Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(62)

Yeah, well, she probably wasn't going to be in a hurry to text his ass, John thought. And as for the Lash thing? He wasn't sure he could let that one go. Even for her.

To cut off his own thinking, John put out his palm. The two of them

met chest-to-chest in a brief hug and then John dematerialized.

When he took form, he was back at the Xtreme Park, behind the shed,

looking out over the empty ramps and bowls. The head drug pusher wasn't back. No skating, either. Both made sense. Raid the night before with a shitload of cops coming? To say nothing of the bullet shower?

Place was going to be a ghost town for a while.

John leaned against rough wood, his senses alert. He was aware of

time passing, both because of the position of the moon pinwheeling in an arc overhead, and because his brain downshifted from manic spin to a more reasonable churn. Which still sucked but was easier to sit with.

She was out and he didn't even know what condition she was in. Was

she hurt? Did she need to feed? Did--

Right. Time to stop playing that loop.

And he probably should take off. Wrath had been pretty damned clear

about that no-fighting-without-Qhuinn business and this would still be 164

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considered a hot spot for the enemy.

Abruptly, he realized where he had to go.

Pushing himself out of his lean, he paused and looked around with a

frown. The sensation of being watched, of being followed, cloaked him once again--just like it had back at that tat shop.

Tonight, however, he just didn't have the energy to support a good

dose of paranoia, so he simply dematerialized, figuring whoever or whatever it was would either track him again or he'd lose them in the ether--and he didn't care which it would be.

He was pretty f*cking worn-out.

When he took form again, he was a mere handful of blocks from

where he'd done the number on that lesser the night before. From the inner pocket of his leather jacket, he took out a copper key that was just like the one Rehv had put to use on the hunting cabin.

He'd had the thing for about a month and a half. Xhex had given it to him the night he had told her she could trust him with her s ymphath secret, and like her cilices, he took it with him wherever he went.

Ducking under the stairs of a brownstone, he inserted the sliver of

metal and opened the door. The lights in the basement hall were motion-activated and the stretch of whitewashed stone was instantly illuminated.

He was careful to lock up behind himself and then he went down to

the only door.

She had given him sanctuary in this private place once before. Had

granted him access to her basement room when he had needed to be alone.

And when he'd taken advantage of the hospitality, it had led to her taking his virginity.

She'd refused to kiss him, though.

The same key worked in the door to the bedroom, the locking

mechanism shifting smoothly. As he swung the metal panels wide, the light came on and he stepped in--

John died a little at what he saw on the bed: His heart and breath

stopped, his brain waves ceased, his blood froze in his veins.

Xhex's bare-naked body was curled up on the sheets.

As the room was flooded with illumination, her hand tightened on the

gun that lay flat on the mattress and was pointed at the door.

She didn't have the strength to lift either her head or the weapon, but he was highly confident she could pull that trigger.

Raising up his arms and showing his palms, he stepped to the side and kicked the door shut to protect her.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "John . . ."

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A single, bloodred tear pooled in the eye he could see and he watched it slowly ease over the bridge of her nose and drop onto the pillow.

Her hand retreated from the weapon and went to her face, moving

inch by inch, as if it took all she had in her to draw it upward. She covered herself the only way she was able, her shield of palm and fingers hiding her tears from him.

She was marked all over with welts and bruises in various stages of

healing and she'd lost so much weight, her bones seemed about to break through her flesh. Her skin was gray instead of a healthy pink and her natural scent was nearly nonexistent.

She was dying.

The horror of it all weakened his knees to the point that he listed and had to catch himself back against the door.

But even as he wobbled, his mind kicked into gear. Doc Jane needed

to come look at her and Xhex needed to feed.

They didn't have a lot of time left.

If she was going to live, he was going to have to take charge here.

John ripped off his leather jacket and yanked up his sleeve as he

headed to her. The first thing he did was gently cover her nakedness by folding the top sheet across her. The second was shoving his cocked wrist right up to her mouth . . . and waiting for her instincts to take over.

Her mind might not want him, but her body was not going to be able

to resist what he had to offer.

Survival always won out over matters of the heart. He was living

proof of it.

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J. R.Ward

TWENTY-TWO

Xhex felt a soft brush across her shoulder and hip as John drew the sheet around her.