Lover Mine

she could...

Just outside Charleston, South Carolina. That’s where it was.

Stepping back, she hit the bed with her calves and sat down. Her first thought was to flash there and see for herself whether it was her former lover or a real live ghost or just some talented television producers making a lot of noise.

But logic overrode the impulse. The last time she’d set her eyes on Murhder, he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. Besides, just because there was an old oil painting that resembled the male didn’t mean he was taking up res in that old manse playing Casper.

Although that was a helluva portriat. And terrorizing humans actually did sound right up his alley.

Shit... she wished him well. She totally did. And if she wasn’t convinced she’d be as unwelcome as the secret she should have told him about after they’d gotten involved, she would have made the trip.

The fact was, however, sometimes the best thing that you could do for someone was stay away from them. And she’d given him her address on the Hudson. He knew where to find her.

God, she hoped he was okay, though.

The knock on the door brought her head around. “Hello?” she said.

“Is that a come-in?” a deep male voice answered.

She got to her feet and frowned, thinking that sure as hell didn’t sound like a doggen. “Yeah. It’s unlocked.”

The door swung wide to reveal... a trunk—as in a wardrobe trunk. A Louis Vuitton wardrobe trunk from back in the day. And she assumed the guy holding it was a Brother—given the shitkickers and leathers showing down below.

Unless Fritz had eschewed the vanilla lifestyle for something out of V’s playbook. And put on a hundred pounds.

The LV lowered enough so that she got a clear shot at Tohrment’s face. The Brother’s expression was serious, but then, he wasn’t a Lite-Brite kind of guy. Never had been... and given where his life had ended up, never would be ever.

He cleared his throat and then inclined his head toward what was up against his chest. “I’ve brought you something. For your mating.”

“Um... well, John and I haven’t registered anywhere.” She motioned for him to come in. “Not like Crate and Barrel carries handguns. But thanks.”

The Brother stepped through the jamb and put the trunk down. The thing was five feet tall and about three feet wide and seemed to be the kind to split wide down the middle.

In the quiet that followed, Tohrment’s eyes traced over her face and yet again she had this odd sense that the guy knew too much about her.

He cleared his throat. “It is customary upon the mating of a female for her family to proffer vestments for the ceremony.”

Xhex frowned again. Then slowly shook her head from side to side. “I have no family. Not really.”

God, that grave, knowledgeable stare of his was freaking her out... and in a rush, her symphath side reached out to thread through his grid, assessing, measuring.

Right. This made no sense. The resonant grief and pride and sadness and joy he was feeling... were reasonable only if he knew her. And as far as she was aware, they were strangers.

To find the answer, she tried to penetrate his mind and memories... but he was blocking her from getting into his brain. Instead of a read on his thoughts... all she got was a scene from Godzilla vs. Mothra.

“Who are you to me?” she whispered.

The Brother nodded at the trunk. “I have brought you... something to wear.”

“Well, yeah, but the why is what I’m more interested in.” Sure, that sounded ungrateful, but manners had never been her strong suit. “Why would you bother?”

“The particular reasons are not relevant, but they are well sufficient.” Read: He wasn’t going to go into it. “Will you let me show you?”

Normally, this would be a no-go for her on so many levels, but this was not a normal day or a normal mood she was in. And she had the oddest sense... that he was protecting her with all his mental blocking. Protecting her from some series of facts that he feared would cut her to the core.

“Yeah. Okay.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable. “Open it.”

The Brother’s knees cracked as he knelt in front of the trunk and took a brass key out of his back pocket. There was a click and then he released the latches on the top and the bottom and moved around behind the thing.

But he didn’t split it wide. Instead, his fingers trailed across the trunk reverently—as his emotional grid nearly collapsed from the pain he was feeling.

Concerned for his mental health and the suffering he was going through, she raised a hand to stop him. “Wait. Are you sure you want to—”

He cracked the trunk open, pulling the front halves wide—

Acres of red satin... acres of deep bloodred satin spilled out of the LV’s confines, falling onto the carpet.

It was a proper mating gown. The kind of thing that was passed down from female to female. The sort of dress that took your breath away even if you weren’t a girlie-girl.

Xhex’s eyes snapped up to the Brother. He wasn’t looking at what he’d brought for her. His stare was locked on the wall across the room, his expression one of forbearance as if what he was doing was killing him.

“Why are you bringing me this?” she whispered, recognizing it for what it had to be. She knew little about the Brother, but she was well aware his shellan had been shot by the enemy. And this had to be Wellesandra’s mating gown. “It’s agony for you.”

“Because a female should have a proper dress to walk down... the...” He had to clear his throat once more. “This dress was last worn by John’s sister on her mating day to the king.”

Xhex narrowed her eyes. “So this is from John?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely.

“You’re lying—I mean no disrespect, but you’re not telling me the truth.” She glanced down at all that red satin. “It’s incredibly beautiful. But I just don’t understand why you would show up here now, tonight, and offer to let me wear it—because your emotions are very personal at this moment in time and you can’t even look at the thing.”

“As I said, my reasons are private. But it would be... a well-intended gesture if you would be mated in it.”

“Why is this so important to you.”

A female voice interrupted them. “Because he was there at the very beginning.”

Xhex wheeled around. In the doorway, standing between the jambs, was a black hooded figure and her first thought was that it was the Scribe Virgin... except there was no light glowing beneath the robes.

Her second thought was that the grid of this female... was a blueprint of Xhex’s own.

To the point where it was identical.

The figure limped forward and Xhex found herself stumbling back and tripping on something. As she went down, she tried to catch her balance on the bed and missed, landing on her ass on the floor.

Their grids were absolutely identical, not in terms of emotions, but the construction itself. Identical... as a mother’s and daughter’s would be.

The female brought her hands up to her hood and slowly lifted that which covered her face.

“Jesus... Christ.”

The exclamation came from Tohrment, and the snap of his voice shifted the female’s iron gray eyes to him. She bowed in slow reverence. “Tohrment... son of Hharm. One of my saviors.”

Xhex was vaguely aware of the Brother bracing himself on the trunk, as if his knees had voted to take a holiday on him. But what she was truly concerned with were the features that had been revealed. They were so like her own, more rounded, true... more delicate, yes... but the bone structure was the same.

“Mother...” Xhex breathed.

As the female’s eyes swung back, she did the same search-and-memorize routine on Xhex’s face. “Verily...