Cormia bit her lower lip as he reached to the side and picked up a bottle. There was a sucking noise as he squeezed it over his palm once twice He returned it to its resting place, then brought his hands to his hair to massage his locks. Foaming clumps ran down his forearms and dropped off his elbows onto the tile at his feet. The spicy scent wafting up reminded her of the outdoor air.
With her knees feeling unreliable, and her skin warm as the water he was in, Cormia sat down on the marble edge of the Jacuzzi.
The Primale took a bar of soap, worked it between his palms, and washed his arms and his shoulders. The scent told her it was the same kind she used and it mingled beautifully with whatever hed washed his hair with.
To her chagrin, she found the suds running down his torso and his hips and his heavy, smooth thighs were worthy of jealousy, and she wondered if he would have let her join him. There was no way of knowing for sure. Unlike some of her sisters, she couldnt read the thoughts of others.
But really, could she imagine standing before him with her hands on his skin under that warm spray?
Yes. Yes, she could.
The Primale went lower with the soap, down his chest and stomach. Then he cupped what was between his thighs, swiping his hands over and under his sex. As with the rest of his ministrations, he moved with disappointing economy.
It was a strange torture, a pleasurable pain to watch him in his private moment. She wanted this to last forever, but knew she would have to make do with her memories.
When he turned off the water and stepped out, she handed him a towel as quickly as she could to shield that heavy, dangling male flesh from her eyes.
As he dried off, his muscles flexed under his golden skin, tightening up hard, then stretching out lean. After he wrapped the towel around his hips, he reached for another and dried his hair off by rubbing the dense, wet waves back and forth. The flapping of the terry cloth seemed loud in the marble room.
Or maybe that was the pounding of her heart.
His hair was tangled when he was finished, but he didnt seem to notice as he looked over at her. I should go to bed now. I have four hours to fill, and maybe I can start going through them now.
She didnt know what that meant, but nodded. All right, but your hair
He touched it as if only just realizing now that it was attached to his head.
Would you like me to brush it? she asked.
An odd expression hit his face. If youd like to. Someone someone once told me Im too rough with it.
Bella, she thought. Bella had told him that.
She wasnt sure how she knew it, but she was dead certain-
Oh, who was she fooling? He had an ache in his voice. That was how she knew. The tone was the verbal equivalent to what was in his eyes when he sat across the dining room table from the female.
And although it seemed petty, Cormia wanted to brush his locks in order to replace Bella with herself. She wanted to imprint a memory of herself over the one he had of the other female.
The possessiveness was a problem, but she couldnt change the way she felt.
The Primale handed her a brush, and though she expected him to sit on the edge of the deep bath, he went out to the chaise by the bed and sat down. As he put his palms atop his knees, he bent his head and waited for her.
As she approached him, she thought of the hundreds of times she had brushed the hair of her sisters in the bath. In this moment, though, the thing in her hand with all the bristles, was a tool she wasnt sure how to use.
Tell me if I hurt you, she said.
You wont. He reached over and picked up a remote unit. When he hit a button, that music he always played, the opera, swelled in the room.
How lovely, she said, letting the sounds of the male tenor seep into her. What is the language?
Italian. Its Puccini. A love song. This is about a man, a poet, who meets a woman whose eyes steal the only wealth he has One look into her eyes and his dreams and visions and castles in the air are stolen by her and replaced by hope. Hes telling her who he is now and will ask who she is at the end of the solo.
What is the song called?
Che Gelida Manina.
You play it often, do you not?
It is my favorite among all solos. Zsadist
Zsadist what?
Nothing. He shook his head. Nothing
As the tenors voice soared, she fanned his locks out across his shoulders and started at the ends, taking the brush to the waves in careful, gentle sweeps. The rasping noise from the bristles joined the opera, and the Primale must have been comforted by both, because his rib cage expanded as he drew in a long, slow breath.
Even when all the tangles were gone, she kept on going, continuing to smooth the wake of the brush with her free hand. As his hair dried, the colors came out and its thickness returned, the waves re-forming after each pass, the mane she knew as his emerging.
