went over to the towel. Wadding it up, he shoved the thing down the laundry chute, and damn if the cramming didnt help a little.
Especially as he imagined it was his own head he was forcing into the hole.
Blay was calmer when he turned around. Even met those eyes. Im going down to dinner.
He was feeling quite proud of himself as he walked by
Qhuinns hand snapped out and latched onto his forearm, stopping him dead. We have a problem. You and me.
Do we. Not a question. Because this was one convo he had no interest in encouraging.
What the hell is the matter with you?
Blay blinked. What was wrong with him? He wasnt the one fucking anything with a hole.
No, he was the pathetic fidiot who pined for his best friend. Which put him into wee-wee-wee-all-the-way-home territory. Any closer to chicking out and hed have to carry Kleenex tucked into his sleeve to catch his tears.
Unfortunately, the flash of anger deflated fast and left him hollow. Nothing. Theres nothing wrong.
Bullshit.
Right. Okay. This was unfair. Theyd already been over this territory and Qhuinn might be a slut, but the guys memory was perfectly functional.
Qhuinn. . Blay shoved a hand into his hair.
On cue, that fucking Bonnie Raitt song shot into his brain, her rich voice singing. . I cant make you love me if you dont. . You cant make your heart feel something it wont. .
Blay had to laugh.
Whats so funny?
Is it possible to be castrated without being aware of it?
Now Qhuinn was doing the blink. Not unless youre really fucking drunk.
Well, Im sober. Dead sober. As usual. And on that note, maybe he needed to take a page from Johns book and start liquoring it up. I think I might have to change that, however. Excuse me
Blay
No. You do not get to Blay me like that. He stuck his finger in his best friends face. You just do your thing. Its what youre best at. Leave me alone.
He walked out, his head tangled but his feet mercifully on the ball.
Taking the hall of statues down to the grand staircase, he passed by the Greco-Roman masterpieces, and ran his eyes over those male bodies. Naturally, he Photoshopd Qhuinns head on top of each one
You dont have to change anything. Qhuinn was right on his tail, the words low.
Blay got to the head of the stairs and looked down. The yawning, resplendent foyer before him was like a gift you opened with your body as you entered it, each step forward bringing you into a visual embrace of color and gold.
Perfect place for a mating ceremony, he thought for no particular reason.
Blay. Come on. Nothing has changed.
He glanced over his shoulder. Qhuinns pierced brows were tight, his eyes fierce. But as much as it was clear the guy wanted to keep talking, Blay was so done.
He started down the steps, moving fast.
And was not at all surprised when Qhuinn stuck with himand the conversation. What the hells that supposed to mean?
Oh, right, like they needed to do this in front of the people in the dining room. Qhuinn was fine with audiences for all sorts of things, but Blay did not find peanut galleries helpful in the slightest.
He marched back up two steps, until they were face-to-face. What was her name?
Qhuinn recoiled. Excuse me?
The receptionists name.
What receptionist?
From last night. At the tat shop.
Qhuinn rolled his eyes. Oh, come on
Her name.
God, I have no fucking clue. Qhuinn went palms-up, the universal language for whatever. Why does it matter?
Blay opened his mouth, on the verge of spelling out that what had meant nothing to Qhuinn had been hell to watch. But then he knew it would sound possessive and stupid.
Instead of talking, he reached into his pocket, took out his Dunhills, and fingered one up. Popping it into his mouth, he lit the thing while staring into those mismatched eyes.
I hate that you smoke, Qhuinn muttered.
Get over it, Blay said, turning away and heading downward.
ELEVEN
Where you going, John?
Down in the mudroom at the back of the mansion, John froze with his hand on one of the doors that led into the garage. Goddamn it. . a house this big, youd think you could leave without an audience. But no. . eyes everywhere. Opinions. . everywhere.
It was like the orphanage in that respect.
He turned and faced Zsadist. The Brother had a napkin in one hand and a baby bottle in the other, having obviously just gotten up from the dining room table and come in through the kitchen. And gee, guess what. . next person through the door was Qhuinn, and he had a half-eaten turkey leg with him as if it were his last hope of food for, like, the next ten hours.
Blays arrival turned it into a fucking convention.
Z nodded at the grip Johns hand had on the knob, somehow managing to look like a serial killer in spite of the baby paraphernalia. Probably the facial scar. More likely the eyes that were flashing black.
I asked you a question, boy.
Im taking the frickin garbage out.
So wheres your Rubbermaid.
Qhuinn polished off his dinner and then deliberately walked over to the trash bins to toss the cleaned-off bone. Yeah, John. You wanna answer that.
No, he fucking didnt.
Im out of here, he signed.
