Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood #7)(127)

But sucking at sex was the worst of them all.

As he’d lain in Xhex’s bed and considered the merits of self-immolation, he’d wondered why the fact that he was a mess when it came to f*cking seemed more important than any other deficiency.

Maybe it was because the newest chapter in his sex life had taken him into even rockier, more hostile territory. Maybe it was because the most recent disaster was so fresh.

Maybe it was because it was the last straw.

The way he saw it, he’d had sex twice, and both times he’d been taken, once violently and against his will and then however many hours ago with his total, full-bodied consent. The aftermath of the two experiences had sucked, and in the time he’d spent on Xhex’s bed, he’d tried to stop replaying the hurts and mostly failed. Natch.

As night had fallen, however, he’d grown a set as it dawned on him that he was letting other people screw with his head. In neither case had he done anything wrong. So why the hell was he thinking about ending his own life when he wasn’t the problem?

The answer was not to turn himself into the vampire equivalent of a s’more.

Shit, no. The answer was to never, ever be a victim again.

From now on, when it came to f*cking, he was the one who was going to do the taking.

John got out of the shower, dried off his powerful body, and stood in front of the mirror, measuring his muscle and his strength. As he cupped his balls up around his cock, his heavy sex felt good in his hand.

Nope. No more being a victim of other people. Time to grow the f*ck up.

John left the towel where it landed on the counter, dressed quickly, and felt taller somehow as he strapped his guns on and went for his phone.

He refused to be some weak-ass, crybaby motherf*cker anymore.

His text to Qhuinn and Blay was short and sweet: Mt me @ ZS. Am gttn drunk n expect u both 2 do same.

After he hit send, he went through the call log. A lot of people had reached out and touched his phone during the day, mostly Blay and Qhuinn, who evidently had dialed up every couple of hours. There was also some unknown private caller who’d hammered in three times.

The end result was, he had two voice mails, and with no particular curiosity, he accessed his account and listened, expecting the unknown to be a human with a wrong number.

It wasn’t.

Tohrment’s voice was strained and low: “Hey, John, it’s me, Tohr. Listen…I, ah, I don’t know if you’ll get this, but can you call me if you do? I’m worried about you. Worried about you, and I want to say that I’m sorry. I know I’ve been really f*cking out-of-it for a while now, but I’m coming back. I went…I went to the Tomb. That’s where I was. I had to go back and see…Shit, I don’t know…. I had to see where everything had started before I could shake myself back to reality. And then I, ah, I fed last night. For the first time since…” The voice cracked and there was a brisk breath. “Since Wellsie died. I didn’t think I could get through it, but I did. It’s going to take me a while to get—”

At that point the message cut off and the automated voice asked him if he wanted to save or delete. He hit pound to skip to the next one.

Tohr again: “Hey, sorry about that, I got cut off. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I f*cked your head up. It wasn’t fair to you. You’ve been mourning her, too, and I wasn’t there to help you, and that’s always going to weigh on me. I abandoned you when you needed me. And…I’m really sorry. I’m done with running, though. I’m not going anywhere. I guess…I guess I’m here and that’s where I am. Fuck, I’m making no sense. Look, please call me and let me know you’re safe. Bye.”

There was a beep and the automated voice cut in. “Save or delete?” she prompted.

As John took the phone from his ear and stared down at the thing, there was a moment of wavering as the child that remained in him cried out for its father.

A text from Qhuinn flashed across the screen, snapping him out of the immaturity.

John hit delete on Tohr’s second v-mail, and when asked if he wanted to review his first skipped message he said yes and deleted that one as well.

Qhuinn’s text was just: W’ll b thur.

Good deal, John thought as he picked up his leather jacket and left.





For someone who was jobless but had plenty of bills, Ehlena had no business being in a good mood.

As she dematerialized out to the Commodore, though, she was happy. Did she have problems? Yes, absolutely: If she didn’t find work fast, she and her father were in danger of losing the roof over their heads. But she’d applied for a housecleaning position with a family of vampires to tide her over, and she was considering dabbling in the human world. Medical transcription was an idea, the only problem being that she didn’t have a human identity worth the laminated card it was printed on, and that was going to cost money to get. Still, Lusie was paid through the end of the week, and her father was delighted that his “story,” as he called it, had pleased his daughter.

And then there was Rehv.

She didn’t know where things were headed with him, but there was possibility between them, and the feeling of hope and optimism that created buoyed her in all parts of her life, even the holy-shit jobless stuff.

Taking form on the terrace of the correct penthouse, she smiled at the flurries that swirled around in the wind and wondered why it was that whenever they fell, the cold didn’t feel as cold.