Lover Eternal (Black Dagger Brotherhood 2)

Holy... house of Windsor.

Silk drapery hung from the windows in swaths of red and gold. Satin and velvet adorned a huge antique Jacobean bed, the posts of which must have been made out of whole oak trunks. There was an Aubusson rug on the floor, oil paintings on the walls -

Good lord, was that Madonna and Child really a Rubens?

But it wasn't all Sotheby's stuff. There was a plasma-screen TV, enough stereo equipment to carry off a Super Bowl half-time show, a NASA-worthy computer. And an Xbox on the floor.

She wandered over to the bookshelves, where leather-bound volumes in foreign languages stood straight and proud. She scanned the titles with appreciation until she ran into a collection of DVDs.

Oh, the humanity.

The Austin Powers boxed set. Aliens and Alien. Jaws. All three Naked Guns. Godzilla. Godzilla. Godzilla... wait, the rest of this whole shelf was Godzilla. She went one lower. Friday the 13th, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street. Well, at least he hadn't bothered with the sequels to those. Caddy-shack. The Evil Dead boxed set.

It was a wonder Rhage hadn't blinded himself with all that pop culture.

Mary went into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. A Jacuzzi the size of her living room was set into the marble floor.

Now that's a true thing of beauty, she thought.

She heard the door open and was relieved when Rhage called her name.

"I'm in here checking out your tub." She walked back to the bedroom. "What happened?"

"Everything's cool."

You sure about that? she wanted to ask. Because he was tense and preoccupied as he went into a walk-in closet.

"Don't worry, you can stay here."

"But... ?"

"No buts."

"Rhage, what's going on?"

"I need to go out with my brothers tonight." He came back without his suit coat on and led her over to the bed, pulling her down next to him as he sat. "The doggen, our servants, know you're here. They're incredibly loyal and friendly, nothing to be scared of. Fritz, who runs this house, will be bringing you up some food in a little bit. If you need anything, just ask him. I'll be back at dawn."

"Am I going to be locked in here until then?"

He shook his head and stood up.

"You're free to move around the house. No one will touch you." He took a piece of paper out of a leather box and wrote on it. "Here's my cell number. You call me if you need me and I can be back in a moment."

"You got a transporter hiding somewhere around here?"

Rhage looked at her and disappeared.

Not as in left-the-room-really-fast disappeared. But poof! disappeared.

Mary leaped off the bed, holding in a shout of alarm with her hand.

Rhage's arms came around her from behind. "In a moment."

She grabbed on to his wrists, squeezing the bones to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"That's a hell of trick." Her voice was thin. "What else do you have under your hat?"

"I can turn things on and off." The room plunged into darkness. "I can light candles." Two of them flared on his dresser. "And I'm handy with locks and stuff."

She heard the latch on the door click back and forth, and then the closet opened and shut.

"Oh, and I can do something really great with my tongue and a cherry stem."

He dropped a kiss on the side of her neck and headed into the bathroom. The door shut and she heard the shower come on.

Mary stayed frozen in place, her mind skipping like a needle on an LP record. Eyeing the DVD collection, she decided there was something to be said for escapism. Especially when a person had had too much weirdness, too many reorientations to reality, too much... everything.

When Rhage came out a while later, shaved, smelling of soap, a towel around his hips, she was propped up on the bed, Austin Powers Goldmember on the TV.

"Hey, this is a classic." He smiled and watched the screen.

She forgot all about the movie as she looked at those wide shoulders, the muscles of his arms, the towel following the form of his ass. And the tattoo. That twisting, fierce creature with the white eyes.

" 'Twins, Basil, twins,' " Rhage said with perfect timing and intonation.

He winked at her and went into the closet.

Against her better instincts, she followed after him, and leaned on one of the jambs, trying to look casual. Rhage's back was to her as he pulled on a pair of black leather pants, commando. The tattoo moved with him as he did up the fly.

A soft sigh escaped her mouth. What a man. Vampire. Whatever.

He glanced over his shoulder. "You okay?"

Actually, she was feeling hot all over.

"Mary?"

"I'm fine and dandy." Dropping her eyes, she took consuming interest in the collection of shoes lined up on the floor. "Actually I'm going to self-medicate with your movie collection until I'm in a culture coma."

As he bent down to put his socks on, her eyes latched back onto his skin. All that bare, smooth, golden -

"About the sleeping arrangements," he said. "I'll just crash on the floor."

But she wanted to be in that big bed with him, she thought.

"Don't be silly, Rhage. We're both adults. And that thing is wide enough to sleep six."

He hesitated. "All right. I promise not to snore."

And how about not keeping your hands to yourself, either?

He pulled on a black short-sleeved shirt and pushed his feet into a pair of shitkickers. Then he paused, eyeing a floor-to-ceiling metal cabinet that was set into the closet wall.

"Mary, why don't you go back outside? I need a minute. Okay?"

She flushed and turned away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy - "

He took her hand. "It's not that. You just might not like what you see next."

As if there was much left that could shock her after today?

"Go ahead," she murmured. "Do... whatever."

Rhage stroked her wrist with his thumb then opened the metal cabinet. He took out an empty black leather chest holster and put it on across his shoulders, securing it under his pecs. A wide belt was next, like the kind cops wore, but as with the holster, there was nothing in it.

He looked at her. And then brought out the weapons.

Two long, black-bladed daggers, which he sheathed at his chest, handles down. A shiny handgun that he checked for bullets with fast, sure movements before anchoring it at his hip. Flashing martial-arts stars and matte-black ammunition clips that he tucked into the belt. Another, smaller knife he hid somewhere.

He took his black leather trench coat off a hanger and swung it on, patting the pockets. He pulled out another handgun from the weapons cabinet and assessed it quickly before burying it in the leather folds. He put a few more throwing stars in the coat's pockets. Added another dagger.

When he faced her, she backed away.

"Mary, don't look at me like I'm a stranger. It's still me under, all this."

She didn't stop until she hit the bed. "You are a stranger," she whispered.

His face tightened and his voice grew flat. "I'll be back before dawn."

He left without any hesitation.

Mary didn't know how long she sat and stared at the carpet. But when she looked up, she went over and grabbed the phone.

Chapter Twenty-four

Bella popped open her oven, took a peek at dinner, and gave up the fight.

What a mess.

She grabbed a pair of pot holders and extracted the meat loaf. The poor thing had cowered away from the sides of the pan, blackened on top, and developed drying cracks. It was inedible, better suited to the construction supply trade than to a dinner plate. A few dozen more of these and some mortar and she'd have that wall she wanted around her terrace.

As she shut the oven door with her hip, she could have sworn the high-end Viking stove was glaring at her. The animosity was mutual. When her brother had done over the farmhouse for her, he'd gotten her the best of everything, because that was the only way Rehvenge did things. The fact that she'd preferred the old-fashioned kitchen and the squeaky doors and the gentle aging of the place hadn't mattered. And God help her if she'd kicked up a fuss about the security measures. The only way Rehvenge had permitted her to move out was if he made her home fireproof, bulletproof, and impregnable as a museum.

Ah, the joys of having a bossy brother with a lockdown mentality.

She picked up the pan and was headed for the French doors to the backyard when the phone rang.

As she answered, she hoped it wasn't Rehvenge. "Hello?"