Lover Arisen (Black Dagger Brotherhood #20)(96)

“You could come with me. I could keep you safe—”

“I have my own life.”

“You could bring it with you.”

“A homicide detective’s job? Really? How’s that going to work.”

Balthazar opened his mouth. Closed it.

“It’s okay.” She smiled in a sad way. “I have only one thing to ask.”

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

Her eyes traveled all around his face, and then went lower, to his chest, to his straining arousal.

“Before you leave me,” she said, “let me know you. Let me know… all of you.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE




Back in Devina’s lair, the demon refocused on the door her supposed true love had just waltzed out of, and her first instinct was to shrew her way after him and demand an accounting for exactly why he wasn’t falling in line like the good little love soldier he was supposed to be. Fuck the Omega shit. She didn’t care who he was. Civilian vampire, dumbass human, seat of all evil in the universe? His lineage wasn’t her slowdown.

She was owed him. It was like a transaction where she’d ponied up the money, but the merchandise hadn’t arrived.

Unable to curb her anger, determined to go out into Caldwell and drag him back here by all that Cali-surfer hair of his, she extended her Louboutin forward through the door…

Something in her snapped and she stopped.

It was such a defining moment, such an abrupt shift, that she could have sworn she heard the sound of a tree limb cracking off its trunk. And in the immediate aftermath, her vengeance instantly rebounded, her impulse to take what was hers resurging—

Except it happened again. As she put her foot out for a second time, she heard that weird noise and couldn’t proceed.

Looking over her shoulder, she glared at the Book. It remained open, although for once, it wasn’t acting up. It was just mounted on its invisi-stand, floating at the wall, still and silent.

Devina ran her fingers through her hair and pulled the two halves of her blouse back together. When that didn’t feel like enough of a glow-up, she went over to her three-sided, floor-to-ceiling mirror and pulled an all-angle pivot, checking herself out.

All she saw was perfection: Perfect body, perfect face, perfect hair, perfect smile.

“Have some dignity,” she told her reflection. “Enough with the chasing.”

When she finally turned away from the gorgeous brunette in all the glass, she was calmer, her pot off the boil, even if it was still next to the stove. With a calm, deliberate stride, she headed back over to the Book.

Her therapist had always preached, Breathe and relax. Just breathe and relax when things got dramatic. The woman had maintained it was because emotion changed, but reality didn’t, and to the extent to which one could frame emotions, both positive and negative, one could remain in control even when the world was spinning in ways that screwed you.

Back during Devina’s fifty-minutes-once-a-week era, she’d disregarded the advice. Now? After Jim Heron, the man she’d been obsessed with, had picked a goddamn virgin over her… after a string of losers had passed on her… after she’d pity-fucked countless humans… it was time to find her spine. No more fury surges, no more stamping around and begging for attention.

“I’ve started this,” she said to the open pages of the Book. “And I’m going to finish it. What am I missing.”

For the first time, her eyes focused properly on the wording that had been created for her and her alone. No more skipping over and catching bits and pieces, no more skimming. She read each and every word, and let them sink in:

Love is perfect, but does not require perfection.

Read this three times in a row without ceasing.

That which you project shall come back unto you.

Regard a cherished object as you wish to be regarded. Cradle upon the palm as you wish to be held. Embrace to your bosom that which is inanimate and feel for it as you wish to be felt for.

The choice of object is critical. The more meaningful, the better outcome.

When the connection is made, the window will open and your desire shall appear. Grasp he who shall be revealed, pull him forth, and be united.

A moment of love is free to you as a sentient being. All who exist are deserving of love.

But if you seek an eternity, you must sacrifice that which you seek.

A true love must die for yours to survive.

Balance in all things.



Balance in all things, she thought. That was some Scribe Virgin shit.

Just for good measure, she ran through the lines two more times in the same fashion, setting each of the words to memory. It was strange. She’d missed a lot of them, even though she’d assumed she’d read every letter of every syllable.

Then she put her hand on the page, splaying out her fingers. A sudden warmth suffused her palm, and as you would a dog, she petted the parchment. Old Devina—the Devina who had existed two and a half minutes ago—would have stomped and yelled and then run off into chaos. New Devina was not going to do that.

A true love must die for yours to survive.

How had she missed that part before? Especially when the shit had gone disco and all the lines had lit up like a rainbow? Why hadn’t she seen this?

But like that mattered. What was important was that she needed to follow directions—sure, she’d done the first part just fine, but there was a second step here.