The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 1)

Rhage had never understood it. If he were going to be on such alert? It was going to be to keep from being stabbed. Beheaded. Shot. It was not going to be worrying about which fork he used—

He groaned as a streak of agony at his ribs stole his breath. Were they taking out his lungs?

“Forgive me,” Havers said in a gentle tone. “The bullet is removed.”

There was a clank! as something metal hit something metal. And then there was a momentary relief before the next sharp pain, this time lower down, by his hip. The sequence of a spike of pain followed by that clank! was repeated two more times.

“Thank you, healer,” Rhage mumbled.

“It is my honor to be of service.”

There were stitches to follow, but they were a mere inconvenience rather than anything uncomfortable. And then everyone seemed to take a step back and regard him as if they were looking for further injury. Or perhaps his expiration.

“Will you take no pain relief?” the healer asked.

“No, none.”

Time to go, Rhage thought.

With that resolve, he went to sit up, fully invested in the intention of getting upon his feet, but every hand that was around him landed upon him. As a chorus of “No, stay down” rippled through the bedroom, he was prepared to argue—and yet his tongue seemed sluggish in his mouth and his brain couldn’t quite get the wording right.

“You need to feed,” Havers said. “Is there a . . . would there be . . .”

“A female of whom to avail myself?” Rhage prompted as he collapsed back against pillows that he must have stained. “I am sure I could find one.”

“That is a difficulty he has never suffered from,” Darius muttered.

“No, no, allow me to bring you a fitting vein,” Jabon spoke up. “I will be certain that you will be revitalized by her. I have one presently in mind and she is downstairs.”

“All right.” Rhage glared at them all, even though they were little more than a fog around him. “But then I will be off.”

Havers cleared his throat. “I’m afraid, sire, that you must rest the day herein. And perhaps stay longer. You have much to recover from.”

“You have to stay here,” the aristocrat rushed in. “We shall attend all of your needs with promptness and precision, ensuring your speedy recovery.”

Just what he was looking for. A debt owed to a sycophant. The infernal repayment of such an obligation was going to be more than he could endure cheerfully.

“You overestimate my injuries.” To prove his point, Rhage pushed their palms off of himself, sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the bedding. “I do not need to feed and I am—”

As he put weight upon his soles, he had a brief moment of triumph.

The collapse that followed was a total repudiation of his purported strength and independence. And but for Darius’s quick hold upon his biceps, he would have hit the floor—and likely shattered as glass dropped upon stone.

The other brother did not address him. “Yes, Jabon, we shall avail ourselves of your hospitality, and if there is indeed a willing female with a vein, we would be most grateful for her service. Further, please reassure her that the feeding will be witnessed.”

“Right away,” the happy host said.

As a door opened and closed, the sounds and smells of the gathering below flared briefly. And then all was quiet.

“I have done what I can thus far,” Havers said. “Send a doggen unto me if he requires aught during the day. My home is across the street, as you know, so I will be able to get to him in a covered conveyance if I must. I believe he will be well enough provided he feeds, however.”

“Thank you, healer,” Tohrment intoned.

When Rhage was alone with his brothers, he grimaced. “Mayhap we should clean me if there is a female to be present?”

“Aye,” Tohrment said. “I shall start the bath. Jabon took all pains to inform me that his tubs have gas burners underneath, so you will be warm.”

Thank the Virgin Scribe, Rhage thought as the male went into the bathroom.

When the sound of rushing water drifted over, he turned his head to Darius and frowned. “You are in formal dress as well.”

“I was attending the ball when you were found down by the river. I was summoned unto you.”

“Who found me?”

There was a pause. “Zsadist.”

Now Rhage lifted his head, in spite of his sore neck. “You lie.”

“Whyever for? ’Tis the truth. To keep you safe, he slaughtered the population of that lesser encampment in the forest there. He fought them all off after you collapsed, and the stragglers he hunted down and killed after he came and found me here at the celebration. You should be grateful unto him.”

Rhage pictured the brother with the scarred face and the dead, black eyes. “That male kills because he likes to, not to protect anyone. He cares not even for his blooded brother.”