The Savior (Black Dagger Brotherhood 17)

He was very protective of his position of superiority.

Well, that was going to change. And she was also going to teach him a lesson in what it was like to be out of control.

Using her symphath side, she set the man upon a path that was going to make him insane, and as she worked, she thanked the higher powers for the opportunity to ruin him. She had never expected to run into the guy, and this was such a bonus to getting that young free.

After she was done, she erased his memories of the infiltration, the hostage taking and the rescue, making sure that he would have no recollection of any of this. Then she nodded to John and he let go of the human, shoving him in the direction of the door to the stairwell. They both watched him stumble and then start pounding on the door.

No doubt the first time he had been locked out of his own business.

“You ready to go?” she asked her mate.

John’s hands were quick to sign, Tell me you did enough.

“More than enough.” She leaned into him and kissed him on the mouth, lingering with the contact. “Thank you for coming with me. And for believing me when it comes to Murhder. We have a shared history, but not a shared future. It’s you who I love like that. No one else.”

The small, secret smile she was used to seeing appeared on his face. It was his special one. The expression that he never gave anybody but her. It was how he said “I love you” without using his hands.

Abruptly, she felt a relief and gratitude so enormous, she had to blink quick. “Let’s go.”

One after the other, they dematerialized, leaving the loading dock through the tiny gaps in the garage door’s slats. They re-formed on the perimeter of the lab property, in the snow field on the far side of the high concrete wall. No alarms. No signs that the infiltration had been noted or responded to. There might be some confusion for the security folks when they saw the video feeds, but with any luck, Murhder’s guard took care of all that.

John tapped her on the arm. Are you sure you’re okay leaving like this?

As Xhex exhaled, her breath left her in a white cloud. It was impossible not to measure this departure against her previous, toast-your-marshmallows-and-then-some one. And the truth was, she was never going to be perfectly okay with any of it. Not what her bloodline had done to her or to Murhder. Certainly not what had been done to her body at the hands of that human she’d just scrambled the brains of.

But burning this lab down and slaughtering a bunch of innocent humans working security detail was not going to bring her any greater measure of peace.

Besides, she had taken care of things when it came to the drug company. Kraiten had a special project he was going to work on over the next couple of days.

“Yes, I’m all right.”

She turned and faced her mate. As a cold breeze ripped by, like it had discovered a zip code that wasn’t frigid AF and was determined to take care of that oversight, John’s hair ruffled on one side.

As she reached up to smooth things, he captured her gloved hand and kissed the center of her palm.

She thought of him meeting Murhder—and the seizure he’d had. Then she thought of what she knew, but had not told him, about his emotional grid. And of the scar on his pectoral, the one that he said he had been born with.

John whistled in an ascending sound, his way of asking what was up.

Xhex glanced over to the lab’s wall and wondered if they shouldn’t get moving. But what did it matter. If any humans came after them, they could just dematerialize away.

Or kill the bastards.

It was more than time for her to say this, and why not here? “John … you belong in the Brotherhood. And not just because you’re a good fighter.”

He frowned. And then shrugged.

“I know, it’s not your decision or choice. But … you recognized Murhder, didn’t you.” Yes, that was a leading question. “In your heart, you know him. You know all of the Brotherhood. Have you ever asked yourself why that is?”

John shrugged again and let go of her hand. It just is the way it is. I get along with them.

“It’s more than that. And you’ve sensed this.”

Her beloved mate had a total anomaly when it came to his emotional grid. In fact, she’d never seen anything like it before. The structure of his emotions and sense of self were perfectly normal, the norths and souths, easts and wests of his feelings in an orientation that was exactly as it should be. What was not? The fact that there was a shadow grid directly under his own, an echo of his pattern that precisely reflected whatever he was feeling, like she were seeing double. She had often wondered if maybe he’d had a twin who had died … but there was no way of knowing that because the details of his birth and the whereabouts of his mahmen were unknown.

And more to the point, she would have seen this construct before if it were associated with twins.

