Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood #7)(42)

“Probably because Havers has been treating me forever.”

Ehlena laughed awkwardly. “Guess that must be why.”

Shit, what the hell did he tell her.

The symphath in him said, Whatever, just lie to her. Trouble was, from out of nowhere there was another competing voice in his brain, one that was unfamiliar and faint, but utterly compelling. Because he had no idea what it was, however, he led with his routine.

“I have Parkinson’s. Or the vampire equivalent of it, as it were.”

“Oh…I’m sorry. That’s the cane you use, then.”

“My balance is bad.”

“The dopamine’s doing you well, though. You have almost no tremors.”

That quiet voice in his head morphed into an odd ache in the center of his chest, and for a moment he dropped pretense and actually spoke the truth. “I have no idea what I would do without that drug.”

“My father’s medications have been a miracle.”

“Are you his sole caretaker?” When she mm-hmed, he asked, “Where is the rest of your family?”

“It’s just him and me.”

“So you’re carrying a hell of a burden.”

“Well, I love him. And if the roles were reversed, he would do the same. It’s what parents and children do for each other.”

“Not always. Clearly you come from good people.” Before he could stop himself, he continued, “But that’s why you’re lonely, isn’t it. You get guilty if you leave him even for an hour, except if you stay home you can’t ignore the fact that your life is passing you by. You’re trapped and screaming, but you wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I have to go.”

Rehv squeezed his eyes shut, that ache in his chest spreading through his whole body like wildfire across dry grass. He willed a light on as the darkness became too symbolic of his own existence.

“It’s just…I know what it’s like, Ehlena. Not for the same reasons…but I get that whole separated thing. You know, the idea that you’re watching everybody else go through life…. Oh, f*ck, whatever. I hope you sleep well—”

“That is how I feel a lot of the time.” Her voice was gentle now, and he was glad she got what he’d been trying to say, even though he’d been as eloquent as an alley cat.

Now he was the one who grew awkward. He wasn’t used to talking like this…or feeling as he did. “Listen, I’m going to let you get some rest. I’m glad you called.”

“You know…so am I.”

“And, Ehlena?”

“Yes?”

“I think you’re right. It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with anyone right now.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Good day.”

There was a pause. “Good…day. Wait—”

“What?”

“Your arm. What are you going to do about your arm?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. But thank you for the concern. It means a lot.”

Rehv hung up first and put the phone down on the mink duvet. Closing his eyes, he left the light on. And didn’t sleep at all.





FOURTEEN




Back at the Brotherhood compound, Wrath gave up the idea that he was going to feel better about the situation with Beth anytime soon. Hell, he could spend the next month stewing on his spindly chair, but that would only get him a numb ass.

And meanwhile, the rolling stones out in the hall were getting mossy and cranky.

He willed the double doors wide and as a unit his brothers came to attention. As he looked across the pale blue expanse of the study to their big, hard bodies out by the balcony, he knew them not by face or clothing or expression, but by the echo of each one in his blood.

The ceremonies in the Tomb that had bound them all together resonated no matter how long ago they had been done.

“Don’t just stand there,” he said as the Brotherhood stared back at him. “I didn’t open those f*ckers to turn myself into a zoo exhibit.”

The brothers came in on their heavy boots—except for Rhage, who was in flip-flops, his standard house footwear no matter the season. Each of the warriors took up his usual station in the room, with Z going over to stand by the fireplace and V and Butch parking it on a recently reinforced pencil-legged sofa. Rhage came over to the desk in a series of flip-flip-flips and hit speaker on the phone, letting his fingers do the walking to get Phury on the horn.

No one said anything about all the papers on the floor. No one tried to pick them up. It was as if the mess weren’t there, and that was how Wrath preferred it.

As he shut the doors with his mind, he thought of Tohr. The brother was in the house, just down the hall of statues by only a few doors, but he was on a different continent. Inviting him wasn’t an option—more like a cruelty, given where his head was at.

“Hello?” came Phury’s voice out of the phone.

“We’re all here,” Rhage said before unwrapping a Tootsie Pop and flip-flip-flipping it over to an ugly-ass green armchair.

The monstrosity was Tohr’s, moved up from the office for John Matthew to sleep in back after Wellsie had been murdered and Tohrment had disappeared. Rhage tended to use the thing because at his weight, it was really the safest option for his ass, steel-bolted sofas included.