Lover Unbound (Black Dagger Brotherhood 5)

"If it would not offend," he called out. "The second favor?"

She paused at the little portal. Without facing him, she said, "I renounce you as my son. You are free of me and I of you. Live well, warrior."

She went through the door and closed him out, the panel shutting firmly, then locking. In her wake the birds fell silent, as if her presence was what charmed them into song.

V stood in the courtyard and listened to the fountain's quiet, chiming waterfall.

He'd had a mother for all of six days.

He couldn't say he missed her. Or that he was grateful to her for giving him his life back. After all, she was the one who'd tried to take everything away from him.

As he dematerialized back to the mansion to report in, it dawned on him that even if his mother had said no, he still would have picked Jane over the Scribe Virgin. No matter what it cost him.

And the Scribe Virgin had known that all along, hadn't she. Which was why she'd forsaken him.

Whatever. All he really cared about was getting to Jane. Things were looking up, but he was so not out of the woods yet. She could, after all, still say no. She could very well choose the life she knew over a dangerous half existence with a vampire.

Damn it, though, he wanted her to pick him.

V was taking shape in his bedroom and thinking of the way it had been with Jane the night before... when it dawned on him he'd done an unforgivable: He'd finished inside of her. Goddamn it. He'd been so in his head, the forgotten that he'd left some of himself behind. She must be going mad by now.

He was such a bastard. A thoughtless, selfish bastard.

And he actually thought he had something to offer her?

Chapter Forty

As night fell, Phury pulled on the white silks for the Primale ceremony. He didn't feel them on his skin, and not because they were made of such delicate cloth. He'd been smoking blunts for the last two hours straight, so he was pretty well numbed-out.

Though not so faced that when the knock came on his door, he didn't know exactly who it was.

"Come in," he said, without turning away from the mirror over his dresser. "And what are you doing out of bed?"

Bella let out a laugh. Or maybe it was a sob. "One hour a day, remember. I have fifty-two minutes left."

He picked up the gold Primale medallion and put it around his neck. The weight of it settled onto his chest like someone had a palm between his pecs and was leaning into him. Hard.

"Are you sure about this?" she said softly.

"Yes."

"I guess Z's going with you?"

"He's my witness." Phury stabbed out his hand-rolled. Picked up another. Lit it.

"When will you be back?"

He shook his head as he exhaled. "The Primale lives on the Other Side."

"Vishous wasn't going to."

"Special arrangement. I'll still fight, but I want to stay over there."

As she gasped, he stared at his reflection in the mirror's antique glass. His hair was damp and tangled at the ends, so he grabbed a brush and started yanking it through.

"Phury, what are you... You can't go to the ceremony bald - Stop. God, you're ripping your hair out." She came up behind him, took the brush from his hand, and pointed to the chaise next to the window. "Sit. Let me do it."

"No, thanks. I can - "

"You're too hard on yourself. Go on now." She gave him a little shove to the left. "Let me do it."

For no good reason, and a lot of bad ones, he went over and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest and bracing himself. Bella started at the bottom of his mane, the brush clipping the ends first, then working its way up until he felt it come down on the crown of his head and slowly, get drawn all the way out. Her free palm followed the strokes, smoothing, soothing. The sound of the bristles going through his hair and the tug on his forehead and her scent in his nose were bittersweet pleasures that left him defenseless.

Tears matted his lashes. It seemed so cruel to have met her, to see what he wanted but never be able to have it. Although that was fitting, wasn't it. He'd always lived his life with things out of his reach. First he'd spent decades searching for his twin, sensing that Zsadist was alive in the world but being unable to rescue him. Then he'd freed his brother, only to find that the male was still far from in hand. The century that had followed their escape from Z's Mistress had been a different kind of hell, with him always waiting for Z to lose it, interceding when the brother did, and worrying when the next round of drama would get started.

Then Bella had come and they'd both fallen in love with her.

Bella was the old torture in a new guise, wasn't she. Because his was a destiny of yearning, of being outside looking in, of seeing the fire but not being able to get close enough to it to be warmed by it.

"Will you ever be back?" she asked.

"I don't know."

The brush paused. "Maybe you'll like her."

"Maybe. Don't stop yet. Please... not yet."

Phury rubbed his eyes as the brush resumed its strokes. This quiet time was their good-bye, and she knew it. She was crying too. He could smell the fresh, rainy tang in the air.

Except she didn't cry for the same reason he did. She cried because she pitied him and his future, not because she loved him and her heart was breaking at the thought that she would never, ever see him again. She would miss him, yes. Worry about him, sure. But she wouldn't yearn for him. She never had.

And all this should have snapped his chain and gotten him to cut out the pansy-ass routine, but he couldn't. He was submerged by his sadness.

He would, of course, see Zsadist on the Other Side. But her... he couldn't imagine her coming over to see him. And it wouldn't really be appropriate, as he'd be the Primale, and it wouldn't look right if he took private audiences with a female from the outside - even if she was his twin's shellan. Monogamy to his Chosen in deed, thought, and appearance was the Primale's pledge.

Then it dawned on him. The baby. He would never get to see her and Z's young. Except maybe in pictures.

The brush tucked under his hair and ran up his nape. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the rhythmic pull and release on his head.

"I want you to fall in love," she said.

I am in love. "It's all right."

She stopped and stepped in front of him. "I want you to love someone for real. Not like you think you love me."

He frowned. "No offense. But you can't know what I - "

"Phury, you don't really love - "

He stood up and met her in the eye. "Please pay me the respect of not assuming to know my emotions better than I do."

"You've never been with a female."

"I was last night."

That shut her up for a moment. Then she said, "Not at the club. Please, not at - "

"In a bathroom in the back. It was good, too. Then again, she was a professional." Okay, now he was being an ass**le.

"Phury... no."

"May I have my brush back? I think my hair's good now."

"Phury - "

"The brush. Please."

After a moment that was long as a century, she extended the thing toward him. When he reached out and took it, they were linked by the wooden handle for a mere breath, then she dropped her hand.

"You deserve better than that," she whispered. "You're better than that."

"No, I'm not." Oh, man, he had to get away from her heartbroken expression. "Don't let your pity turn me into a prince, Bella."

"This is self-destructive. All of it."

"Hardly." He went over to the bureau, picked up his blunt, and took a drag on it. "I want this."

"Do you? Is that why you've been lighting up red smokes all afternoon? The whole mansion smells of it."

"I smoke because I'm an addict. I'm a loose-willed drug addict, Bella, who was with a whore last night in a public place. You should condemn me, not pity me."

She shook her head. "Don't try to make yourself look ugly in front of me. It won't work. You are a male of worth - "

"For f**k's sake - "

" - who has sacrificed much for his brothers. Probably too much."

"Bella, stop it."

"A male who gave up his leg to save his twin. Who has fought bravely for his race. Who is giving up his future for his brother's happiness. You can't get much more noble than that." Her eyes were rock-solid as she stared up at him. "Don't tell me who you are. I see you more clearly than you see yourself."