Lover Reborn

“Was it arranged?”

“Yeah, by my mahmen. My father didn’t care about that kind of thing—or for me, for that matter. But my mother took care of things the best she could—and she was smart. She knew if I got a good female, I’d be set for life. Or at least… that was the plan.”

“Is your mahmen alive?”

“No, and I’m glad she isn’t. She wouldn’t have… liked any of this.”

“And your father?”

“He’s dead, too. He disowned me until he got close to the grave. About six months before he died, he called me to him—and I wouldn’t have gone but for Wellsie. She made me, and she was right. He formally reclaimed me on his deathbed. I’m not sure why it was so important to him, but there you go.”

“What about Darius? I have not seen him around—”

“He was killed by the enemy. Just before Wellsie was.” As she gasped and put her hand to her mouth, he nodded. “It’s been hell, really.”

“You are all alone,” she said in a small voice.

“I have my brothers.”

“Do you let them in.”

With a short laugh, he shook his head. “You are hell’s bells with the rhetoricals, you know that?”

“I am sorry, I—”

“No, don’t apologize.” He put the quill back in its holder. “I like talking to you.”

As he heard the surprise in his own voice, he laughed harshly. “Man, I’m just making all kinds of charm points with you tonight, aren’t I.” Slapping his thighs to end their conversation, he got to his feet with the help of the crutch. “Listen, I also came here to do a little research. Do you know where the library is? Damned if I can find it.”

“Yes, of course.” As she stood, she swept that hood up over her head again. “I shall take you there.”

While she went past him, he frowned. “You’re limping worse than usual. Did you get hurt?”

“No. When I move around too much, it aches.”

“We could take care of that down below—Manello is—”

“Thank you, but no.”

Tohr threw out a hand and stopped her before she went out the door. “The hood. Leave it down, please.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “There’s no one here but us. You’re safe.”

FOURTEEN

As John Matthew stood on the shores of the Hudson River about fifteen minutes north of downtown Caldwell, he felt like he was a thousand miles away from everyone.

At his back, he had the prevailing breeze as well as a small hunting cabin that, if you didn’t know what it was, you’d write off as something not worth the effort to knock over. The place was a fortress, however, with steel-reinforced walls, an impenetrable roof, bulletproof windows… and enough firepower in its garage to make half the population of the city see God up close and personal.

He had assumed Xhex would come here. Been so convinced, he hadn’t bothered to track her.

But she wasn’t—

A flare of headlights off to the right brought his head around. A car was coming down the lane, slowly approaching the cabin.

John frowned as he got an earful of the engine: low, deep, a mean growl.

That was no Hyundai or Honda. Couldn’t be a Harley, too smooth.

Whatever the hell it was meandered by and kept going, all the way to the tip of the point where that big-ass house had been put up. A few moments later, lights began to go on inside the mansion, illumination pouring out of its curved porches and stacked, three-story straightaways.

Damn thing looked like a spaceship about to take off.

Not his biz. And it was time to go, anyway.

With a mute curse, he scattered his molecules and zeroed in on the armpit of Caldie, that stretch of bars, strip clubs, and tattoo places down around Trade Street.

The Iron Mask had been Rehvenge’s second club, a dance/sex/drug facility created to cater to a Goth demographic unserviced by his first establishment, ZeroSum—which had had more of a Eurotrash kind of vibe.

There was a line to get in—always was—but the two bouncers, Big Rob and Silent Tom, recognized him and let him in ahead of everyone else.

Velvet drapes, deep-seated couches, black lights… women in black leather with white makeup and hair extensions down to their asses… men clustered in groups, strategizing on how to get laid… moody music with lyrics that made you think fondly of eating a bullet.

But maybe that was just his mood.

And she was here. He could sense his blood in Xhex, and he headed through the crowd, zeroing in on the signal.

As he got to the unmarked door that led into the staff-only part of the club, Trez stepped out of the shadows. Natch.

“What’s doing,” the Shadow said, offering his palm.

The two clapped a grip, knocked shoulders, and slapped each other’s backs.

“You here to talk to her?” When John nodded, the guy opened the door. “I gave her the office beside the locker room next to me. Go on back—she’s just checking her staff reports—”

The Shadow stopped abruptly, but he’d said enough.

Jesus Christ…

“Ah, yeah, she’s back there,” the guy muttered, like he was sooo staying out of this one.

John ducked in and strode down the corridor. When he got to a closed door, he didn’t see a sign with her name on it, but wondered how long that would last.

And he knocked, even though she had to know he was here.

When she called out, he pushed in—

Xhex was in the far corner, bent over and pulling at something on the floor. As she looked up with a glare, she froze; which told him that, in fact, she hadn’t noticed he’d arrived.

Great. She was so into her new old job, she’d forgotten about him already.

“Ah… hey.” Glancing back down, she resumed what she was doing, yanking at—

An extension cord whipped out from underneath the file cabinet, the sharp-toothed end going flying.

Before it ripped around and caught her a good one, he leaped forward, snatched a hold on the thing, and took the hit himself, the sting of pain lighting off on his rib cage.

“Thanks,” she said as he handed it over and stepped away. “It was jammed back there.”

So… you’re going to work here now?

“Yeah. I am. I don’t think that other option is realistic. And”—her eyes got hard—“if you try to tell me I can’t—”

God, Xhex, this is not what we are. He motioned back and forth over the desk that separated them. This is not us.

“Actually, I guess it is, because we’re here, aren’t we.”

I don’t want to stop you from fighting—

“But you have. Let’s not pretend otherwise.” Xhex sat down in the office chair and leaned back, a squeak rising up. “Now that you and I are mated, the Brothers, even your king, take their cues from you—no, wait, I’m not finished.” She closed her eyes as if exhausted. “Just let me talk this out. I know they respect me, but they respect a mated male’s prerogative over his shellan more. It’s not specific to the Brotherhood—it’s the very fabric of vampire society, and no doubt it’s because a bonded male is a dangerous animal. You can’t change that, and I can’t live like that, so yeah, this is where we are.”

I can talk to them, make them—