The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #1)(44)

Talk about shutting doors—well, certain doors. But he had to make sure she understood there was no future in this.

“You deserve more than what I can give you,” he said, tempering his voice. “So you go and find yourself a nice male from a good bloodline, yes? And leave the likes of me alone.”

At this point, he had no clue what he was telling her. He just wanted her out.

“You are a hero.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “You fight for the race. You keep us safe. Who could e’er be more worthy than you—”

“I am a soldier and a killer.” And cursed by the Scribe Virgin. “I am not what you’re looking for. You have a wonderful life awaiting you, and you must endeavor to go find it. Elsewhere.”

Out in the hall, a figure passed by, and Rhage whistled.

The Jackal, as the male turned out to be, pivoted and presented his form unto the open doorway. In a dry voice, he murmured, “Somehow I cannot believe this is a situation that requires an audience.”

How wrong you are, Rhage thought. And not because he was an exhibitionist.

“Ellany was just leaving,” he said. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to hold the door open for her.”

Across the tense air, the female lowered her head and sniffled. Then she gathered her gossamer robing unto her breasts and scooted out past the other male.

“Shit,” Rhage muttered as he collapsed back into the pillows. “I cannot wait to get out of here.”

“I must confess,” the Jackal said, “I am unsure how to respond to that. Given the opportunity you just turned down.”

“That is not an opportunity, that is another kind of prison, the warden of which is her virtue, or rather, the loss thereof. And there is no response necessary from you—no, wait. That is incorrect. I bid you, breathe deeply the now.”

The other male glanced down the hallway. Then he looked across to the bed once more. After a long, slow inhale, he nodded.

“There is no evidence of your arousal. If that is what you seek for me to attest.”

“Yes. And I may need you to share this impotence with others, should the need arise.”

“But of course.” The Jackal laughed softly. “A honey trap averted, then.”

“Poor little female. She has been thrown into depths in which to drown thanks to that mahmen of hers.”

“Assets are to be used by the glymera in whatever form they come, be they houses, horses, or daughters. It is their most reliable trait, other than censure.”

“Are you not one among them, though? Your accent belies your status. As do your clothes, and the fact that Jabon has welcomed you herein.”

“That male does cultivate quite a crowd of swells, doesn’t he. And as for the mahmen of your half-clothed visitor? She is well-connected unto our host. She has been here before many a time and she does not sleep alone, if you understand my inference.”

Rhage had to smile. He could respect anyone who wished to keep their own details private.

Not that such reticence would prevent him from inquiry.

“You have been here very much often yourself or you would not know this.”

“The mahmen took pains to tell me how often she stayed. However, I learned from another that she is rather hard on her luck, I’m afraid. Hellren passed unexpectedly with gambling debts. I believe she sees the comely nature of that daughter as a lifeboat for the both of them. Jabon accommodates them with some regularity on account of certain . . . preferences, shall we say . . . lavished upon him by the mahmen. I think she will be ultimately disappointed in him, though. However generous he is with his guest bedrooms, I gather he is tightfisted when it comes to cash dispersals.”

“How convoluted it all is.”

“Not really.”

Rhage thought of the daughter. “The sad thing is . . . I cannot recall even her hair color. Nor that of her eyes.”

“She is fair of both. And rather attractive.”

“Ah.” Rhage cocked an eyebrow. “What of you, then? Perhaps you could avail yourself of the opportunity.”

“Never.”

As Rhage just continued to stare across the room, the Jackal once more glanced behind himself to the empty hallway. “Is there something awry?”

“Nothing awry.” Rhage smiled anew. “But I do feel compelled to comment on something.”

“I believe you’ve covered the young female and her first-blooded relation nicely.”

“There are two kinds of people who keep things from others—”

“Well, I must continue on to my own room—”

“Those who have something to hide and those who wish to hide how little they possess.” When the male went to turn away, Rhage put some real volume into his voice. “I want you to know that in either case, I do not judge.”

The Jackal stopped and lowered his brows. “You do not know anything about me.”

“I am not so certain about that. I recognized you the first moment I saw you.”

“Our paths have never crossed.”

“I know you from somewhere and you had the same feeling. I saw your expression when first we met.” Rhage wagged his forefinger back and forth. “And nothing you say or do will change my mind—”

“I hail from the South. I was born there and was raised there. I told you Jabon’s sire aided me when I was first orphaned, and so of course, I have stayed in contact with the son. That is all, I am afraid. So uninteresting.”