She couldnt keep this up forever. And what a pity. I believe I am finished.
You havent done the front.
Actually, she mostly had. All right.
She walked around to stand before him, and there was no ignoring the way he opened his thighs wide, as if he wanted her to come between them.
Cormia stepped into the space he made for her with his legs. His eyes were closed, his golden lashes down on his high cheekbones, his lips slightly open. His head lifted to her with the same kind of invitation offered by his mouth and his knees.
She took it.
Sweeping the brush back through his hair, she followed the loose center part that had formed. With each pull, his neck muscles corded to keep his head in place.
Cormias fangs sprang out of the roof of her mouth.
The instant they did his eyes flashed open. Brilliant yellow met her stare.
Youre hungry, he said in a strangely guttural tone.
She let her hand with the brush fall to her side. Her voice gone, she simply nodded. In the Sanctuary, the Chosen didnt need to feed. Here on this side, however, her body demanded blood. Which was why shed been struggling with lethargy.
Why didnt you tell me before now? His head tilted to the side. Although if its because you dont want me, thats okay. We can find someone else for you to use
Why why wouldnt I want you?
He tapped the artificial leg. I am not whole.
True, she thought sadly. He was not whole, although it had nothing to do with him missing part of a limb.
I didnt want to impose, she said. That is the only why of it. You are comely to me with or without your lower leg.
Surprise flickered over his features, and then an odd pumping sound came out of him a purr. Its no imposition. If you want to take my vein, Ill give it you.
She stood motionless, held still by the look in his eyes and the way the features of his face changed as something came into his expression that shed never seen on anyones face before.
She wanted him, she thought. Badly.
Kneel, he said in a dark voice.
As Cormia sank down onto her knees, the brush fell out of her hand. Without a word, the Primale leaned into her, his huge arms going around her. He didnt draw her to him. He undid her hair, all of it, the chignon and then the braid.
He growled as he fanned her hair out around her shoulders, and she became aware that his body was trembling. Without warning, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into his throat.
Take from me, he demanded.
Cormia let out a hiss that sounded like a cobra, and before she knew what she was doing, she nailed her fangs into his jugular. As she struck, he barked out a curse and his body jumped.
Holy mother of Words His blood was a fire, first in her mouth then down in her gut, an all-powerful wave that filled her out from the inside, giving her a strength shed never known before.
Harder, he bit out. Suck me
She ran her arms under his and sank her nails into his back and took great pulls from his vein. She grew dizzy- no, wait, he was pushing her backward, taking her down onto the floor. She didnt care what he did to her or where they ended up, because his taste was all-consuming as she consumed him. All she knew was the fountain of his life at her lips and down her throat and in her belly, and that was all she needed to know.
Robes her robes were being pushed up to her hips. Thighs hers parting, this time hers parting by his hands
Yes.
Phurys brain was up on a shelf somewhere, way out of the reach of his body, way out of sight. He was all instinct with his females feeding, his cock on the verge of coming, his sole focus on getting inside of her before it did.
Everything about her, about him, was suddenly different. And urgent.
He needed himself in her in as many ways as possible, and not just the temporary kind of in that sex provided. He needed to leave himself behind, mark her up good, get his blood and his come in her, and then repeat the process again tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. He had to be all over her so that every fucking asshole on the planet knew that if they got near her they were going to tangle with him until they spit their teeth out and needed splints for their arms and legs.
Mine.
Phury yanked the robing out of the way of her sex and- Oh, yeah, there it was. He could feel the heat come up and-
Fuck, he groaned. She was wet, welling up, overflowing.
If there had been any way to keep her at his vein while he went down on her, he would have shifted around in a heartbeat. The best he could do was whip his hand up and shove it into his mouth and suck
Phury shuddered at the taste, licking and drawing at his fingers as his hips pushed forward and the head of his cock nudged at the entrance of her core.
