Lover Unleashed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #9)(131)

“What. Anything. Name it.”

“If you’re going to hang around until dawn, go inside. It’s f*cking freezing as shit out here, true.” He stepped back. “Go on . . . go hang with your . . . male. . . .” He rubbed his eyes and she had a feeling he was remembering what he’d walked in on when she’d been in the shower with her healer. “I’ll come back . . . ah, call. . . . Do you have a phone? Here, take my—Fuck, I don’t have it.”

“It is okay, brother mine. I shall return at dawn.”

“Good, yeah—I should know by then.”

She stared at him. “I love you.”

Now he smiled. Broadly, and without reserve. Reaching out, he brushed her face. “I love you, too, sis. Now get in there and get warm.”

“I shall.” She jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. “I shall!”

With a wave, she dematerialized through the glass.

Oh, how the interior felt hot in comparison to the terrace . . . or perhaps it was the rush of joy that had spread throughout her. Whatever it was, she did a spin on one foot and then went over to the bed.

Manuel was not just aslumber, but passed out—she did not care, though. Climbing onto the bed, she put an arm around him—and instantly, he groaned and turned to her, pulling her close, holding her. As their bodies melded together, and his erection pushed into her hip, her eyes shot to the terrace.

No reason to force their luck with Vishous—but alas, he was gone.

Grinning in the dark, she got comfortable and stroked her male’s shoulder. This was all going to work out, and the key was the overwhelming logic that Vishous had detailed. In fact, the argument was so dispositive, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself.

Wrath might not like it; however, he was going to agree because facts were facts—and he was a fair ruler who had proven time and again that he was not a slave to the old ways.

As she settled in, she knew there was no chance she was going to fall asleep and thereby run the risk of getting burned by the sun: She was incandescent herself as she lay on the bed beside Manuel, glowing so bright she cast shadows in the room.

No sleeping for her.

She just wanted to enjoy this feeling.

Forever.





FORTY-FIVE


Vishous got home in the blink of an eye, and after he checked in with Jane in the clinic, he headed for the big house through the underground tunnel. As he came out in the foyer, all he heard was a resounding nothing-much-at-all and he was uncomfortable with the silence.

So frickin’ quiet.

Of course, typically, this would be because it was two a.m. and the Brothers would be out in the field. Tonight, though, everyone was hunkered down, probably having sex, recovering from sex, or in the midst of doing it again.

I feel like I’ve made love to you for the very first time.

As Jane’s voice came back at him, he didn’t know whether to smile or kick his own ass. But whatever, it was a brave new world for him, starting tonight—not that he was entirely sure what that meant, but he was on it. He was so on it.

Hitting the grand staircase, he beelined for Wrath’s study, while patting every pocket he didn’t have. He was still in the damn johnny. With the bloodstains. And no damn cigs.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Sire? Do you require aught?”

As he stopped at the head of the stairs, he looked over at Fritz, who was cleaning the banister, and nearly kissed the butler on the piehole. “I’m out of my tobacco. Rolling papers—”

The old doggen smiled so widely, the wrinkles in his face made him look like a Shar-Pei. “I have more of it all down in the pantry. I shall be right back—are you going in to meet with the king?”

“Yeah.”

“I shall bring them to you there—as well as a robe, perhaps?”

The second half was said delicately.

“Shit, thank you, Fritz. You’re a lifesaver.”

“No, you are, sire.” He bowed. “You and the Brotherhood save us all each night.”

Fritz scurried along his way, going down the staircase with more spring in his step than you’d expect. Then again, he loved nothing more than to be of service. Which was very cool.

Right. Time to go to work.

Feeling like a total reject in the johnny, V marched over to the closed doors of Wrath’s study, curled up a fist and knocked.

The king’s voice came through the heavy wood panels: “Come in.”

V pushed inside. “It’s me.”

“S’up, brother.”

At the far end of the pansy-ass colored room, Wrath was behind his massive desk, sitting on his father’s throne. Down on the floor beside him, lying on a personalized Orvis dog bed in royal red, George lifted his blond head and pricked his perfect triangle ears. The golden retriever thumped his tail in greeting, but did not leave his master’s side.

The king and his Seeing Eye dog were never apart. And not just because Wrath needed the help.

“So, V.” Wrath eased back in the carved chair, his hand falling down to stroke his dog’s head. “Your scent is interesting.”

“Is it.” V took the seat across from the king, putting his palms on his thighs and squeezing in an attempt to distract himself from his nicotine craving.