Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(46)

“Why do you have a human name?” This question came from the redhead in the seat behind him.

John wrote, Raised by them, and then turned the pad around.

“Huh. Well, I’m Blaylock. John…wow, weird.”

On impulse, John pulled up his sleeve and flashed the bracelet he’d made, the one with the characters he’d dreamed about on it.

Blaylock leaned over. Then his pale blue eyes shot up. “His real name’s Tehrror.”

Whispers. Lots of whispers.

John retracted his arm and eased back against the window again. He wished he’d kept his sleeve down. What the hell were they thinking now?

After a moment Blaylock pulled a polite one and introduced the others. They all had odd names. The blond’s was Lash. And how fricking appropriate was that?

“Tehrror…” Blaylock murmured. “That’s a very old name. That’s a real warrior’s name.”

John frowned. And even though it would be better to get himself off these boys’ high-def wide-screen, he wrote, Isn’t yours? And the rest of theirs?

Blaylock shook his head. “We have some warrior blood in us, which is why we were chosen to come train, but none of us has a name like that. What line are you descended from? God…are you bred from the Brotherhood?”

John frowned. It had never dawned on him that he could be related to the Brothers.

“Guess he’s too good to answer you,” Lash said.

John let that one pass. He knew he was tripping all kinds of social wires, setting off land mines right and left, what with his names and the raised-by-humans thing and his inability to talk. He had a feeling this school day was going to be one hell of an endurance test, so he might as well save his energy.

The trip lasted about fifteen minutes, with the last five or so involving a lot of stopping and going, which meant they were going through the gate system into the training compound.

When the bus halted and the partition retracted, John shouldered his duffel and his backpack and got out first. The underground parking facility was just as it had been last night: still no cars, just another shuttle bus like the one they’d come in. He stood off to the side and watched the others mill about, a flock of white jis. Their nattering voices reminded him of the sound of pigeon wings clapping.

The center’s doors swung open, and the group got good and transfixed.

But Phury could do that to a crowd. With his spectacular hair and his big body in black, he was enough to make anyone freeze.

“Hey, John,” he said, lifting his hand. “What’s doing?”

The guys turned and stared at him.

He smiled up at Phury. Then got busy trying to fade into the background.





Bella watched Zsadist pace around the bedroom. He reminded her of how she’d felt the night before when she’d sought him out: Caged. Miserable. Pushed too hard.

Why the hell was she forcing this?

As she opened her mouth to call the whole thing off, Zsadist stopped in front of the bathroom door.

“I need a minute,” he said. Then shut himself away.

At a loss, she went over and sat on the bed, expecting him to be right back out. When the shower came on and stayed on, she fell into a churning introspection.

She tried to picture herself going back to her family’s house and walking through those familiar rooms and sitting in chairs and opening doors and sleeping in her childhood bed. It felt all wrong, like she’d be a ghost in that place she knew so well.

And how would she deal with her mother and her brother? And the glymera?

In the aristocratic world she’d been disgraced before she’d been abducted. Now she would be shunned outright. Being handled by a lesser…trapped in the ground…The aristocracy didn’t handle that kind of ugliness well, and they would blame her. Hell, that was probably why her mother had been so reserved.

God, Bella thought. What was the rest of her life going to be like now?

As dread choked her, the only thing that held her together was the thought of staying in this room and sleeping for days with Zsadist right next to her. He was the cold that made her condense into herself again. And the heat that stopped her from shivering.

He was the killer who made her safe.

More time…more time with him first. Then maybe she could face the outside world.

She frowned, realizing he’d been in the shower for quite a while.

Her eyes shifted to the pallet in the far corner. How did he sleep there night after night? The floor would be so hard on his back, and there was no pillow for his head. No covers to pull up against the chill, either.

She focused on the skull beside the folded blankets. The black leather strap between the teeth proclaimed it as one he had loved. Obviously he had been mated, though she hadn’t heard that in the rumors about him. Had his shellan gone unto the Fade of natural causes or had she been taken from him? Was that why he was so angry?

Bella looked toward the bathroom. What was he doing in there?

She went over and knocked. When there was no answer, she opened the door slowly. A cold rush shot out and she jerked back.

Bracing herself, she leaned into the freezing air. “Zsadist?”

Through the glass door of the shower, she saw him sitting under an ice-cold spray of water. He was rocking back and forth, moaning, scrubbing his wrists with a washcloth.

“Zsadist!” She ran over and pushed the glass aside. Fumbling with the fixtures, she turned off the water. “What are you doing?”