Lover Eternal

Zsadist's stare grew hooded. 'Do you think my brother's beautiful?'

'Ah… he's handsome, yes.'

'Handsome. Yeah, that's the word. Tell me something, do you want him badly enough to lie with me?'

Heat bloomed in her, a fire lit by the words he spoke and the way he stared at her with sex in his eyes. But then she realized what he'd said.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand—'

'My twin's celibate from his tongue to his toes. So I'm afraid I'm the closest you'll ever get to Phury.' He made a clucking sound. 'But I'm a poor substitute, aren't I?'

Bella put her hand up to her neck, drowning in images of being under Zsadist's body while he moved inside of her.

What would that be like? To be taken by him? The reckless part of her was desperate to know.

Oh, God. Just thinking about it made her shake.

Zsadist laughed coolly.

'Have I shocked you? Sorry. Just trying to help you out of your rock and hard place. Wanting something you can't have must be a bitch.' His eyes latched on to her throat. 'Myself, I've never had that problem.'

As she swallowed, he tracked the movement. 'Problem?' she whispered.

'What I want, I take.'

Yes, she thought. You certainly do, don't you.

In a burning rush, she imagined him looking down at her while their bodies were merged, his face inches from her own. The fantasy had her lifting her arm. She wanted to run her fingertip down that scar until it got to his mouth. Just to know the feel of him.

With a quick jerk to the side, Zsadist dodged the contact, eyes flaring as if she'd shocked him. The expression was buried fast.

In a flat, cold voice he said, 'Careful there, female. I bite.'

'Will you ever say my name?'

'How about a drink, Bella?' Phury interjected. He took her elbow. 'The bar's over here in the billiard room.'

'Yeah, take her away,' Zsadist drawled. 'You're such a good hero, brother. Always saving somebody. And you should know, she thinks you're handsome.'

Phury's face tightened, but he said nothing as he led her across the foyer.

When she looked back, Zsadist was gone.

Phury gave her arm a tug to get her attention. 'You need to stay away from him.' When she didn't respond, the warrior pulled her into a corner and gripped her shoulders. 'My twin's not broken. He's ruined. Do you understand the difference? With broken, maybe you can fix things. Ruined? All you can do is wait to bury him.'

Her mouth opened slightly. 'That's so… callous.'

'That's reality. If he dies before I do, it will kill me. But that doesn't change what he is.'

She pointedly separated herself from the male. 'I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.'

'Bella—'

'You were going to get me a drink?'

CHAPTER 39

O parallel-parked in front of the towering apartment building. The monolithic eyesore was one of Caldwell's high-rise, luxe setups, an attempt by some developers to turn the riverbank around. C's apartment was on the twenty-sixth floor facing the water.

Pretentious. Seriously pretentious.

Most lessers lived in shitholes because the Society believed in putting its money where its war was. C got away with the flashy style because he could afford it. He'd been a trustafarian before he'd joined in the seventies, and he'd somehow kept his money. The guy was an unusual combination: a dilettante with serial-killer tendencies.

As it was after ten there was no doorman, and picking the electronic lock on the lobby door was the work of a moment. O took the steel-and-glass elevator to the twenty-seventh floor and walked down one flight of stairs, more out of habit than necessity. There was no reason to think anyone would give a crap who he was or where he was going. Besides, the building was a ghost town this time of night, the Euro-trash residents out doing Ecstasy and coke at Zero Sum downtown.

He knocked on C's door.

This was the fifth address he'd visited on Mr. X's list of unaccounted-for members and the first of tonight's forays. The evening before, he'd had good success. One of the slayers had been out of state, having decided on his own to help out a buddy in D.C. Two of the AWOLs, who were roommates, had been injured from getting into a fight with each other; they were healing up and would be back online within a couple of days. The final lesser had been a perfectly healthy SOB who'd just been watching the tube and lying around. Well, perfectly healthy, that was, until he'd sustained an unfortunate accident as O was leaving. It would be a good week before he was up and running again, but the visit had certainly clarified his priorities.

Funny how a couple of cracked kneecaps could do that to a guy.

O knocked again on C's door and then picked the lock. When he opened the door, he recoiled. Oh, shit. The place smelled bad. Like rotting garbage.

He headed for the kitchen.

No, that wasn't trash. That was C.

The lesser was facedown on the floor, a dried pool of black blood around him. Within reach of his hand, there were some bandages and a needle and thread, as if he'd tried to fix himself up. Next to the first-aid stuff was his BlackBerry and the keypad was covered with his blood. A woman's purse, also stained, sat on the other side of him.

O rolled C over. The slayer's neck had been slashed, a good deep cut. And given the way the skin had been cauterized, the slice had been made by one of the Brotherhood's nasty black daggers. Man, whatever they had in that metal was like battery acid on a lesser wound.

C's throat was working, kicking out guttural sounds, proving that you could in fact be a little bit dead. When he brought up his hand, there was a knife in it. A few shallow cuts marked his shirt, as if he'd tried to stab himself in the chest but had lacked the strength to get the job done.

'You're in bad shape, my man,' O said, taking the blade away. He sat back on his heels, watching the guy flail around in slow motion. Lying on his back like that, arms and legs moving uselessly, he was like a June bug about to give up the ghost

O glanced at the purse.

'You taking up an alternative lifestyle, C?' He picked the thing up and went through the contents. Bottle of medicine. Tissues. Tampon. Cell phone.

Hello, wallet.

He took out the driver's license. Brown hair. Gray eyes. Impossible to tell whether the female was a vampire or a human. Address was out Route 22 in the sticks.

'Tell me if I get this right,' O said. 'You and one of those brothers went head-to-head. The warrior had a female with him. You escaped after being knifed and took this purse so you could finish the job on the male's lady friend. Trouble was, your wounds were too severe and you've been lying here ever since you got home. How'm I doing?'

O tossed the wallet into the bag and looked down at the man. C's eyes were rolling around, loose marbles in his deflating bag of a head.

'You know, C, if it were up to me, I'd just leave you here. I don't know if you're aware of this, but when we poof it out of existence, we go back to the Omega. Believe me, what you're going to find on the other side with him is going to make the way you feel now seem like a fucking vacation.' O looked around. 'Unfortunately, you're stinking up the place. Some human's going to come in, and then we've got us a problem.'