Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(88)

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didn't. The male was out cold. Made sense, though. He'd been busy getting back into shape, eating and working out twenty-four/seven, and the effort was showing. His pants no longer hung off him and his shirts weren't sagging. But clearly the process was exhausting.

Where was Lassiter? John wondered as he went by the desk and into

the closet. The angel usually stuck pretty close to the Brother.

Ducking into the hidden door in the supply shelves, he walked

through the tunnel toward the house. As he went, the fluorescent lights in the ceiling stretched out far, far ahead of him, giving the impression of a predestined path--which considering how things were going was a comfort.

When he came to a shallow set of stairs, he mounted them, entered a code, and went up another flight. Emerging into the foyer, he heard the TV in the billiard room and figured that was where the angel was.

No one else in the house would be watching Oprah. Not without a gun

to his head.

The kitchen was empty, the doggen no doubt catching some food in their own quarters before they had to get First Meal made and set for the household. Which was just as well. He really didn't want help.

Moving fast, he snagged a basket from the pantry and filled the bitch up to the gunwales. Bagels. Thermos full of coffee. Jug of OJ. Cut fruit.

Danish. Danish. Danish. Mug. Mug. Glass.

He was going for high calories and praying she liked sweets.

On that note, he made a turkey sandwich, just in case.

And for a different reason he slapped together a ham and cheese.

Striding out through the dining room, he headed back for the door

beneath the grand staircase--

"Lot of food for two," Lassiter said, his usual smart-ass routine dialed down.

John wheeled around. The angel was in the doorway to the billiard

room, lounging against the ornate archway. He had one boot crossed over the other and his arms linked across his chest. His golden piercings glinted, giving the impression there were eyes all over him, eyes that missed nothing.

Lassiter smiled a little. "So you're seeing things from a different angle now, are you."

As recently as the night before John would have thrown back a f*ck off, but now he was inclined to nod. Especially as he thought of the cracks in the hallway concrete that had been caused by the pain Tohr had been through.

"Good," Lassiter said, "and about damned time. Oh, and I'm not with him at the moment because everyone needs to be alone. Plus I got to have 229

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my O fix."

The angel turned away, his blond-and-black hair swinging. "And you can shut it. Oprah's awesome."

John shook his head and found himself smiling. Lassiter might be a

metrosexual pain in the ass, but he'd brought Tohr back to the Brotherhood and that was worth something.

Through the tunnel. Out the back of the closet. Into the office where Tohr was still asleep.

As John stepped up to the desk, the Brother woke up on a full-body

spasm, his head whipping off the desk. Half of his face was mashed in, as if someone had hit him with a round of spray starch and ironed his shit badly.

"John . . ." he said roughly. "Hey. You need anything?"

John reached into the basket and took out the ham and cheese. Placing it on the desk, he slid it toward the male.

Tohr blinked as if he'd never seen two slices of rye pulling a cinch on some meat before.

John nodded down at it. Eat, he mouthed.

Tohr reached out and placed his hand on the sandwich. "Thanks."

John nodded, his fingertips lingering on the surface of the desk. His goodbye was a quick knock of his knuckles. There was too much to be said in the little time he had, his big concern being that Xhex not wake up alone.

When he hit the door, Tohr said, "I'm really glad you got her back. I'm so damned glad."

As the words drifted over to him, John's eyes latched onto those

cracks out in the corridor. That would have been him, he realized. If Wrath and the Brothers had rolled up to his door with bad news about his female, instead of the good kind, he'd have reacted the exact same way Tohr had.

Tore up from the floor up. Followed by a big outtie.

Over his shoulder, John looked at the pale face of the male who had

been his savior, his mentor . . . the closest thing to a father he'd ever known.

Tohr had gained weight but his face was still hollow and maybe that would never change, no matter how many meals he ate.

As their stares locked, John had the sense that the pair of them had

been through so much more than just the sum of years they'd known each other.

John put the basket down at his feet. I'm taking Xhex out tonight.

"Yeah?"

I'm going to show her where I grew up.

Tohr swallowed hard. "You want the keys to my house?"

John recoiled. He'd meant just to include the guy in what was doing

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with him, kind of a toe-in-the-pool thing to mending shit between them.

I didn't expect to take her there--

"Go. It would be good for you to check it out. The doggen get over there just once a month, maybe twice." Tohr shifted and pulled open one of the desk drawers. As he took out a key fob, he cleared his throat. "Here."