Lover Eternal

But God, he wished he'd gone with Tohrment when he'd had the—

A knock sounded on the door. John looked up, hope and fear twisting into a rope in his chest.

'Son? It's me, Tohrment. Open up.'

John rushed across the room, tore the locks back, and nearly threw himself at the man.

Tohrment's brows came down over his navy-blue eyes. 'What's the matter, John? You got trouble?'

He wasn't sure how much to say about the pale man he'd met in the stairwell, and in the end, decided to keep quiet. He wasn't going to risk Tohrment's changing his mind because the kid he was thinking of taking in was a paranoid psycho.

'Son?'

John went for his pad and pen while Tohrment shut the door.

I'm glad you came. Thank you.

Tohrment read the words. 'Yeah, I would have gotten here sooner, but last night I had… business I needed to attend to. So have you thought about—'

John nodded and scribbled quickly. I want to come with you.

Tohrment smiled a little. 'That's good, son. That's a good choice.'

John took a deep breath, beyond relieved.

'Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to come back tomorrow night and pick you up. I can't take you home now because I'm out in the field until dawn.'

John swallowed fresh panic. But come on, he told himself. What was one more day?

Two hours before dawn, Rhage and Vishous went to the Tomb's entrance. Rhage waited in the woods while V took inside the jar they'd found at the lesser's place on LaCrosse.

The other address had proven to be an abandoned torture center. In the stuffy basement of the low-rent two-story, they'd found dust-covered instruments as well as a table and restraints. The place was a horrifying testimony to the Society's change in strategy from fighting the brothers to snatching and hurting civilians. Both he and Vishous had been choked with vengeance as they'd left.

On the way back to the compound, they'd stopped at Mary's so V could scope the rooms and figure out what he'd need to wire the place up good and tight. Being there had been hell. Seeing her things. Remembering the first night he'd gone to find her. He hadn't been able to look at the couch at all because it reminded him of what he'd done to her body on the floor behind it.

All that felt like a lifetime ago.

Rhage cursed and resumed scanning the forest around the cave's mouth. When V came out, the two of them dematerialized to the main house's courtyard.

'Hey, Hollywood, Butch and I are going to One Eye for a nightcap. You want to come?'

Rhage looked up at the dark windows of his bedroom.

Even though a trip to One Eye left him cold, he knew he shouldn't be alone. With the way he was feeling, he was liable to go find Mary and make an ass out of himself by begging. Which would just be wasted humiliation. She'd made it clear where they stood, and she wasn't the kind of female who was open to persuasion. Besides, he was through playing the lovesick idiot.

For the most part.

'Yeah. I'll hang with you boys.'

V's eyes flared as if he'd made the offer to be polite and hadn't expected a yes. 'Okay. Good deal. We're leaving in fifteen. I need a shower.'

'Me, too.' He wanted to get the lesser blood off him.

As he walked through the mansion's vestibule and into the foyer, Fritz came out of the dining room.

The butler bowed deeply. 'Good evening, sire. Your guest is here.'

'Guest?'

'The Chosen's Directrix. She indicated you had called upon her.'

Shit. He'd forgotten he'd put the request in, and it wasn't like he needed their services anymore. If Mary wasn't in his life, he didn't require any special feeding arrangements. He was free to go suck and fuck whoever he wanted. Oh, joy.

God, the idea of being with anyone but Mary made him shrivel in his pants.

'Sire? Are you receiving?'

He was about to say no, but then figured that was not a smooth move. Considering his past history with the Scribe Virgin, it wasn't wise to offend her special class of females.

'Tell her I'll be with her in a few minutes.'

He jogged upstairs to his room, turned the shower on to warm up, and then called V. The brother didn't seem surprised he was bailing on the trip to the bar.

Too bad it wasn't for the reason Vishous obviously assumed.

Mary came awake because she heard talk drifting up from the foyer. It was Rhage's voice. She'd recognize that deep rumble anywhere.

Slipping from the bed, she went to the gap she'd left in the door.

Rhage was coming up the stairs. His hair was damp, as if he'd just taken a shower, and he was dressed in a loose black shirt and baggy black pants. She was about to step into the hall when she saw he was not alone. The woman with him was tall and had a long blond braid of hair down her back. She was dressed in a filmy white gown, and together they looked like some kind of Goth wedding pair, he in all that black, she draped in that gossamer fabric. When they got to the head of the stairs, the woman paused, as if she didn't know which way to turn. Rhage put his hand under her elbow and looked down at her solicitously, as if she were so fragile, she might crack a bone just getting to the second floor.

Mary watched them go into his room. The door shut behind them.

She went back over to the bed and got in it. Images came crashing down on her head. Rhage all over her body with his mouth and his hands. Rhage thanking her for feeding him. Rhage looking at her while he told her he loved her.

Yeah, he loved her all right. So much so that he was doing another woman across the hall.

The instant the thought streaked through her mind, she knew she was being unreasonable. She'd pushed him away. He'd taken the hint. She had no right to blame him for having sex with someone else.

She'd gotten exactly what she'd asked for.

He was letting her go.

CHAPTER 34

The following evening, just before nightfall, Rhage went to the gym as a matter of public service. When he finished with the weights, he got on the treadmill and started running. The first five miles flew by. By mile six, he'd polished off his water. When mile nine arrived, the ass-kicking started.

He increased the incline and fell back into his stride. His thighs were screaming, clenching, burning. His lungs were on fire. His feet and knees were aching.

Grabbing the shirt he'd taken off and hung on the console, he used the thing to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. He figured he was dehydrated as shit by now, but he wasn't getting off for water. He had every intention of going until he fell over.

To keep up the bruising pace, he lost himself in the music pounding through the speakers. Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana. The stuff was loud enough to drown out the hum of the treadmill, the songs screeching through the weight room, vile, aggressive, deranged. Same as his frame of mind.

When the sound got cut off, he didn't bother looking around. He figured the stereo had kicked it or someone wanted to talk to him, and he wasn't interested in dealing with either.

Tohr stepped in front of the machine. The brother's expression had Rhage off the belt and punching the STOP