Blood Vow (Black Dagger Legacy #2)(95)

Her first impression of Bitty’s uncle was that he was just as nervous as they were. His foot was tapping and his arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes bounced back and forth between her and Rhage.

Her second thought was that he was big. Much bigger than she would have imagined, given Bitty’s size and Annalye’s relatively delicate build. In his clean blue jeans and red and blue flannel shirt, he took up almost all of the sofa he was on, and not because he was fat. He was covered in muscle, clearly a field worker of some kind.

His hair was dark, just like Bitty’s. His eyes were some flavor of pale brown. Skin was the tone of Rhage’s. Face was … yes, there were clear echoes of Bitty’s features there.

Marissa stood up from the chair next to the male. “I’m going to make introductions.”

Ruhn got to his feet, and yup, he was very tall. And he wiped his palms on his thighs repeatedly as names were traded.

He offered his hand only to Rhage—which was a measure of respect and showed an awareness of vampire etiquette. Given that she and Rhage were mated, it would have been entirely inappropriate for Ruhn to touch her without express invitation by either her or her hellren.

“Sire,” he said in a low, soft voice.

Rhage reached out, and as they shook, Ruhn bowed deeply.

Then he turned to her and did the same, just without the palm-to-palm contact.

Mary glanced at Rhage. His face was remote, but his eyes were not so much narrowed with aggression … as sad with unhappiness.

“Perhaps we should all sit down and get comfortable?” Marissa said, indicating various chairs and sofas. “Tea, anyone?”

The female was obviously falling back on her finely bred manners, and it was helpful, filling the silence as Mary nodded about the offer of Earl Grey because she needed something to do with her hands.

Vishous stayed standing in the far corner, a menacing presence that was a reminder that the rest of the house was empty, all the appointments with the King rescheduled just so they could have this neutral space. He alone was here on guard.

But you know, he was more than enough to feel safe—

Except abruptly Mary noticed a figure outside on the back terrace. Z, going by the skull trim. And … wait, was that—yes, that was Butch at another window on the other side.

Undoubtedly, other members of the Brotherhood were elsewhere, remaining unseen—and she drew strength from having family with her and Rhage.

“So we all know why we’re here.” Marissa leaned forward with an admirably steady hand, passing a full teacup to Mary. “Perhaps someone would like to say what’s on their mind.”

Everybody looked at her, including the uncle. Which gave her an idea that maybe Ruhn was not unfamiliar with what she did for a living.

Mary cleared her throat and decided to cut through the bullshit. “Bitty is our primary concern. Her health, well-being, and happiness is the only thing we care about—but of course, we respect your bloodline tie.”

Ruhn looked down at his hands. They were heavily callused, the forearms exposed by those rolled-up sleeves, veined and thick with muscle.

“I’d like to meet her.” His voice was soft, quiet … totally unaggressive. “My sister … it’s hard for me to believe she’s gone. And seeing Lizabitte would be …”

As he trailed off, Mary frowned. It was a surprise to feel compassion for the male.

“I feel like I let my sister down.” He shook his head. “Living with that is a curse … I mean, I tried to find her when she came up here. But I didn’t have many resources—I still don’t, and she disappeared with that male. I knew he was going to kill her. We all did.” He cleared his throat, and his tone deepened, grew stronger. “Lizabitte is the only part of my sister left—and doing right by that young is fulfilling the duty I failed at to Annalye.”

Mary swallowed hard as Ruhn met her straight in the eye, and concluded, “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for that young.”





THIRTY-SIX


Peyton didn’t stop talking. And as Elise sat at the foot of his bed and listened, the picture that emerged of her cousin’s alternate life was both overwhelming and not a surprise.

“Wait, so what is this club?” Elise asked.

“It’s downtown, it’s called The Keys. I’ve never been to it. The shit that goes on there is not my thing.”

“But Allishon was a member of it?”

“Yeah. She used to go there when she, you know.”

“She what? When did she go?”

Peyton’s baby blues gave her a don’t-be-daft stare, but when he saw that she honestly didn’t get what he was saying, he shook his head.

“She should have been more like you.”

Elise winced, thinking that, given where she was headed at the end of the evening, she doubted she was half the paragon of virtue Peyton was giving her credit for.

“Why did she go there?” she prompted.

“Look, Allishon was always on the hunt for something new.” Peyton reached for yet another Grey Goose bottle and poured some more into his tall glass. The ice cubes had melted long ago, but he hadn’t seemed to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. “She was always searching. And a lot of the time, she found it there.”

“So she was drinking and doing drugs.”