Just as he pressed in and felt her flesh give way to his that goddamn, motherfucking Primale medallion went off on the bureau right next to them. Loud as a fire alarm.
Ignore it, ignore it, ignore-
Cormias mouth broke its seal on his throat, and her eyes, wide, fuzzy with bloodlust and sex, lifted to the sound of the rattling. What is that?
Nothing.
The thing shook even harder, as if it were protesting. Either that or celebrating the fact that it had ruined the moment.
Maybe it was in with the wizard.
Ya welcome, the wizard sang out.
Phury rolled off Cormia, covering her up as he did. With a nasty, vicious stream of curses, he pushed himself back until he was leaning against his bed and cradling his head in his hands.
Both of them panted while that slug of gold banged around the brush set.
The sound of the thing reminded him that there was no privacy between him and Cormia. The mantle of tradition and circumstance was all around them, and anything they did had huge repercussions that were greater than just feeding and sex between a male and a female.
Cormia got to her feet as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Thank you for the gift of your vein.
There was nothing he could say in response. His throat was too full of frustration and curses.
As the door shut behind her, he knew precisely why hed stopped, and it had nothing to do with the interruption. Had he wanted to, he could have kept going.
But thing was, if he slept with her, he had to sleep with them all.
He reached up to the bedside table, got a blunt, and lit it.
If he slept with Cormia, there was no going back. He had to create forty Bellas impregnate forty Chosen and leave them at the mercy of the birthing bed.
He had to be a lover to all of them and a father to all their children and a leader for all their traditions, when he felt as though he could barely get through the days and nights with only himself to worry about.
Phury stared at the glowing tip of the hand-rolled. It was a shock to realize that he would have taken Cormia if it had just been about them. He wanted her that much.
He frowned. Jesus hed wanted her all along, hadnt he.
But it was more than that. Wasnt it.
He thought of her brushing out his hair, and realized with a shock that she had actually managed to calm him in those moments-and not just through the strokes of the brush, either. Her very presence eased him, from her jasmine scent, to the way she moved so fluidly, to the soft sound of her voice.
No one, not even Bella, could ease him down. Make the cage of his ribs loosen. Allow him to take a deep breath.
Cormia could.
Cormia did.
Which meant that at this point he craved her on pretty much every godforsaken level he had.
And doesnt that make her a lucky girl, the wizard drawled. Hey, why dont you tell her that you want to turn her into your new drug of choice. Shell be thrilled to know that she can be your next addiction, used to try and get you out of your fucked-up head.
Shell be thrilled, mate, because thats every lasss dream- and besides, we all know how youre the king of healthy relationships. A real golden-boy winner in that department.
Phury let his head fall back, inhaled hard, and held the smoke until his lungs burned like a brush fire.
Chapter Twelve
That evening, as night fell across Caldwell and did absolutely nothing to improve the humidity, Mr. D stood in the hot upstairs bathroom of the farmhouse and peeled off a bandage hed applied hours and hours earlier to his gut. The gauze was stained black. The patch of skin underneath was much improved.
At least one thing was workin for him, although it was only the one. Less than twenty-four hours as the Fore-lesser and he felt like someone had pissed in his trucks gas tank, fed his dog rotten meat, and lit his barn on fire.
He should have stayed just a soldier.
Although it wasnt as if hed had the choice.
He tossed the dirty bandage into the drywall bucket the dead people evidently used as a wastepaper basket and decided not to replace it. The internal damage had been real big, going by how bad it had hurt and how far that black dagger had gone in. But for lessers, the intestinal tract was made up of useless meat. That his guts were a sure-fire tangled mess didnt matter none, long as the bleeding was stemmed.
Boy, last night hed barely got out of that alley alive. If the Brother with the sissy locks hadnt been reined in, Mr. D was darned certain hed have been deboned like a catfish.
A knocking from downstairs brought his head up. Ten oclock sharp.
At least they were on time.
