"Why are you in my room again?" he asked, voice echoing around the porcelain rim.
"I, ah, I wanted to yell at you."
"Mind if I finish throwing up first?" Water rushed and gurgled as he flushed.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, this is just loads of fun."
She came into the bathroom and had a brief impression that it was very clean, very white, and totally impersonal.
In the blink of an eye, Zsadist was up on his feet and facing her.
She swallowed a gasp.
Though clearly powerful, his muscles stood out in stark relief, the individual fibers striated and visible. For a warrior, for any male, he was thin, too thin. Frankly he was close to starving. And he was scarred on the front, though only in two places; over his left pectoral and on his right shoulder. Both his ni**les were pierced, silver hoops with little balls catching the light as he breathed in and out.
But none of that was what stunned her. The thick black bands tattooed around his neck and wrists were the shocker.
"Why do you bear the markings of a blood slave?' she whispered.
"Do the math."
"But that's..."
"Not supposed to happen to someone like me?"
"Well, yes. You are a warrior. A noble."
"Fate is a cruel bitch."
Her heart opened wide for him, and everything she'd thought about him changed. He was no longer a thrill, but a male she wanted to ease. Comfort Hold. On impulse, she took a step toward him.
His black eyes narrowed. "You really don't want to come near me, female. Especially not now."
She didn't listen. As she closed the distance between them, he backed away until he got caught in the corner between the glass shower door and the wall.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She didn't answer, because she wasn't sure.
"Back off," he snapped. He opened his mouth, his fangs elongating to the size of a tiger's.
That gave her some pause. "But maybe I can - "
"Save me or some shit? Oh, right. In your fantasy, this is the part where I'm supposed to be transfixed by your eyes. Give my beastly self up into the arms of a virgin."
"I'm not a virgin."
"Well, good for you."
She reached out her hand, wanting to put it on his chest. Right over his heart.
He shrank from her, flattening himself against the marble. As sweat broke out all over him, he craned his neck away and his face squeezed into a wince. His chest pumped up and down, nipple rings flashing silver.
His voice thinned out until it was barely a sound. "Don't touch me. I can't... I can't stand to be touched, okay? It hurts."
Bella stopped.
"Why?" she said softly. "Why does it - "
"Just get the f**k out of here, please." He could barely get the words out. "I'm about to destroy something. And I don't want it to be you."
"You won't hurt me."
He closed his eyes. "Goddamn. What is it with you refined types? Are you bred to get off on torturing people?'
"Good lord, no. I just want to help you."
"Liar," he spat, eyes popping open. "You're such a liar. You don't want to help me, you want to poke the rattlesnake with a stick just to see what it does."
"That's not true. At least... not now."
His gaze went cold, soulless. And his voice lost all intonation. "You want me? Fine. You can f**king have me."
Zsadist lunged at her. He took her down to the floor, rolled her over onto her stomach, and dragged her hands behind her back. The marble was cold against her face as his knees jack-knifed her legs apart. There was a ripping sound. Her thong.
She went numb. Her thoughts couldn't keep up with the pace of his actions, and neither could her emotions. But her body knew what it wanted. Angry or not, she would take him in.
The weight of him left her briefly, and she heard the sound of a zipper. Then he was lying on her with nothing between his tremendous erection and her core. But he didn't thrust. He just panted as he froze in place, his breath a loud rush in her ear, so loud... Was he sobbing?
His head dropped down onto her nape. Then he rolled off her, covering her up as he left her body. Lying on his back, he put his arms across his face.
"Oh, God," he moaned, "... Bella."
She wanted to reach out to him, but he was so tense she didn't dare. With an uneasy lurch she got to her feet and stared down at him. Zsadist's pants were around his thighs, his sex no longer erect.
Jesus, his body was in rough shape. His stomach was hollow. His hip bones jutted out of his skin. He must indeed only drink from humans, she thought. And not eat much at all.
She focused on the tattooed bands covering his wrist and neck. And the scars.
Ruined. Not broken.
Although she was ashamed to admit it now, the darkness in him had been the largest part of his allure. It was such an anomaly, a contrast to what she'd known from life. It had made him dangerous. Exciting. Sexy. But that was a fantasy. This was real.
He suffered. And there was nothing sexy or thrilling about that.
She picked up a towel and went over to him, laying it gently across his exposed flesh. He jumped and then clutched it to himself. As he looked up at her, the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, but he wasn't crying. Maybe she'd been mistaken about the sobbing.
"Please... leave me," he said.
"I wish - "
"Go. Now. No wishing, no hoping. No nothing. Just leave. And don't ever come near me again. Swear it. Swear it."
"I... I promise."
Bella hurried out through his bedroom. When she was down the hall far enough, she paused and finger-combed her hair, trying to smooth it down. She could feel the thong up around her waist and left it there. She had no place to put the thing if she took it off.
Downstairs the party was still in full swing, and she felt out of place, drained. She went over to Mary, said her goodbyes, and looked around for a doggen to take her home.
But then Zsadist came into the room. He'd changed into white nylon workout clothes and had a black bag in his hand. Without looking at her at all, he walked up behind Phury, who was a couple feet away.
When Phury turned around and saw the bag, he recoiled.
"No, Z. I don't want - "
"Either you do it, brother, or I'll find someone else who will."
Zsadist held out the bag.
Phury stared at it. When he took the thing, his hand shook.
The two of them left together.
Chapter Forty-one
Mary put the empty platter down next to the sink and handed Rhage a tray so they could gather empties together. Now that the party was over, everyone was helping clean up.
As they went out into the foyer, she said, "I'm so glad Wellsie and Tohr have taken John in. And I would have loved to see him tonight, but I'm happy to know he's in good hands."
"Tohr told me the poor kid can't get out of bed, he's so exhausted. All he's been doing is sleeping and eating. Hey, by the way, I think you're right. Phury kind of digs Bella. He spent a lot of time looking her over. I've never seen him do that before."
"But after what you said about - "
As they passed the grand staircase, a hidden door underneath it opened.
Zsadist came out. His face was battered, his workout shirt shredded. There was blood on him.
"Oh, shit," Rhage muttered.
The brother passed them, glassy black eyes not tracking. His small smile of satisfaction seemed totally out of context, like he'd had a good meal or maybe some sex instead of getting the holy hell beaten out of him. He went upstairs slowly, one leg not bending right.
"I had better go clean up Phury." Rhage gave the tray to Mary and kissed her lightly. "I might be a while."
"Why would Phury... Oh... God."
"Only because he was forced to. That's the only reason, Mary."
"Well... take as long as you need."
But before he reached the passageway, Phury came out wearing exercise gear. He looked as spent as Zsadist was, except he didn't have a mark on him. No, that wasn't right. His knuckles were bruised and cracked. And there were smudges of blood on his chest.
"Hey, man," Rhage said.
Phury looked around and seemed startled to find himself where he was.
Rhage stepped in front of him. "My brother?"
Shell-shocked eyes focused. "Hey."
"You want to go upstairs? Hang out a little?"
"Oh, yeah, no. I'm fine." His eyes skipped to Mary. Glanced away. "I, ah, I'm fine. Yeah. Really. Party's ended, I guess?"