The Beast (Black Dagger Brotherhood 14)

“What’s that?” Marissa asked.

When Mary glanced at Rhage, he cleared his throat. “I eat people. I mean . . . the beast. You know. It eats things. That shouldn’t, you know, be eaten.”

“He’s never been a danger to me,” Mary interjected. “But we can’t pretend his dragon isn’t a factor in all this. Whoever makes the determination of fitness, whether it’s you or Wrath or someone else, needs to be fully aware that we come with a three-story-tall, purple-scaled, lesser-eating monster.”

Rhage raised his hand like he was in class and waiting to get called on. When they both just looked at him, he dropped his arm awkwardly. “Ah, he’s never actually consumed anything but lessers. Although I do think he tried to eat Vishous.” Her hellren winced. “Okay, fine, from what I heard, the other night he chased V and Assail into a cabin, which he might have taken the roof off of, and he mighta tried to eat them—but he did not succeed.”

“Thanks to me,” Mary pointed out.

“He listens to Mary. It. Does. I mean.” There was a pause. “Shit.”

Mary shrugged. “Anyway, we’re aware that we’re not the most conventional of prospective parents. But I will promise you . . . if we get the chance, we will love that little girl with everything we’ve got.”

“Ditto,” Rhage said. “Completely ditto.”

Marissa let out a soft laugh. “Annnnnnnnnnd this is exactly why I’m not worried about the two of you adopting anything or anyone, whether it’s a dog out of a shelter or a child from Safe Place.”

Mary exhaled in relief.

Meanwhile, Rhage took a page from Marissa’s book and started fanning himself. Then he braced one arm on the coffee table as if he were worried he was about to pass out. “Is it hot in here? I feel like it’s hot—I think I’m going to—”

Mary jumped up and raced for one of the French doors. As she popped it open, she said, “He gets a little light-headed sometimes. You know, when he’s relieved. Breathe with me, my love. Breathe with me.”

Marissa moved across and sat next to Rhage. As she picked up a throw pillow and started flapping it up and down next to that handsome, badly flushed face, she laughed.

“We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way, we’ll figure all this out, okay? And hopefully at the end, Bitty will get to come home with you both.”

As Mary grabbed another cushion and joined in the effort, she looked into the eyes of the Brother she loved . . . and tried to see the future in his features. “I hope so. God, I hope for that so much it hurts.”

FIFTY-ONE

“You want to know what?”

As V posed the perhaps understandable question, Assail switched his cell phone to his other ear and put his coffee mug into the dishwasher. The doggen he had hoped to interview this eve—so that his cousins would cease and desist all frozen meals—had had to reschedule. So that meant he remained Mr. Clean-up.

“Master Lock,” Assail explained. “I need to know how to release a Master Lock. And it has to be in such a fashion that the thing remains functional thereafter.”

The Brother laughed with a hard edge. “Yeah, my first piece of advice would be to shoot the bitch off—and that is not going to help if you want it to keep working. What exactly are you trying to get into?”

“A secret.”

“Sounds kinky. And how old are we talking? The lock, not the secret.”

“New.”

“Okay, yeah, I got something for you. Where are you—”

A subtle chime cut in, and Assail took the cell phone away from his ear. “Ah, yes, here she is. And I’m at home, Vishous.”

“I’ll be there in two mins. In your backyard.”

“I shall look forward to your audience.” Assail clicked over. “Hello, darling—”

Weeping. Naasha was weeping openly, and Assail knew the cause without the explanation.

“Whatever has happened,” he said as he walked over and opened his back door.

The chilly air irritated his nose, but he willed the sneezing away as all kinds of stuttering and snuffling came across the connection.

“He’s dead. My hellren . . . is dead.”

Of course he is, Assail thought. And I know why.

“I am so sorry, darling. What may I do for you in your mourning.”

The female sniffed a number of times. “Please come?”

“I shall. Give me ten minutes?”

“Thank you. I am heartbroken.”

No, you are his heir, he thought as he ended the call. And your lover is engineering all of this—and you are next in line for the coffin, dearest.

From out of the darkness, a huge form appeared upon the lawn, and Brother Vishous triggered the security lights as he walked forth unto the house.

“There’s been a death of some note,” Assail announced. “It appears as if Throe’s mistress’s hellren has passed.”

“Oh, really.”

“I am not paranoid yet, it appears. Accurate is more like it.” He met Vishous halfway across the lawn, and the pair clapped palms. “I knew that he was not long for this world. The question is how he passed—and I intend to find out.”

“There is a killer under that roof.”

“Indeed. And I shall let you know what I discover.”

“If you need back-up, we gotchu. And if you happen to find evidence of murder? I’ll be happy to put the ‘death’ in the sentence.” o;What’s that?” Marissa asked.

