Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(117)

And the resonant quiet told her there was no one in any of the

classrooms, gym, or clinic.

Sliding down the wall, she let her ass bottom out on the floor and

hung her arms off her knees. Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes.

God, she was exhausted. . . .

"John's still in there?"

Xhex snapped awake, her gun pointed right up at Blaylock's chest. As

the guy leaped back, she immediately flipped on the safety and lowered the muzzle.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

"Ah, yeah." The guy motioned his white towel toward the locker room. "Is John still in there? It's been over an hour."

She flipped her wrist up and looked at the watch she'd snagged.

301

J. R.Ward

"Christ."

Xhex got to her feet and cracked the door. The sound of the shower

running wasn't much of a relief. "Is there any other way out?"

"Just through the weight room--which opens only into this hall."

"Okay, I'm going to go talk to him," she said, praying it was the right thing to do.

"Good. I'll finish my workout. Call me if you need me."

She pushed through the door, and inside, the place was standard-issue, all banks of beige metal lockers separated by wooden benches. Following the sound of falling water to the right, she passed by a bay of urinals, stalls, and sinks that seemed lonely without a bunch of sweaty, naked, towel-snapping males putting them to use.

She found John in an open area with dozens of showerheads and tile

on every square inch of the floors, walls, and ceiling. He was in his T-shirt and running shorts and was sitting against the wall, his arms hanging off his knees, his head down, the water rushing over his huge shoulders and torso.

Her first thought was that she had been outside in exactly the same

position.

Her second was that she was surprised he could stand being so still.

His emotional grid was not the only thing lit up; that shadow behind it was likewise afire with anguish. It was as if the two parts of him were both in a kind of mourning no doubt because he'd suffered or been witness to too many cruel losses in this life . . . and perhaps another. And where all that put him emotionally terrified her. The dense black void created in him was so powerful, it warped the superstructure of his psyche . . . taking him where she had been in that f*cking OR.

Taking him to the pinpoint of madness.

Stepping over the tiled lip in the floor, her skin goose bumped at the chill in the air that came from his feelings . . . and the reality that she'd done it again. This was Murhder, only worse.

Jesus Christ, she was a f*cking black widow when it came to males of

worth.

"John?"

He didn't look up, although she wasn't sure whether he was even

aware she was in front of him. He was back in the past, sucked in and held in the vise of memory. . . .

Frowning, she found her eyes following the path of the water that

rivered its way out from under him and traveled across the tilted tile plane . .

. to the drain.

The drain.

302

J. R.Ward

Something with that drain. Something to do with . . . Lash?

Within the embrace of the solitude and against the backdrop of the

quiet sound of the water's spray, she unleashed her bad side for a good purpose: In a great rush, her symphath instincts dove into John, penetrating through his physical territory and going deep into his mind and his recollections.

As he lifted his head and looked up at her in shock, everything went

red and two-dimensional, the tile becoming a blush pink, John's dark, damp hair changing to the color of blood, the water twinkling like rose

champagne.

The images she got were drawn with a quill of terror and shame: a

dark stairway in an apartment building not unlike the one he'd taken her to; him a small pretrans being forced by a fetid human male . . .

Oh. God.

No.

Xhex's knees gave out and she wobbled--then just let herself go to the ground, landing on the slick tile so hard her bones rattled and her teeth clapped together.

No . . . not John, she thought. Not when he was defenseless and

innocent and so very alone. Not when he was lost in the human world,

scrounging to survive.

Not him. Not like that.

With her symphath side out and her eyes undoubtedly glowing red, they sat there staring at each other. He knew she'd read him and he hated her knowledge with such a fury she wisely kept any sorrow or commiseration to herself. He didn't appear to resent that she'd invaded him, though. It was more like he wished like f*ck he didn't have that to share with anybody.

"What does Lash have to do with it," she said roughly. "Because he's all over your mind."

John's eyes shifted to the drain in the center and she got the

impression he was seeing blood pooling around the stainless-steel cap.

Lash's.

Xhex narrowed her eyes, the backstory becoming pretty damned

guess-able: Lash had found out about John's secret. Somehow. And she

didn't need her symphath side to tell her what the f*cker would have done with information like that.

A baseball announcer would seek less of an audience.