Lover Unbound (Black Dagger Brotherhood 5)

The bastard.

Vishous was about to turn away when he got a vision so crisp and clear that it was like it had been before his premonitions had dried up.

Actually, it wasn't a vision. It was one word. That made no sense whatsoever.

Brother.

Weird.

V scrubbed the doctor good and clean and dematerialized.

Manny Manello put his elbows on his desk, rubbed his temples, and groaned. The pain in his head had its own heartbeat, and his skull seemed to have turned into an echo chamber. Just as bad, his brain's radio dial was spinning. Random thoughts bounced all around, a tossed salad of little importance: He had to take his car in for service, he needed to finish going through those residency applications, he was out of Sam Adams, his Monday-night b-ball game had been switched to Wednesday.

Funny, if he looked beyond the swarm of nothing special, he had the sense that all the activity was... hiding something.

For no particular reason he had an image of the mauve crocheted throw blanket that hung on the back of his mother's mauve couch in his mother's mauve living room. The damn thing was never used for warmth, and God help you if you tried to pull it off. The thing's sole purpose was to hide a stain from when his father had spilled a plate of Franco-American spaghetti all over the place. After all, there was only so far you could go with a spray bottle of Resolve, and that canned shit had red dye number five in it. Which was so not a look on a mauve canvas.

Just like that blanket, his scattered thoughts were obstructing some kind of stain in his brain, although damned if he knew what it was.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his Breitling. Past two A.M.

Time to go home.

As he packed up, the sense that he'd spaced on something important, and he kept looking at the left-hand corner of his desk. There was a paperless stretch there, the grained wood showing through in what was otherwise a snowbank of work.

The empty space was the size of a file folder.

Something had been taken from there. He knew it. He just couldn't figure out what, and the harder he tried the more his head pounded.

He walked over to the door.

On the way past his private bathroom, he popped in, found his trusty bottle of five-hundred-count Motrin and took two.

He really needed a vacation.

Chapter Forty-four

Maybe this wasn't the best idea, Phury thought as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom next to his at the Brotherhood's mansion. At least the household was otherwise occupied, so he hadn't had to deal with anyone yet. But man, things were looking rocky.

Crap.

Across the way, Cormia sat on the edge of the bed, that drape clutched at her br**sts, her eyes like two marbles in a big glass jar. She was so rattled, he wanted to take her back to the Other Side, but what waited for her there was no better. He didn't want her to face the Directrix's firing squad.

Wasn't going to stand for that shit.

"If there's anything you need, I'm just next door." He leaned out and pointed to the left. "I figure you can stay here for a day or so and get some rest. Have a little time to yourself. Sound good?"

She nodded, her blond hair falling over her shoulder.

For no particular reason he noticed it was a nice color, especially in the dim light of the bedside lamp. It reminded him of polished pine, a rich, shiny yellow.

"Would you like anything to eat?" he asked. When she shook her head, he went over to the phone and put his hand on it. "If you do get hungry, just dial star-four and it'll get you the kitchen. Anything you want, they'll bring to you."

Her eyes glanced over, then returned to him.

"You're safe here, Cormia. Nothing bad can happen to you - "

"Phury? You're back?" From the doorway, Bella's voice was a combination of surprise and relief.

His heart stopped. Busted. And by the person he most dreaded explaining this whole thing to. She was worse than Wrath, for God's sake.

He gathered himself before he could look at her. "Yeah, I'm back for a little while."

"I thought you were - Oh, hello." Bella's eyes whipped up to his before she smiled at Cormia. "Ah, my name's Bella. And you are... ?"

When there was no reply, Phury said, "This is Cormia. She's the Chosen who I... mated. Cormia, this is Bella."

Cormia stood and bowed down low, her hair nearly brushing the floor. "Your grace."

Bella's hand went to her lower belly. "Cormia, it's so nice to meet you. And please, we're not formal in this house."

Cormia straightened and nodded once.

Then there was a stretch of silence as wide as a six-lane highway.

Phury cleared his throat. Well, if this wasn't awkward.

As Cormia stared at the other female, she knew the full story without hearing another word. So that was why the Primale did not mate. This was the female that he really wanted: His need was in the way his eyes locked and held upon her form, the way his voice deepened, the way his body heated.

And she was pregnant. Cormia shifted her eyes over to the Primale. Pregnant but not with his young. His expression as he stared across the room was one of yearning, not ownership.

Ah, yes. So this was why he'd stepped in when the Bloodletter's son had had a change of circumstance. The Primale wanted to separate himself from this female because he wanted her and couldn't have her.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another while staring across the room. Then he smiled a little. "How many minutes do you have left?"

The female... Bella... smiled back. "Eleven."

"Helluva trip down the hall of statues. You might want to get started."

"It's not going to take me that long."

The two held eyes. Affection and sadness made hers luminous. And the slight blush on his cheeks suggested he found what he was looking upon beyond lovely.

Cormia pulled the edge of the drape closer to her chin, covering her neck.

"How about I take you back to your room?" Phury said, walking over and offering her his arm. "I want to see Z anyway."

The female rolled her eyes. "You're just using that as an excuse to get me into bed."

Cormia winced as the Primale laughed and murmured, "Yeah, pretty much. How's it working?"

The female chuckled and put her hand in the crook of his elbow. In a slightly hoarse voice she said, "It's working really well. As usual with you... it's working really well. I'm so glad you're here for... however long you are."

That blush on his cheeks got a little brighter. Then he glanced at Cormia. "I'll go drop her off, then I'll be in my room if you need anything, okay?"

Cormia nodded and watched the door close behind the two of them.

Left on her own, she sat down on the bed again.

Dear Virgin... She felt tiny. Tiny on the big mattress. Tiny in the vast room. Tiny against the looming impact of all the colors and the textures around her.

Which was what she'd wanted, wasn't it. During the viewing ceremony it was exactly as she'd wished it to be.

Except invisible was not the balm she'd assumed.

Looking around the room she was unable to comprehend where she was, and she missed her small, white, womblike space on the Other Side.

When they'd come over from the beyond, they'd taken form in the bedchamber next door, the one that he'd said was his. Her first thought had been that she'd loved the way it had smelled. Slightly smoky, with that dark, spicy scent she recognized as his own. Her next was that the crush of color and texture and form was overwhelming.

And that was before he'd walked her out into the hall and she'd been completely overcome. For truth, he lived in a palace, its foyer as big as the larger temples on the Other Side. The ceiling was high as the heavens, its paintings of warriors in battle bright as the gems her eyes had worshiped. When she'd put her hands on the balcony's rail and leaned over, the drop to the mosaic floor below was dizzying, thrilling.

She'd been astounded as he'd led her into the room she was in now.

She did not feel that awe anymore. Now she was in shock from sensory overload. The air was odd on this side, full of foreign smells, and it was dry in her nose. It also moved constantly. Here there were currents that brushed against her face and her hair and the curtain she had wrapped around herself.

She glanced toward the door. There were strange sounds here, too. The mansion around her creaked, and she could hear voices on occasion.

Huddling closer into herself, she tucked her feet under her and looked to the fancy table to the right of the bed. She wasn't hungry, but wouldn't know what to ask to eat if she were. And she had no idea how to use that object he'd called a phone, either.