Prisoner of Night (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #16.5)(59)

There was no reason to wear nightclothes, not that they had much to change into—and funny how none of that mattered. After everything they had been through, things like changes of socks and clean underwear were way down the list of urgent priorities. Undoubtedly, this would recalibrate, however.

At least, she hoped it did.

“I look forward to normal,” she said as she nestled in against him. “To First Meal with you. Last Meal with you. Nightly habits are such a blessing.”

As he kissed her on the top of the head, she heard him mumble something. She yawned. Winced as she shifted and her shoulder protested. Knew that the feeding she’d just had would take her light-years ahead in her healing.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” Duran returned.

There was a strange tension in his voice, one that made her nervous on some deep level even as she told herself not to worry about it. And then her body’s need for rest overrode her mind’s warning system, sleep arriving and slamming the door on the external world.

Subsuming her in a glorious float.

Where, for once, there were no bad dreams.





37




DURAN DIDN’T SLEEP.

Even though he was beyond exhausted, he could not let go of consciousness, no matter how many times he closed his eyes and resolved to follow Ahmare’s excellent example.

Sometime around three in the afternoon, he told himself it was because his body was one giant contusion. He told himself the insomnia was also because he was in a strange house. And finally, he told himself it was excitement over the future, over his love with Ahmare . . . over the fact that against the odds, he’d finally escaped Chalen’s hold.

Freedom, after all, was heady stuff. And that was before you tacked on two decades of having been tortured.

By the time the sun dropped below the horizon, however, he knew none of that was the problem.

Inside his soul, something vital was screaming, the terrible energy emanating from the center of his chest and contaminating all of him. His love for Ahmare was great enough to make him want to stay with her in spite of the agitation.

But in the end, he got out of bed.

Duran moved slowly so as not to disturb her, although he feared the “why” behind the respect he paid to her slumber. He found some clothes hanging in the closet, ones that were not his own but that fit his body—to the point where he wondered if Nexi hadn’t hoped the pair of them would end up here in this safe house.

Dressed and standing over the bed, he stared down at Ahmare, watching her move into the warm spot he’d left under the covers. Her face was tucked into the blankets, her dark lashes on her cheeks, her hair on the pillow where he had laid his head. In her repose, she seemed innocent and young, something to be protected.

And here he was, resolving to leave her.

As he turned away, he felt like death had come to him once more. And this time, it would not be denied.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the big door of the mountain house. He had no idea how he had come to be there, what commands he had given his body, what plan he had for where he was going.

All he knew was that he was—

“Do not tell me you’re leaving her.”

Twisting around, he looked at Nexi, who had mounted the open stairs coming up from the basement. The Shadow’s deep-set eyes were accusatory. Her tone was worse.

Duran refocused on the door. “He’s inside me, too.”

“What the hell are you talking about.” The Shadow came around and put herself in between him and the exit. “Your sire?”

“You know what he did to my mahmen.”

“And you think you’re going to pull that shit on Ahmare? Come on.” Nexi crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “You’ve done nothing but try to save people. Your mahmen. Me. Ahmare and her brother. You do not have to worry about turning into your father just because you’re in love.”

He focused on the Shadow properly instead of looking over her shoulder at the door. “I’m sorry. For hurting you. I know I did, and I shouldn’t have.”

Nexi glanced away. Then shrugged. “It is what it is. You know, two decades ago, when I was getting out of the colony . . . I wasn’t in the right place for a relationship anyway. I was knee-deep in all kinds of bad thoughts and bad patterns. Who knows what I actually felt for you. I thought it was love. Maybe it was more like relief and grief coupled with a terror of being alone.”

“I should have said something. To let you know . . .”

“What, that you weren’t available? I knew that, and I cared anyway. Words don’t change emotions. Time does.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Good. I’m glad. Now don’t fuck things up with that female just because you’re running again. The mountain is down. Ahmare said they all died. It’s over.”

“I think my father ended everything right after my mahmen died and he gave me to Chalen. The bodies had decomposed entirely. Only bones were left.”

“He was straight-up evil.”

“I want to kill him.”

“Is that where you’re going with all those weapons?”

Duran looked down at himself and was surprised to find that he had not only clothed himself but also strapped on all his guns and ammo. “I don’t know where I’m going and that’s the truth.”