Z leaned forward and planted a palm on the door panels, the napkin hanging loose like a flag. Youve been taking off a little earlier and a little earlier every night, but youve reached the cutoff. Im not letting you go this early. Youll be burned to a crisp. And P.S., if you ever think of leaving without your private guard again, Wraths going use your face as a hammer, feel me?
Jesus fucking Christ, John. Qhuinns voice was a growl of disgust and he had an expression on his puss like someone had cleaned a bathroom with his bedsheets. Ive never stopped you. Ever. But you fuck me like this?
John stared at a place somewhere over Zs left ear. There was a temptation to sign that hed heard when the Brother had been looking for Bella, hed gone shit wild and done all kinds of crazy things. Except bringing up that shellan s abduction was a red cape in front of a bull and John was already doing the cloven-hoof thing about a female. Two would be overkill.
Zs voice dropped. Whats doing, John?
He stayed quiet.
John. Z leaned in further. I will beat an answer out of you if I have to.
Just got the time wrong. The lie sucked ass, because if that were true, hed have made a move to go out the front door and not covered his tracks with the trash story. But he honestly didnt care whether the bucket that carried his bullshit had a hole in the bottom.
Im not buying it. Z straightened and checked his watch. And youre not leaving for another ten minutes.
John crossed his arms over his chest to keep from commenting on the lockdown, and as the Jeopardy! theme played in his head, he felt like he was going to explode.
Zs hard stare sure as hell didnt help.
Ten minutes later, the sound of those shutters lifting all around the mansion broke up the standoff and Z nodded at the door. Okay, go now if you want. At least you wont fry out. John turned away. I catch you without your ahstrux nohtrum again, Im turning you in.
Qhuinn cursed. Yeah, and then Ill get fired. Which means Vll Donald Trump my ass with a dagger. Youre welcome.
John gripped the knob and yanked his way out of the house, his skin feeling too tight. He didnt want trouble with Z because he respected the guy, but he was pretty damned volatile and the trend suggested that was only going to get more true.
In the garage, he hung a louie and headed for the outside door that was on the back wall. As he went along, he refused to look at the coffins that were stacked across the way. Nope. Didnt need the image of even one in his head right now. Sixteen? Whatever.
Opening the steel door, he stepped onto the long rolling lawn that stretched out around the drained swimming pool and eased down to the forest edge and the retaining wall. He knew that Qhuinn was right on his ass because the scent of disapproval contaminated the fresh air sure as mold in a basement. And Blay was with them as well, going by the cologne.
Just as he was about to dematerialize, his arm was grabbed hard. As he wheeled around to tell Qhuinn to fuck himself, he stopped.
Blay was the one doing the holding and the redheads blue eyes were burning.
The guy signed as opposed to spoke, probably because it forced John to pay attention.
You want to get yourself killed, fine. At this point, Im resigning myself to that possibility. But you dont endanger others. I wont stand for that. Dont leave without telling Qhuinn again.
John glanced over the guys shoulder at Qhuinn, who was looking as if he wanted to hit something he was so frustrated. Ah, so that was why Blay was doing the signing thing. Didnt want the third wheel in this dysfunctional triumvirate to see what was being said.
We clear? Blay signed.
It was a rarity that Blay ever punched a hole in the wall of opinion. And that made John explain himself.
I cant promise I wont need to bolt, John signed. Just cant do it. But I will swear that I will tell him. At least that way he can get out of the house.
John
He shook his head and squeezed Blays arm. I just cant promise anyone that. Not with where my heads at. But I wont leave without telling him where Im going or when Ill be back.
Blays jaw worked, clenching and releasing. He wasnt stupid, however. He knew when there was a nonnegotiable on the table. Okay. I can live with that.
You two want to share some love? Qhuinn demanded.
John stepped back and signed, Were going to the Xtreme Park until ten. Then we go to St. Francis Avenue. Trez texted me.
He dematerialized, traveling south and west, taking form behind the shed theyd hung around the night before. As his crew appeared behind him, he ignored the tension that clouded and weighted down the air.
Staring across the concrete, he traced the various players. That young gun with the busy pockets was still smack in the center of it all, leaning against one of the ramps, flicking a lighter so that it sparked but didnt catch. There were about a half dozen skaters riding the hard stone and another dozen talking and spinning the wheels on their boards. Seven cars of various meh description were parked in the lot, and as the police rolled by slowly and kept going, John was feeling like this was a colossal waste of time.
Maybe if they headed deeper into downtown and trolled the alleys theyd have more
The Lexus that wheeled up into the lot didnt park in one of the spaces. It stopped perpendicular to those seven rear bumpers. . and what got out from behind the wheel looked like a high school kid, what with the baggy jeans and the cowboy hat.
