Lover Unleashed (Black Dagger Brotherhood 9)

This time he saw a hand first . . . a pale hand that was digging its nails into the damp asphalt and retracting like it was trying to hoe up the ground.

The lesser was just torso, but it was still alive—although that wasn’t a miracle; it was how they worked: Until you stabbed them through the heart with something that was made of steel, they hung around, no matter what state their bodies were in.

As V slowly moved his palm-light upward, he got a load of the thing’s face. Its mouth was stretching wide, the tongue clicking as if it were trying to speak. Typical of the current crop of killers, this one was a new recruit, his dark skin and hair having yet to turn floury white.

V stepped over the bastard and kept going. A couple of yards over, he found the two halves of a second one.

As the back of his neck went ants-all-over in warning, he passed his glowing hand around, moving outward from the bodies in a concentric circle.

Well, well, well . . . wasn’t this a blast from the past.

And so not in a good way.

Back at the Brotherhood’s compound, Payne lay in her bed, waiting.

She was not good at patience at the best of times, and she felt as though ten years passed before her healer finally came back to her. When he did, he brought with him a thin booklike panel.

As he sat down on the bed, there was tension in his strong, handsome face. “Sorry that took so long. Jane and I were firing up this laptop.”

She had no clue what th

at meant. “Just tell me whatever there is to say.”

With quick, nimble hands, he opened the top half of the contraption. “Actually, you need to see it for yourself.”

Feeling as though she wanted to curse loud and often, she dragged her eyes to the screen. Immediately, she recognized the image of the room she was in. This was from before, however, because as she lay on the bed, she was staring at the bathroom. The frame was frozen like a picture, but then a little white arrow moved when he touched something and the picture became animated.

With a frown, she focused on herself. She was glowing: Any piece of flesh that showed was illuminated from within. Why ever was that—

First she sat up from the pillow, her neck craned so that she could spy on her healer. More leaning to the side. And then maneuvering downward upon the bed . . .

“I sat upright,” she breathed. “Onto my knees!”

Indeed, her luminescent form had raised itself up perfectly and hovered with precise balance as she watched him in the shower.

“You most certainly did,” he said.

“I am aglow as well. Why is that, though?”

“We were hoping you could tell us. You ever do that before?”

“Not that I was aware of. But I have been imprisoned for so long, I feel as though I know not myself.” The file stopped. “Do play it again?”

When her healer didn’t reply, and the pictures didn’t renew their action, she glanced over at him—only to recoil. His face was showing a thunderous rage, the anger so deep, his eyes were nearly black.

“Imprisoned how?” he demanded. “And by who?”

Strange, she thought dimly. She’d always been told humans were a far milder form of creature than vampires. But her healer’s protective response was every bit as deadly as that of her own species.

Unless, of course, it wasn’t about protection. It was entirely possible that her having been jailed was not attractive to him.

And who could blame him?

“Payne?”

“Ah . . . Forgive me, healer—perhaps my word choice is incorrect, as English is a second language to me? I have been under my mother’s care.”

It was nearly impossible to keep the distaste from her voice, but the camouflage must have worked, because the tension left him completely as he released his breath. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that word does not mean what you think it does.”