Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(40)

“Sorry.” She smiled. “Guess they didn’t tell you.”

Yeah, he would have remembered that conversation.

“I’m cool with it,” she said. “Are you?”

Oh. My. God.

“John?” She cleared her throat. “Tell you what. Do you have something I can write on?”

Numbly, he shook his head. He’d left his pad in the house. Idiot.

“Give me your hand.” When he reached out, she got a pen from somewhere and bent over his palm. The nub ran across his skin smoothly. “That’s my e-mail address and my IM info. I’ll be online in about an hour. Messie me, okay? We’ll talk.”

He looked at what she’d written. Just stared at it.

She shrugged a little. “I mean, you don’t have to or anything. Just…you know. I thought we could get to know each other that way.” She paused, as if waiting for a response. “Um…whatever. No pressure. I mean—”

He grabbed her hand, whipped the pen out of it, and flattened her palm.

I want to talk to you, he wrote.

Then he looked straight into her eyes and did the most amazing, ballsy thing.

He smiled at her.





Chapter Fifteen


As dawn came and shutters went down over the windows, Bella drew on the black robe and bolted out of the bedroom she’d been given. With quick eyes, she checked up and down the hallway. No witnesses. Good. Closing the door quietly, she glided over the Persian runner, making no sound at all. When she got to the head of the grand staircase she paused, trying to remember which way to go.

The corridor with the statues, she thought, remembering another trip down that long stretch so many, many weeks ago.

She walked fast and then ran, clutching the lapels of the robe and holding the slit on the bottom closed over her thighs. She passed statues and doors, until she got to the end and stopped in front of the last pair. She didn’t bother to collect herself, because she was uncollectible. Loose, ungrounded, in danger of disintegration—there was no collecting anything. She knocked loudly.

Through the door came, “Fuck off. I’ve crashed.”

She turned the knob and pushed. Light from the hall barged in, slicing a pie wedge out of the darkness. As the glow hit Zsadist, he sat up on a pallet of blankets in the far corner. He was naked, his muscles flexing into ridges under his skin, his nipple rings flashing silver. His face, with that scar, was a billboard for the rankly pissed-off male.

“I said, f*ck o—Bella?” He covered himself with his hands. “Jesus Christ. What are you doing?”

Good question, she thought as her courage dimmed. “Can…can I stay here with you?”

He frowned. “What are you—No, you can’t.”

He grabbed something off the floor and held it in front of his hips as he stood up. With no apologies for her stare, she drank in the sight of him: the tattooed slave bands around his wrists and neck, the gauge in his left earlobe, his obsidian eyes, his skull-trimmed hair. His body was as starkly lean as she remembered, all striated muscles and hard-cut veins and evident bones. Raw power emanated from him like a scent.

“Bella, get out of here, okay? This is not the place for you.”

She ignored the command in his eyes and his tone, because although her bravery was gone, desperation gave her the strength she needed.

Now her voice no longer faltered. “When I was so out of it in the car, you were behind the wheel, weren’t you?” He didn’t respond, but she didn’t need him to. “Yes, you were. That was you. You spoke to me. You were the one who came for me, weren’t you?”

He flushed. “The Brotherhood came for you.”

“But you drove me away. And you brought me here first. To your room.” She looked at the luxurious bed. The covers were thrown back, the pillow dented from where her head had lain. “Let me stay.”

“Look, you need to be safe—”

“I am safe with you. You saved me. You won’t let that lesser get me again.”

“No one can touch you here. This place is wired like the goddamned Pentagon.”

“Please—”

“No,” he snapped. “Now get the hell out of here.”

She started to shake. “I can’t be alone. Please let me stay with you. I need to…” She needed him specifically, but didn’t think he’d respond well to that. “I need to be with someone.”

“Then Phury’s more what you’re looking for.”

“No, he’s not.” She wanted the male in front of her. For all his brutality, she trusted him instinctually.

Zsadist ran his hand over his head. A number of times. Then his chest expanded.

“Don’t make me go,” she whispered.

When he cursed, she exhaled in relief, figuring that was as close to a yes as she was going to get.

“I have to put some pants on,” he muttered.

Bella stepped inside and closed the door, lowering her eyes for only a moment. When she looked up again, he’d turned away and was pulling a pair of black nylon sweats up his thighs.

His back, with its streaks of scars, flexed as he bent over. Seeing the cruel pattern, she was struck with the need to know exactly what he’d been through. All of it. Each and every lash. She’d heard the rumors about him; she wanted his truth.