He strapped on his heat, picked up his Stetson, and hit the stairs. Outside, there were three trucks and a beater in the dirt drive and two squadrons of lessers on the front stoop. As he let the boys in, the fuckers topped him by at least a foot, and he could tell they werent impressed none too good about his promotion.
In the living room, he told them.
As the eight of them filed past, he flipped free the holster strap on his gun, palmed the Magnum.357, and leveled it at the last one in the house.
He pulled the trigger once. Twice. Three times.
The sound was like thunder; none of that subtle popping like you got with nines. The slugs went into the small of the lessers back, obliterating his spine and blowing a hole through the front of his torso. The guy hit the ratty rug with a thump, a little cloud of dust wafting up.
As Mr. D reholstered his weapon, he wondered when the place had last been vacuumed. Probably back when it had been built.
Im fraid I have to get m spurs on, he said as he stepped around the writhing slayer.
While oily black blood oozed out on the brown rug, Mr. D put his foot on the slayers head and pulled out the wallpaper section the Omega had burned the targets image onto.
I want to make sure I got yalls attention last night, he said as he held the thing up. You find this male. Or Ima pick you off one by one and start with a new crew.
The slayers stared at him in collective silence, like they had one brain and it was spinning to come to terms with a new world order.
"Yall stop looking at me and look at this right chere, now. He jogged the picture. Bring him to me. Alive. Or I swear to my Lord and savior that I will find me some new hound dogs and feed strips of you to em. We all on the same page here?
One by one, they nodded as the downed man moaned.
Good. Mr. D pointed the Magnums muzzle at the lesser s head and blew that fucker to smithereens. Now lets get movin.
About fifteen miles to the east, in the underground training centers locker room, John Matthew fell in love. Which was not something he expected to happen in that particular place.
Kicks from Ed Hardy, Qhuinn said, as he held out a pair of sneakers. For you.
John reached out and took them. Okay, they were hot. Black. White soled. Skull on each one with Hardys siggy in rainbow colors.
Whoa, one of the other trainees said on his way out of the locker room. Whered you get those?
Qhuinn jogged his eyebrows at the guy. Spank, huh? They were Qhuinns, John thought. Probably something he was really dying to wear and had saved up for.
Try em on, John.
Theyre awesome, but really, I cant.
As the last of their classmates filed out, the door eased shut and Qhuinns bravado eased off. He grabbed the sneakers, put them at Johns feet, and looked up.
Im sorry for busting on you last night. You know, at A and F, with that girl I was a prick.
Its cool.
No, it isnt. I was in a bad mood and I took it out on you, and that is not cool.
See, this was the thing with Qhuinn. He could be out there and he could let his edge get away from him, but he always came back and made you feel like you were the single most important person in the world to him and that he was truly sorry for hurting your feelings.
Youre a freak. But I really cant accept these-
Were you raised in a barn? Dont be ruuuuuuuuuuuuude, my boy. Theyre a gift.
Blay shook his head. Take them, John. Youre just going to lose this argument, and it will save us from the theatrics.
Theatrics? Qhuinn leaped up and assumed a Roman oratory pose. Whither thou knowest thy ass from thy elbow, young scribe?
Blay blushed. Come on-
Qhuinn threw himself at Blay, grasping onto the guys shoulders and hanging his full weight off him. Hold me. Your insult has left me breathless. Im agasp.
Blay grunted and scrambled to keep Qhuinn up off the floor. Thats agape.
Agasp sounds better.
Blay was trying not to smile, trying not to be delighted, but his eyes were sparkling like sapphires and his cheeks were getting red.
With a silent laugh, John sat on one of the locker room benches, shook out his pair of white socks, and pulled them on under his new old jeans.
You sure, Qhuinn? Cuz I have a feeling theyre going to fit and you might change your mind.
Qhuinn abruptly lifted himself off Blay and straightened his clothes with a sharp tug. And now you offend my honor. Facing off at John, he flipped into a fencing stance.
Touché.
Blay laughed. Thats en garde, you damn fool.
Qhuinn shot a look over his shoulder. Ça va, Brutus?