But the breeze that floated over smelled like a morgue with no central AC.
And also of. . Old Spice?
John straightened, his heart going all hi-howre-ya. His first thought was to lunge out and tackle the bastard, but Qhuinn caught him with an arm bar.
Wait for it, the guy said. Better to find out the whys.
John knew his buddy was right, so he pulled the parking brake on his body and got busy memorizing the license plate on the chromed-out LS 600h.
The sedans other doors opened and three guys got out. They were not as pale as really old lessers got, but they were a fair shade of white boy, for sure, and they stank to high heaven.
Man, that baby-powder shit was straight-up nasty in the nose.
With one slayer staying behind to watch the ride, the other two fell into formation with the little cowboy in front. As they walked onto the concrete, all the eyes in the park went to them.
The kid by the middle ramp straightened and put his lighter in his pocket.
Shit, I wish we had my fucking ride, Qhuinn whispered.
True enough. Unless there was a skyscraper nearby where they could get a roofs-eye view, there would be no way of tracking the Lexus.
The dealer didnt move as he was approached and didnt seem surprised by the visit, so chances were this was an arranged meeting. And what do you know, after some conversating, the slayers surrounded the guy and the bunch walked back over to the sedan.
All but one lesser got in the car.
Decision time. Did they bust into a vehicle, hot-wire it, and take off in pursuit? Did they materialize onto the hood of the fucking Lexus and throw down? Trouble was, both of those solutions ran the risk of a serious disturbance of the peaceand there was only so much mental cleanup they could do on a group of twenty humans.
I think ones staying behind, Qhuinn murmured.
Yup. Flyboy was getting left in the lot as the Lexus K-turned and started to head out.
Letting the car go was the hardest thing John had ever done. But the reality was, that bunch of bastards had just picked up one of the prime dealers of the territoryso they were going to be back. And theyd left a lesser behind.
So there were things to keep him and his boys busy.
John watched the slayer walk into the park. Unlike the guy he was taking the place of, he was a roamer, pacing off the perimeter, meeting all of the eyes that were on him. He clearly made the skaters anxious and a couple of them whod made buys the night before left. But not everyone was wary. . or sober enough to be concerned.
As a soft ticking sound rose up, John looked down at himself. His foot was tapping in the dirt, going up and down as fast as a rabbits.
But he wasnt going to blow it. He waited behind the shed. . and waited. . and waited.
It took the fucker nearly an hour to wander his nasty ass around, but when he was finally in range, all that foot tapping was so worth it.
With a quick shot of mental will, John canned the closest street lantern to give them a little privacy. And as the bastard looked up, John stepped out from behind the shed.
The lessers head snapped around and clearly he recognized that the war had just come and knocked on his door: The sonofabitch smiled and put his hand into his jacket.
John was not concerned that he was going to flash heat. The one rule of engagement was that there was no going at it in front of human bystand
An autoloader appeared and went off in a quick one-two punch, the discharged shot sounding out with a pop that carried loud as a curse through the park.
John dived for cover, a whole lot of what-the-fuck giving him wings. And then more bullets went flying, the lead ricocheting off concrete as humans screamed and scrambled.
Behind the shed, he slammed his back against the wood and pulled his own piece. As Blay and Qhuinn slid into home, there was a split second of whos-bleeding? that coincided with a pause in the bullet shower.
What the fuck is he thinking? Qhuinn signed. Public much?
Heavy footsteps approached and there was the clicking sound of a sleeve of ammo being changed. John glanced at the shed door. The Master Lock on a chain was a godsend, and he reached up with his palm, mentally unlocking the thing and slipping it free of its links so that it hung loose.
Go around the next corner, John told his boys. And make like youre wounded.
Oh, hell, no
John swung his gun muzzle into Qhuinns face.
As the guy recoiled, John just stared right into his buddys blue and green eyes. This was going down Johns way: He was going to be the one to do business with the slayer. End of discussion.
Fuck. You, Qhuinn mouthed before he and Blay dematerialized.
With a loud groan, John let himself fall hard to the side, his body hitting the ground like a massive bag of concrete. Sprawling out on his stomach, he kept his SIG under his chest with the safety still off.
The footsteps grew closer. And so did a low laugh, like the lesser was having the time of his life.
When Lash returned from his fathers, he took form in the bedroom next to the one he kept Xhex in. As much as he wanted to see her, he stayed away. Every time he came back from Dhunhd, he was a waste of space for a good half hour and he wasnt about to be stupid and give her a chance to kill him.
Because she would. And wasnt that sweet?
Lying down on the bed and closing his eyes, his body was slow and cold, and as he breathed deep, he felt as though he was thawing out like a slab of beef. Not that it was freezing on the other side. In fact, his fathers digs were toasty and well-appointedassuming you were into the Liberace shit.
