Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(49)

Z headed for the closet, pulled on a shirt, and armed up. As he grabbed for his chest holster, he considered asking her for a description of the slayer who’d taken her. Except he didn’t want to traumatize her…No, he would get Tohr to ask, because the brother would handle that kind of thing well. When she was returned to her family tonight, he would have Tohr talk to her then.

“I’m heading out,” Z said as he buckled the leather dagger holder across his ribs. “You want me to have Fritz bring you food before you go?”

When there was no answer, he looked around the doorjamb. She was on her side, watching him.

Another wave of heavy-handed instinct pounded through him.

He wanted to see her eat. After the sex, after he came inside of her, he wanted to have her eat food he’d brought her, and he wanted her to take the stuff from his hand. Hell, he wanted to go out and kill something for her, bring the meat back, cook it himself, and feed her until she was full. Then he wanted to lie beside her with a dagger in his hand, protecting her as she slept.

He ducked back into the closet. Man, he was going crazy. Straight-up loco.

“I’ll have him bring you something,” he said.

He checked the blades on his two black daggers, testing them on the inside of his forearm, slicing into his skin. As the pain tingled into his brain, he stared at the puncture marks Bella had left on his wrist.

Shaking himself back into focus, he put his gun holster around his hips and ran through his twin SIG Sauers. Both nine-millimeters had full bullet loads, and there were another two clips of hollow tips on the belt. He slipped a throwing knife into a buckle at the small of his back and made sure he had some hira shuriken with him. Shitkickers were next. Light windbreaker to cover the portable arsenal was last.

When he came out, Bella was still looking up at him from the bed. Her eyes were so blue. Blue as sapphires. Blue as night. Blue as—

“Zsadist?”

He fought the urge to smack himself. “Yeah?”

“Am I ugly to you?” As he recoiled, she put her hands over her face. “Never mind.”

While she hid from him, he thought of the very first moment he’d seen her, back when she’d surprised him in the gym so many weeks ago. She’d astounded him then, struck him dead-stupid in his boots, and she still had that effect on his brain. It was like he had an off switch that only she had the remote to.

He cleared his throat. “You are as you have always been to me.”

He turned away, only to hear a sob. Then another. And another.

He looked over his shoulder. “Bella…holy hell…”

“I’m sorry,” she said into her palms. “I’m s-sorry. Just go. I’m f-fine…. I’m sorry, I’m fine.”

As he went over and sat on the edge of the bed, he wished he had the gift of words. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’ve invaded your room, your b-bed. Forced you to sleep next me. M-made you give me your vein. I’m so…sorry.” She took a deep breath and collected herself, but even still her despair lingered, carrying the earthy scent of raindrops on a hot sidewalk. “I know I should leave here, I know you don’t want me here, but I just need…I can’t go to my farmhouse. The lesser took me from there, so I can’t stand the idea of going back. And I don’t want to be with my family. They won’t understand what’s going on for me right now, and I don’t have the energy to explain. I just need some time, I need some way to get what is in my head out of it, but I can’t be alone. Even though I don’t want to see anyone except…”

As she petered out, he said, “You stay here for as long as you want.”

She started sobbing again. Damn it. That was the wrong thing to say.

“Bella…I…” What was he supposed to do?

Reach out to her, *. Take her hand, you piece of shit.

He couldn’t do it. “You want me to move out? Give you some space?”

More crying, somewhere in the middle of which she mumbled, “I need you.”

God, if he’d heard that right, he pitied her.

“Bella, stop crying. Stop crying and look at me.” Eventually she took a deep breath and wiped her face. When he was sure he had her attention, he said, “You don’t worry about anything. You’re staying here as long as you want to. Are we clear?”

She just stared at him.

“Nod for me, so I know you heard that.” When she did, he stood up. “And I’m the last thing you need. So you just drop that bullshit right now.”

“But I—”

He headed for the door. “I’ll be back before dawn. Fritz knows how to find me—er, all of us.”

After leaving her, Z strode down the corridor of statues, hung a louie, and shot past Wrath’s study and the grand staircase. Three doors down he knocked. No answer. He knocked again.

He headed downstairs and found what he was looking for in the kitchen.

Mary, Rhage’s female, was peeling potatoes. A lot of potatoes. Like, an army load of them. Her gray eyes lifted and her paring knife stilled on an Idaho golden. She glanced around, as if figuring he must be looking for someone else. Or maybe she just hoped she wasn’t alone with him.

“Could you put this off for a while?” Z said, nodding at the pile.