Et tu!
That would be tutu, I believe, and you can keep the cross-dressing to yourself, ya perv. Qhuinn flashed a brilliant smile, all twelve kinds of proud for being such an ass. Now, put the fuckers on, John, and lets be done with this. Before we have to put Blay in an iron lung.
Try sanitarium!
No, thanks, I had a big lunch.
The sneakers fit perfectly and somehow made John feel taller, even though he had yet to stand up in them.
Qhuinn nodded and made like he was sizing up a master-piece. They look tight. You know, maybe we should rough your threads up a little. Get you wearing some chains. Hey, pierce your shit like mine and add more black-
You know why Qhuinn likes black?
They all whipped their heads around and looked to the shower. Lash was coming out of it, white towel held in front of his privates, water dripping off his heavy shoulders.
Its because Qhuinns color-blind, isnt that right, cuz. Lash sauntered over to his locker and flipped the thing open so it slapped against its neighbor. He only knows hes got mismatched eyes because people tell him so.
John stood up, noting absently that the sneaks had awesome traction. Which, considering the way Qhuinn was glaring at Lashs bare ass, might be a useful thing in about a second and a half.
Yeah, Qhuinns special, arent you. Lash pulled on a pair of camo pants and a muscle shirt, then made a show of sliding a gold signet ring onto his left forefinger. Some people dont fit in and never will. Its sad as fuck that they keep trying to.
Blay whispered, Lets go, Qhuinn.
Qhuinn gritted his teeth. You need to shut your hole, Lash. For real.
John stepped into his buddys grille and signed, Lets just go to Blays and chill, okay?
Hey, John, a question just occurred to me. When you were raped in the stairwell by that human guy, did you scream with your hands? Or just breathe really hard?
John went devastation-still. As did his two friends.
No one moved. No one breathed.
The locker room became so quiet that the dripping from the communal shower sounded like a snare drum.
Lash shut his locker door with a smile and looked at the two others. I read his medical file. Its all in there. He was sent to Haverss for therapy because he was exhibiting symptoms of-Lash did air quotations- post-traumatic stress. So come on, John, when the guy fucked you, did you try to scream? Did you, John?
Surely. This. Was. A. Nightmare, John thought as his balls shriveled up.
Lash laughed and shoved his feet into combat boots. Look at you. All three of you struck stupid. Its the cock-sucking Retardateers.
Qhuinns voice took a tone it never had before. There was no bravado, no heated anger. It was stone-cold nasty. You better pray this doesnt get out. To anyone.
Or what? Come on, Qhuinn, Im a firstborn son. My father is your fathers eldest brother. Do you really think you can touch me? Hmm nah, not so much, my boy. Not so much.
Not one word, Lash.
Whatever. If youll excuse me, Im going to get ghost. The bunch of you are sucking the will to live right out of me. Lash shut his locker and walked over to the door. Naturally, he paused and looked over his shoulder, smoothing his blond hair. Bet you didnt scream, John. Bet you asked for more. Bet you begged the-
John dematerialized.
For the first time in his life, he moved from one spot to another right through the air. Taking form in front of Lash and planting his body against the door to block the guys exit, he looked back at his friends and bared his fangs. Lash was his and his alone.
When they both nodded, the beat-down began.
Lash was ready for the first punch, all braced with his hands up and his weight on his thighs. So instead of throwing a fist, John ducked, lunged forward, and bear-hugged the bastards waist, crashing him back into a wall of lockers.
Lash wasnt fazed in the slightest and recovered with a knee crack that nearly broke Johns face. Recoiling from the smash, John stumbled back, then reengaged, grabbing Lashs throat, jamming his thumbs up under the guys chin, and locking in tight. He head-butted Lashs nose, busting that fucker open like a geyser, but Lash didnt give a shit. He smiled through the blood that ran down into his mouth and threw a low rightie gut punch that kicked Johns liver up into his lungs.
