Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(187)

John just shrugged again and glanced at the door he'd brought her in

through. Listen, do you want me to get Doc Jane or Ehlena? Do you need food? Help to the loo?

Annnnnnnnnnnnd there it was again.

Xhex started laughing . . . and once she lit off, she couldn't seem to stop, even as her side began to holler and red tears sprang to her eyes. She knew John was looking down at her like she'd lost her mind and she couldn't blame him. She too heard the high note of hysteria coming out of her mouth . . . and what do you know, not long thereafter, she wasn't laughing; she was weeping.

Covering her face with her hands, she just sobbed until she couldn't

breathe, the emotional explosion so great that there was no sucking it up or trying to keep it in. She just fell apart and for once didn't fight the unraveling.

When she finally eased into the station at Get-a-grip-ville, she was

entirely unsurprised to find a box of Kleenex right in front of her . . .

courtesy of John's hand.

She snapped a tissue free. And then promptly went back for seconds

and thirds: After that show, cleanup was going to take a lot more than one.

Hell, on that theory, maybe she should just use the sheets on the bed.

"John . . ." She sniffled as she mopped her eyes, and that, coupled with all the little hearts she was wearing, pretty much sealed the deal on her nancy status. "I have to say something to you. It's been a long time in coming . . . so long. Too long."

He grew so still he didn't even blink.

"God, this is hard." More with the frickin' sniffles. "You wouldn't think three little words would be so hard to say."

John's exhale was loud--like someone had punched him in the solar

plexus. Funny, she felt the same way. But sometimes, in spite of the waves of nausea and a crushing sense of suffocation, you had to speak what was in your heart.

"John . . ." She cleared her throat. "I . . ."

What, he mouthed. Just tell me. Please . . . just say it.

She straightened her shoulders. "John Matthew . . . I'm such an ass-hat."

As he blinked and looked like his mouth was about to unhinge, she

sighed. "Guess that's four words, huh."

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J. R.Ward

Well, yes . . . that was four words.

God, for a second there . . . John forced his head to get back to

reality--because only in a fantasy would she ever I-love-you him.

You're not an *, he signed. Hat, I mean.

She sniffled some more and the sound was just too f*cking adorable.

Shit, the sight of her was too adorable. Lying back against the thin pillows, with crumpled tissues all around her, and her face flushed, she seemed so fragile and lovely, almost soft. And he wanted to take her into his arms, but he knew she liked her space.

Always had.

"I so am one." She snatched out another tissue, but instead of using it, she folded the thing into precise squares, halving it and then quartering it, then working some triangles until it was nothing but a tight wedge between her fingers.

"Can I ask you something?"

Anything.

"Can you forgive me?"

John recoiled. For what?

"For being a hardheaded, narcissistic, single-minded, emotionally repressed nightmare? And don't tell me that I'm not." She sniffed again. "I'm a symphath. I'm good at reading people. Can you ever forgive me?"

There's nothing to forgive.

"You're so wrong."

Then color me used to it. Have you seen the fools I live with?

She laughed and he loved the sound. "Why have you hung in with me through everything--wait, maybe I know the answer to that one. You can't choose who you bond with, can you."

Her sad voice trailed off.

As Xhex's eyes stayed locked on that Kleenex in her hand, she started to unfold what she had done to it, opening up the shapes she'd made from its corners and flat stretches.

He brought up his hands, getting ready to sign--

"I love you." Her gunmetal gray stare lifted to his. "I love you and I'm sorry and thank you." She laughed in a short, harsh burst. "Check me out, being all ladylike."

John's heart thumped so loudly in his ribs, he nearly glanced out in the hallway to see whether a marching band was going by.

Xhex's head eased back onto the pillows. "You've always done the right thing by me. I've just been too wrapped up in my own drama to be able 475

J. R.Ward

to accept what's been in front of me the whole time. That or too much of a wimp to do anything about it."

John was having a hard time believing what he was hearing. When

you wanted something or someone as badly as he did her, you were liable to translate things wrong--even if they were in your native tongue.

What about your end game? he signed.

She took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to change my plans."

How? Oh, God, he thought, please say--

"I'd like you and me to be my end game." She cleared her throat. "It's easier to check out. Just do yourself and be done with the whole living-breathing thing. But I'm a fighter, John. Always have been. And if you'll have me . . . I'd like to fight with you." She extended her hand to him, palm up. "So what do you say. How'd you like to sign on for a symphath?"