Daddy-o had almost no furniture, but enough candelabra to sink a ship. The oh-chillies seemed to have something to do with the leap back into this reality and every time he returned to this side, it was more of a struggle to rebound. The good news was that he didnt think he was going to have to go over there as much. Now that his bag of tricks had been fully explored and mastered, there was really no need, and truth was, the Omega wasnt exactly stimulating company.
It was a case of enough-about-me-what-do-you-think-about-me. And even if said demand for ego masturbation was being thrown out by an admittedly powerful, evil fucker who happened to be your pops, it got old fast.
Besides, his fathers love life was disturbing as shit.
Lash didnt even know what those fucking things in that bed were. Black beasts, yeah, but the sex of them was as indiscernible as their species, and the way they oiled around was creepy. Plus they were always looking for a fuck even if there was company present.
And his father never said no.
As a beep sounded out, Lash reached into his suit jacket for his phone. It was a text from Mr. D: On the way. Gots the guy.
Lash looked at the clock and shot upright, thinking that the time couldnt be right. Hed come back two hours agohow had he lost track so badly?
Going vertical threw his stomach in a roll and putting his hands up to rub his face took more effort than it should have. The deadweight of his body, coupled with the aches, made him remember back to a time when hed gotten colds or flus. Same feeling. Was it possible he was getting sick?
Made him wonder if anyone had come up with a product like Dead-quil or some shit.
Probably not.
Letting his arms fall into his lap, he glanced over to the bathroom. The shower seemed miles away and not really worth the effort.
It took him another ten minutes before he could throw off the lethargy, and when he got to his feet, he stretched hard to get his black blood flowing. The bathroom turned out to be not miles away but a matter of yards, and with each step he felt stronger. Heading over to start the hot water, he admired himself in the mirror and checked out his collection of bruises. Most of them from the night before were gone, but he knew he was going to get more
Lash frowned and lifted up his arm. The sore on the inside of his forearm was larger, not smaller.
When he prodded it with his finger, it didnt hurt, but the thing looked nasty as shit, a flat, open wound that was gray in the middle and bordered by a black line.
His first thought was that he needed to go see Havers. . except that was ridiculous and nothing but a remnant from his old life. Like he was going to show up at the clinic and be all, Hey, could you fit my ass in?
Besides, he didnt know where theyd moved the damn thing to. Which was the problem with a successful raid. Your target took your threat seriously and went deep underground.
Getting under the warm spray, he was careful to scrub the spot with some soap, figuring if it was some kind of infection that had to help; and then he thought about other things.
He had a big-ass night. The induction at eight. Meeting with Benloise at ten.
Back here for some more lovin.
When he got out, he dried himself and inspected the sore. The damn thing appeared to be pissed off at the attention hed given it, a thin black ooze welling up over its surface.
Oh, that stuff was going to be great to get out of his fucking silk shirts.
He slapped a Band-Aid the size of an index card on the thing and thought that maybe tonight he and his GF would play nice.
Hed tie her up for a change.
It took him no time at all to put on a sweet Zegna suit and head out. As he passed by the master bedrooms door, he paused and made a fist. Banging on the wood loud enough to wake the dead, he smiled.
Be back soon and Im bringing chains.
He waited for a response. When there was none, he reached for the knob and put his ear to the door. The sound of her even breathing was soft as a gentle current of air, but it was there. She lived. And she would be alive still when he returned.
With deliberate self-control, he released the knob. If he opened the door, hed lose another couple of hours and his father was not into waiting.
Down in the kitchen, he took a stab at some eats and came up with nothing. The coffee machine had been timed to start up two hours ago, so a quick lift of the pot showed something close to crankcase oil. And cracking the fridge, he didnt see anything that appealed even though he felt starved.
Lash ended up dematerializing from the kitchen empty-handed and with a bottomless gut. Not a great combo for his mood, but he wasnt going to miss the showif for no other reason than he wanted to see what had been done to him during his induction.
The farmhouse was out north and east of the brownstone, and the instant he took form on the lawn, he knew his father was inside: An odd shiver in his blood bubbled up every time he was around the Omega, like an echo in an enclosed space. . although he wasnt sure whether he was the sound and his father the cave, or if it was the other way around.
The front door was open, and as he mounted the porch steps and went into the shitty little hall, he thought about his induction.
When you became truly mine.
Lash wheeled around. The Omega was in the living room, his white robes covering his face and hands, his black energy seeping out onto the floor, a dark shadow formed by no illumination.
Are you excited, my son?
Yeah. Lash glanced over his shoulder at the dining room table. The bucket and the knives that had been used on him were right there. Ready and waiting.