Lover Arisen (Black Dagger Brotherhood 20)

“Anyway.” Shuli put his directional signal on. “It was phenomenal. Like I said, we did it three times, and the last one was up against the door as I was leaving.”

“I wouldn’t think that was possible.”

“Standing up is absolutely a position. A good one, too.”

“No, I don’t get how you were doing it as you were leaving—watch out for the deer.”

“Huh?” Shuli cursed as he swerved away from a doe at the side of the country road. “And don’t be pandemic.”

“Pedantic.”

“That, too.”

Fortunately, Shuli went quiet at that point, although the way he kept running his hand around the top curve of the steering wheel suggested he was in his mind where he’d been told his mouth couldn’t go.

Nate looked away from the stroking and stared out of his window. The landscape was all fields now, and as they passed by a rickety split-rail fence and then a stone wall, a kindling in his gut made him adjust himself in his seat. The closer they got to Luchas House, the more he fidgeted, and he supposed the one good thing about Shuli finally having sex for the first time was that the guy was too busy reliving his orgasmic glory to notice how itchy Nate was getting.

“At least we have tomorrow off,” Shuli announced.

“Do we?”

“It’s Saturday. And we’re going out, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Why hadn’t he just dematerialized out here on his own?

Well, he answered himself, because then it was way too obvious. If Shuli was wingman’ing it, he had some kind of cover.

Granted, it was cover of the ridden-hard-put-up-wet variety.

“And here we are,” Shuli said as he turned into the gravel drive.

Down at the end of the lane, a farmhouse with a wraparound porch had loads of lights on in its interior, and as the illumination spilled out onto the still-brown lawn, Nate decided that the place looked like a spaceship that had just landed, but come in peace. With a tree in the side yard and a meadow out behind, it was a really special spot—and not for the first time, he could see exactly what the Brother Qhuinn had loved at the setting.

Luchas House was named after the fighter’s brother, and was part of the race’s social services program, offering a haven for youth who needed shelter, resources, help. Unlike Safe Place, which was reserved for females and their young, males were allowed into the facility, both as residents and as guests. Which was a good thing for Nate.

With a desperation he didn’t want to admit to himself, his eyes shot to the second floor on the left. The windows of that particular bedroom were dark, and he had a moment of panic.

But surely if she had left… she would have said something?

Taking a deep breath, he brushed at the front of his SUNY Caldwell sweatshirt. There were some paint streaks on the bottom and he pulled the hem up and took a whiff. Great. Cologne by Benjamin Moore.

He had to take these opportunities when he could, though.

The second the Tesla stopped by the walkway to the front door, all Nate wanted to do was break out of the car and bull-rush the entry, knocking the barrier down so that he could race up the stairs and check to make sure she hadn’t—

“Listen,” Shuli said in his best I’m-two-months-older-than-you voice, “tomorrow night’s going to be good for you, and I’ll make sure it’s chill. We’ll go to this new place, Dandelion. You’ll love it, and you don’t have to stay forever if you don’t want. You can just have a drink and see what happens.”

“I don’t know.” Nate popped the door handle. “It’s not something I’m really interested in. Besides, I’m guessing you’re going to be busy getting busy.”

Shuli threw out a hand and caught Nate’s upper arm. “It’s way better than… you know.”

“Better than what?”

“Coming out here every chance you get.”

Nate froze for a second. He thought he’d been smoother than that, and if Shuli had noticed—as self-absorbed as the guy was—who else knew he was kind of stalking the house?

Pulling out of a tailspin, he said, “What are you talking about. I’ve been here twice since we finished working on the garage, including right now.”

“And those were the two chances you had.”

Nate took his arm back. “I just need to get my sweatshirt.”

“Oh, really? The one that’s exactly like what you have on? And is worth twenty bucks, tops? Look, I don’t care about what you pretense to the rest of the world, but between you and me, we should be honest.”

“Pretend,” Nate muttered as he got out of the car.

Caught up in a surge of nervous, he closed the passenger-side door and forgot about Shuli, the guy’s big, fat, hairy opinion, and all the clubs that were, or ever had been, in Caldwell. Striding up to the front door, he tugged at his paint-smudged sweatshirt, stamped his work boots to get any mud off of them—and would have run a hand through his dark hair if Shuli hadn’t been riding up on his ass.