There was only one other explanation, and even considering it made her feel like she was going Conjuring on the situation.

It wasn’t like the ghost of a deceased Brother had taken up residence inside of him—and manifested that star-shaped scar on his pectoral.

That just was nuts.

I’m not sure what you’re talking about, John signed. But I really hope someday that …

You already are a Brother, she thought to herself.

She kept that to herself because the yearning in his face broke her heart—and made her angry at the Brotherhood. Why couldn’t those males just do the right thing? And not, like, fifty years from now or some shit. John was a helluva fighter. He deserved the recognition and the honor.

“Come on, let’s head to the safe house,” she said. “It’s cold out here.”

As Kraiten’s SUV slowed and the commando behind the wheel turned them in to a driveway, Sarah frowned out of the side window in back. They were about an hour outside of Ithaca, to the north, and the fact that she hadn’t been in the area before wasn’t a news flash. It wasn’t like she and Gerry had traveled a lot upstate.

Scratch the driveway part. This was more like a lane, the curving, plowed passage winding its way through snow-draped evergreens that crowded up close.

Some two or three hundred yards in, the definition of cozy made its postcard’d appearance, the brick house and its smoke-curled chimneys like someone had made a model for a Christmas ad.

Sarah looked down into her lap as the SUV stopped at the front walkway. The boy had tucked in and fallen asleep, his head a warm weight on her leg, his arms crossed, his hands folded under his chin. She had been tempted to offer him the hazmat suit as a blanket, but the heat was up high, and he’d been out like a light almost as soon as they’d hit the highway.

The fact that she was sublimely uncomfortable because her backpack was still on under the protective gear and the leg he was using as a pillow had gone numb didn’t matter in the slightest. All she cared about was that the child got some rest.

She was worried he had a fever. His skin felt hot.

“He’s sleeping hard,” the commando said softly.

She glanced at the driver. He had twisted around and was staring down at the child with a sadness that made her worry about what he was going to have to tell the boy. She wanted to ask if the mother was indeed dead, but she already knew the answer, and she didn’t want that conversation to be what woke the boy up. s very protective of his position of superiority.

Well, that was going to change. And she was also going to teach him a lesson in what it was like to be out of control.

Using her symphath side, she set the man upon a path that was going to make him insane, and as she worked, she thanked the higher powers for the opportunity to ruin him. She had never expected to run into the guy, and this was such a bonus to getting that young free.

After she was done, she erased his memories of the infiltration, the hostage taking and the rescue, making sure that he would have no recollection of any of this. Then she nodded to John and he let go of the human, shoving him in the direction of the door to the stairwell. They both watched him stumble and then start pounding on the door.

No doubt the first time he had been locked out of his own business.

“You ready to go?” she asked her mate.

John’s hands were quick to sign, Tell me you did enough.

“More than enough.” She leaned into him and kissed him on the mouth, lingering with the contact. “Thank you for coming with me. And for believing me when it comes to Murhder. We have a shared history, but not a shared future. It’s you who I love like that. No one else.”

The small, secret smile she was used to seeing appeared on his face. It was his special one. The expression that he never gave anybody but her. It was how he said “I love you” without using his hands.

Abruptly, she felt a relief and gratitude so enormous, she had to blink quick. “Let’s go.”

One after the other, they dematerialized, leaving the loading dock through the tiny gaps in the garage door’s slats. They re-formed on the perimeter of the lab property, in the snow field on the far side of the high concrete wall. No alarms. No signs that the infiltration had been noted or responded to. There might be some confusion for the security folks when they saw the video feeds, but with any luck, Murhder’s guard took care of all that.

John tapped her on the arm. Are you sure you’re okay leaving like this?

As Xhex exhaled, her breath left her in a white cloud. It was impossible not to measure this departure against her previous, toast-your-marshmallows-and-then-some one. And the truth was, she was never going to be perfectly okay with any of it. Not what her bloodline had done to her or to Murhder. Certainly not what had been done to her body at the hands of that human she’d just scrambled the brains of.

