Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(55)

For Layla's sake, Payne wished she herself was wrong; what a

disappointment it would be to pine for something that was far, far less than expectation bore it to be.

146





J. R.Ward





NINETEEN


"A female . . ." The Omega's soft, echoing voice carried farther than its volume would have suggested, the two words suffusing every corner of the smooth stone room that formed his private chamber.

Lash did his best to appear unconcerned as he lounged against one of

the black walls. "I need her to service me for blood."

"Do you."

"It's biology."

In his white robing, the Omega cut a stunning figure as he circulated around the space. With his hood up in place, his arms crossed, and his hands tucked into his billowing sleeves, he resembled a bishop in the game of chess.

Except, of course, he was the king down here.

The evil's receiving area was about the size of a ballroom and decked out like one, with plenty of black chandeliers and stanchions that supported legions of black candles. It was far from stark, however. For one thing, those wicks were spouting red flames. And to top it off, the walls and floor and ceiling were made of the most extraordinary marble Lash had ever seen.

From one angle it was black, from another it was metallic bloodred, and given that the source of illumination was constantly flickering, you got both colors at once all around you.

It wasn't hard to figure out the why of the decor. Given the Omega's

wardrobe, which was limited to those driven-snow drapery things, he was the prime focal point, the only thing that stood out. The rest was window dressing.

He ran his world like that, too.

"And would this be a mate for you, my son?" the Omega asked from way across the room.

"No," Lash lied. "Just a blood source."

You did not give the Omega more information than you had to: Lash

was well aware of how fickle his father could be and off-the-radar was key.

"Have I not given you enough strength?"

"My vampire nature is what it is."

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J. R.Ward

The Omega turned and faced Lash. After a pause, that distorted voice

whispered, "Indeed. I find that to be true."

"I'll bring her to you," Lash said, straightening from the wall. "To the farmhouse. Tonight. You turn her and I'll have what I need."

"And I cannot provide that to you?"

"You would be providing it to me. You induct her and I have the

blood source required to give me power."

"So you say that you are weak?"

Damn him to hell, but it must be obvious that he was. The Omega

could sense things and surely it had been apparent for some time now.

When Lash stayed quiet, the Omega drifted forward until they were

eye to eye. "I have never inducted a female."

"She wouldn't have to be in the Lessening Society. She would just be for me."

"For you."

"No reason to have her out there fighting."

"And this female. You have chosen her already."

"I have." Lash laughed shortly, thinking of Xhex and the damage she was capable of. "I'm sure you'll approve of her."

"You are so certain."

"I have very good taste."

All around, the red flames trembled on their wicks as if a breeze had ruffled them.

Abruptly, the Omega's hood lifted, revealing the shadowy, translucent face that had angles just like Lash's flesh-and-blood version did.

"Return from whence you came," the Omega pronounced as his dark, smoky hand rose up. With a stroke down Lash's cheek, the evil turned away.

"Return from whence you came."

"I'll meet you at nightfall," Lash said. "At the farmhouse."

"Night. Fall."

"You want it later? How about one. We'll see each other then."

"You shall see me, indeed."

"Thank you, Father."

As the Omega drifted across the floor, that hood settled back into

place of its own volition, and a panel slid open across the way. A moment later, Lash was alone.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his face and looked around at all the red flames and the spectacular walls. The place was kind of like a womb.

With a flash of will, he shot himself out of Dhunhd and back to the nasty little ranch house he'd had to use as a launching pad. As he came 148

J. R.Ward

awake in his corporeal form, he hated the fact that he was stretched out on a couch that had cheesy autumnal leaves on its slipcover. And God, the nap of the fabric was like a buzz cut on a dog . . . and smelled the same, really.

Assuming said four-legged f*cker had rolled in a damp ashtray.

Lifting his head up, he pulled his shirt to his neck. Still there. The lesions were still there and getting larger. And he felt like ass.

His hands shook as he got himself vertical, and when he checked his

phone, he saw nothing from anybody. No voice mail back from Mr. D and no other slayers checking in. Both made sense. Everyone and everything was routed through his second in command so if the SOB had bit it, the Society couldn't find Lash.