When Mary glanced at Rhage, he cleared his throat. “I eat people. I mean . . . the beast. You know. It eats things. That shouldn’t, you know, be eaten.”

“He’s never been a danger to me,” Mary interjected. “But we can’t pretend his dragon isn’t a factor in all this. Whoever makes the determination of fitness, whether it’s you or Wrath or someone else, needs to be fully aware that we come with a three-story-tall, purple-scaled, lesser-eating monster.”

Rhage raised his hand like he was in class and waiting to get called on. When they both just looked at him, he dropped his arm awkwardly. “Ah, he’s never actually consumed anything but lessers. Although I do think he tried to eat Vishous.” Her hellren winced. “Okay, fine, from what I heard, the other night he chased V and Assail into a cabin, which he might have taken the roof off of, and he mighta tried to eat them—but he did not succeed.”

“Thanks to me,” Mary pointed out.

“He listens to Mary. It. Does. I mean.” There was a pause. “Shit.”

Mary shrugged. “Anyway, we’re aware that we’re not the most conventional of prospective parents. But I will promise you . . . if we get the chance, we will love that little girl with everything we’ve got.”

“Ditto,” Rhage said. “Completely ditto.”

Marissa let out a soft laugh. “Annnnnnnnnnd this is exactly why I’m not worried about the two of you adopting anything or anyone, whether it’s a dog out of a shelter or a child from Safe Place.”

Mary exhaled in relief.

Meanwhile, Rhage took a page from Marissa’s book and started fanning himself. Then he braced one arm on the coffee table as if he were worried he was about to pass out. “Is it hot in here? I feel like it’s hot—I think I’m going to—”

Mary jumped up and raced for one of the French doors. As she popped it open, she said, “He gets a little light-headed sometimes. You know, when he’s relieved. Breathe with me, my love. Breathe with me.”

Marissa moved across and sat next to Rhage. As she picked up a throw pillow and started flapping it up and down next to that handsome, badly flushed face, she laughed.

“We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way, we’ll figure all this out, okay? And hopefully at the end, Bitty will get to come home with you both.”

As Mary grabbed another cushion and joined in the effort, she looked into the eyes of the Brother she loved . . . and tried to see the future in his features. “I hope so. God, I hope for that so much it hurts.”

FIFTY-ONE

“You want to know what?”

As V posed the perhaps understandable question, Assail switched his cell phone to his other ear and put his coffee mug into the dishwasher. The doggen he had hoped to interview this eve—so that his cousins would cease and desist all frozen meals—had had to reschedule. So that meant he remained Mr. Clean-up.

“Master Lock,” Assail explained. “I need to know how to release a Master Lock. And it has to be in such a fashion that the thing remains functional thereafter.”

The Brother laughed with a hard edge. “Yeah, my first piece of advice would be to shoot the bitch off—and that is not going to help if you want it to keep working. What exactly are you trying to get into?”

“A secret.”

“Sounds kinky. And how old are we talking? The lock, not the secret.”

“New.”

“Okay, yeah, I got something for you. Where are you—”

A subtle chime cut in, and Assail took the cell phone away from his ear. “Ah, yes, here she is. And I’m at home, Vishous.”

“I’ll be there in two mins. In your backyard.”

“I shall look forward to your audience.” Assail clicked over. “Hello, darling—”

Weeping. Naasha was weeping openly, and Assail knew the cause without the explanation.

“Whatever has happened,” he said as he walked over and opened his back door.

The chilly air irritated his nose, but he willed the sneezing away as all kinds of stuttering and snuffling came across the connection.

“He’s dead. My hellren . . . is dead.”

Of course he is, Assail thought. And I know why.

“I am so sorry, darling. What may I do for you in your mourning.”

The female sniffed a number of times. “Please come?”

“I shall. Give me ten minutes?”

“Thank you. I am heartbroken.”

No, you are his heir, he thought as he ended the call. And your lover is engineering all of this—and you are next in line for the coffin, dearest.

From out of the darkness, a huge form appeared upon the lawn, and Brother Vishous triggered the security lights as he walked forth unto the house.

“There’s been a death of some note,” Assail announced. “It appears as if Throe’s mistress’s hellren has passed.”

“Oh, really.”

“I am not paranoid yet, it appears. Accurate is more like it.” He met Vishous halfway across the lawn, and the pair clapped palms. “I knew that he was not long for this world. The question is how he passed—and I intend to find out.”

“There is a killer under that roof.”

“Indeed. And I shall let you know what I discover.”

“If you need back-up, we gotchu. And if you happen to find evidence of murder? I’ll be happy to put the ‘death’ in the sentence.”