But burning this lab down and slaughtering a bunch of innocent humans working security detail was not going to bring her any greater measure of peace.

Besides, she had taken care of things when it came to the drug company. Kraiten had a special project he was going to work on over the next couple of days.

“Yes, I’m all right.”

She turned and faced her mate. As a cold breeze ripped by, like it had discovered a zip code that wasn’t frigid AF and was determined to take care of that oversight, John’s hair ruffled on one side.

As she reached up to smooth things, he captured her gloved hand and kissed the center of her palm.

She thought of him meeting Murhder—and the seizure he’d had. Then she thought of what she knew, but had not told him, about his emotional grid. And of the scar on his pectoral, the one that he said he had been born with.

John whistled in an ascending sound, his way of asking what was up.

Xhex glanced over to the lab’s wall and wondered if they shouldn’t get moving. But what did it matter. If any humans came after them, they could just dematerialize away.

Or kill the bastards.

It was more than time for her to say this, and why not here? “John … you belong in the Brotherhood. And not just because you’re a good fighter.”

He frowned. And then shrugged.

“I know, it’s not your decision or choice. But … you recognized Murhder, didn’t you.” Yes, that was a leading question. “In your heart, you know him. You know all of the Brotherhood. Have you ever asked yourself why that is?”

John shrugged again and let go of her hand. It just is the way it is. I get along with them.

“It’s more than that. And you’ve sensed this.”

Her beloved mate had a total anomaly when it came to his emotional grid. In fact, she’d never seen anything like it before. The structure of his emotions and sense of self were perfectly normal, the norths and souths, easts and wests of his feelings in an orientation that was exactly as it should be. What was not? The fact that there was a shadow grid directly under his own, an echo of his pattern that precisely reflected whatever he was feeling, like she were seeing double. She had often wondered if maybe he’d had a twin who had died … but there was no way of knowing that because the details of his birth and the whereabouts of his mahmen were unknown.

And more to the point, she would have seen this construct before if it were associated with twins.

There was only one other explanation, and even considering it made her feel like she was going Conjuring on the situation.

It wasn’t like the ghost of a deceased Brother had taken up residence inside of him—and manifested that star-shaped scar on his pectoral.

That just was nuts.

I’m not sure what you’re talking about, John signed. But I really hope someday that …

You already are a Brother, she thought to herself.

She kept that to herself because the yearning in his face broke her heart—and made her angry at the Brotherhood. Why couldn’t those males just do the right thing? And not, like, fifty years from now or some shit. John was a helluva fighter. He deserved the recognition and the honor.

“Come on, let’s head to the safe house,” she said. “It’s cold out here.”

As Kraiten’s SUV slowed and the commando behind the wheel turned them in to a driveway, Sarah frowned out of the side window in back. They were about an hour outside of Ithaca, to the north, and the fact that she hadn’t been in the area before wasn’t a news flash. It wasn’t like she and Gerry had traveled a lot upstate.

Scratch the driveway part. This was more like a lane, the curving, plowed passage winding its way through snow-draped evergreens that crowded up close.

Some two or three hundred yards in, the definition of cozy made its postcard’d appearance, the brick house and its smoke-curled chimneys like someone had made a model for a Christmas ad.

Sarah looked down into her lap as the SUV stopped at the front walkway. The boy had tucked in and fallen asleep, his head a warm weight on her leg, his arms crossed, his hands folded under his chin. She had been tempted to offer him the hazmat suit as a blanket, but the heat was up high, and he’d been out like a light almost as soon as they’d hit the highway.

The fact that she was sublimely uncomfortable because her backpack was still on under the protective gear and the leg he was using as a pillow had gone numb didn’t matter in the slightest. All she cared about was that the child got some rest.

She was worried he had a fever. His skin felt hot.

“He’s sleeping hard,” the commando said softly.

She glanced at the driver. He had twisted around and was staring down at the child with a sadness that made her worry about what he was going to have to tell the boy. She wanted to ask if the mother was indeed dead, but she already knew the answer, and she didn’t want that conversation to be what woke the boy up.