The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 1) - Page 50
The other male glanced down the hallway. Then he looked across to the bed once more. After a long, slow inhale, he nodded.
“There is no evidence of your arousal. If that is what you seek for me to attest.”
“Yes. And I may need you to share this impotence with others, should the need arise.”
“But of course.” The Jackal laughed softly. “A honey trap averted, then.”
“Poor little female. She has been thrown into depths in which to drown thanks to that mahmen of hers.”
“Assets are to be used by the glymera in whatever form they come, be they houses, horses, or daughters. It is their most reliable trait, other than censure.”
“Are you not one among them, though? Your accent belies your status. As do your clothes, and the fact that Jabon has welcomed you herein.”
“That male does cultivate quite a crowd of swells, doesn’t he. And as for the mahmen of your half-clothed visitor? She is well-connected unto our host. She has been here before many a time and she does not sleep alone, if you understand my inference.”
Rhage had to smile. He could respect anyone who wished to keep their own details private.
Not that such reticence would prevent him from inquiry.
“You have been here very much often yourself or you would not know this.”
“The mahmen took pains to tell me how often she stayed. However, I learned from another that she is rather hard on her luck, I’m afraid. Hellren passed unexpectedly with gambling debts. I believe she sees the comely nature of that daughter as a lifeboat for the both of them. Jabon accommodates them with some regularity on account of certain . . . preferences, shall we say . . . lavished upon him by the mahmen. I think she will be ultimately disappointed in him, though. However generous he is with his guest bedrooms, I gather he is tightfisted when it comes to cash dispersals.”
“How convoluted it all is.”
“Not really.”
Rhage thought of the daughter. “The sad thing is . . . I cannot recall even her hair color. Nor that of her eyes.”
“She is fair of both. And rather attractive.”
“Ah.” Rhage cocked an eyebrow. “What of you, then? Perhaps you could avail yourself of the opportunity.”
“Never.”
As Rhage just continued to stare across the room, the Jackal once more glanced behind himself to the empty hallway. “Is there something awry?”
“Nothing awry.” Rhage smiled anew. “But I do feel compelled to comment on something.”
“I believe you’ve covered the young female and her first-blooded relation nicely.”
“There are two kinds of people who keep things from others—”
“Well, I must continue on to my own room—”
“Those who have something to hide and those who wish to hide how little they possess.” When the male went to turn away, Rhage put some real volume into his voice. “I want you to know that in either case, I do not judge.”
The Jackal stopped and lowered his brows. “You do not know anything about me.”
“I am not so certain about that. I recognized you the first moment I saw you.”
“Our paths have never crossed.”
“I know you from somewhere and you had the same feeling. I saw your expression when first we met.” Rhage wagged his forefinger back and forth. “And nothing you say or do will change my mind—”
“I hail from the South. I was born there and was raised there. I told you Jabon’s sire aided me when I was first orphaned, and so of course, I have stayed in contact with the son. That is all, I am afraid. So uninteresting.”
“Your parents are from the South, then.” As the male closed his mouth with a clap, Rhage winked. “Careful there, your impervious wall of secrecy has a small crumble in it.”
“I have divulged nothing. You know nothing.”
“My dear fellow, even if you revealed all, I would still know nothing. Do not underestimate my capacity for silence.”
“It’s more your inquiries I have difficulties with.”
They stared across at each other for a moment. And then Rhage was entirely unsurprised when the male bowed in respect and took his leave.
The door shut silently in the Jackal’s wake, the room going dark.
As Rhage closed his eyes, he tried to get comfortable in the perfectly soft bed against the perfectly soft pillows. Out in the street, on the other side of the thick drapes and the interior black-out shutters that covered the glass windows, he heard the activity of the daylight hours begin to come forth, the sun calling the humans onto the road the grand house sat upon. Horses clopping. Carriages creaking. A motor carriage now. Soon there would be people.
Busy, busy. The humans always so busy—
The door to the guest room opened once again, and Rhage did not bother to lift his head. “I am dead. Leave me thus—”
A soft voice, but this time not female. “I am not supposed to be here.”
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