Fists were traded back and forth, back and forth, as the two of them plowed into banks of lockers and benches and trash bins. At some point, a couple of trainees tried to come in, but Blay and Quinn forced them out and locked the door.
John grabbed onto Lashs hair, reared back, and bit him on top of the shoulder. As he pulled away, flesh tore free, and the two of them spun around while Lash welded his palms together and swung a two-hander square into Johns temple. The impact sent him tap-dancing into the shower, but he caught himself before he fell. Unfortunately, his re flexes werent fast enough to keep him from getting cracked in the jaw.
It was like getting hit with a baseball bat, and he realized Lash had somehow slipped on a pair of old-fashioned brass knuckles-probably because he needed the advantage given that John was bigger. Another hit landed somewhere on Johns face, and suddenly it was the Fourth of July in his head, fireworks everywhere. Before he could blink clear his vision, he got slammed face-first into the tiled wall in the shower and held in place.
Lash reached around to the front of Johns pants.
How about a replay, John-boy? the guy rasped. Or do you only like humans in your ass?
The feel of a big body pressing into his from behind froze John solid.
It should have energized him. It should have sent him wild. Instead, he became the frail boy hed been, helpless and terrified and at the mercy of someone much, much bigger. He was instantly where hed been in that decrepit stairwell, pushed against the wall, trapped, overpowered.
Tears sprang to his eyes. No, not this not this again- From out of nowhere, a war cry came, and the weight was lifted from him.
John fell to his knees and threw up on the wet tile floor.
When his retching receded, he let himself fall onto his side and twisted into a fetal position, shaking like the nancy he was-
Lash was down on the tile right next to him and his throat was cut wide-open.
The guy was trying to breathe, trying to hold his blood in, and it wasnt working.
John looked up in horror.
Qhuinn stood above them both, panting. In his right hand was a bloody hunting knife.
Oh, Jesus Blay said. What the fuck did you do, Qhuinn?
This was bad. This was life-altering bad. For all of them. What had started as a brawl had likely ended up as a murder.
John opened his mouth to holler for help. Naturally, nothing came out.
Ill get someone, Blay said, and ran out.
John sat up, whipped off his shirt, and leaned over Lash. Taking the guys hands away, he pressed what had been on his back to the open wound and prayed the blood would stop. Lash met his eyes, then brought his own hands up as if to help.
Lie still, John mouthed. Just lie still. I can hear people coming.
Lash coughed and blood came out of his mouth, spattering over his lower lip and running down his chin. Shit, the red stuff was everywhere.
But they had done this before, John told himself. The two of them had fought right here in this shower, and the drain had run red then, too, and it had been okay.
Not this time, a voice inside of him warned. Not this time
A roar of panic flared, and he started to pray for Lash to live. Then he prayed for time to go backward. Then he wished for this to be a dream
Someone was standing over him and saying his name.
John? He looked up. It was Doc Jane, the Brotherhood s private physician, and Vishouss shellan. Her translucent, ghostly face was calm, her voice even and soothing. As she knelt down, she became as solid as he was. John, I need you to step back so I can get a look at him, okay? I want you to let go and step back. Youve done a good job, but I need to take care of him now.
He nodded. But even still, she had to touch his hands to get him to release his hold on his shirt.
Someone picked him up off his knees. Blay. Yeah, it was Blay. He could tell by the guys aftershave. Jump by Joop!
There were a lot of other people in the locker room. Rhage was just inside the shower, and next to him was V. Butch was there.
Qhuinn where was Qhuinn?
John looked around and found him across the way. The bloody knife was gone from his hand, and Zsadist was next to the guy, looming.
Qhuinn was paler than the white tile, his mismatched eyes unblinking as he stared at Lash.
Youre under house arrest at your parents, Zsadist said to Qhuinn. If he dies, youre up for murder.
Rhage went over to Qhuinn, as if thinking that Zs hard tone wasnt helping the sitch. Come on, son, lets get your stuff from your locker.
Rhage was the one who led Qhuinn out of the locker room, and Blay followed them.