Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood 7)

Blay looked away sharply, taking an abrupt, feigned interest in a brunette woman. Truth was, he was into only one person, and that person had shut him down as kindly and solidly as a best friend could.

Qhuinn evidently really, truly didn't do redheads.

When was the last time you were with anyone? John signed.

"I dunno." Qhuinn signaled for another round of beers. "A while."

John tried to think back and realized it hadn't been since...Christ, back in the summer, with that chick at Abercrombie amp; Fitch. Considering Qhuinn was usually good for at least three people a night, it was a hell of a dry spell, and it was hard to imagine that a steady diet of one-handed get-offs was going to hold the guy. Shit, even when he fed from the Chosen, he'd been keeping his hands to himself, in spite of the fact that his erections strained until he cold-sweated it. Then again, the three of them fed from the same female at the same time, and as much as Qhuinn had no problem whatsoever with an audience, his pants stayed on in deference to Blay and John.

Seriously, Qhuinn, what the hell is going to happen to me? Blay's here.

"Wrath said always with you. So I need to be. Always. With. You."

I think you're taking that too seriously. Like, way too seriously.

Across the VIP section, the redheaded gazelle moved around in her seat so that her below-the-waist assets were on full display, her smooth legs out from under the table and in full view of Qhuinn.

This time when the guy shifted, it was pretty obvious he was rearranging something hard in his lap. And it wasn't one of his weapons.

For f**k's sake, Qhuinn, I'm not saying it should be her. But we have to get you taken care of-

"He said he's tight," Blay interjected. "Just leave him be."

"There is one way." Qhuinn's mismatched eyes shifted over to John. "You could come with me. Not that we would do anything, 'cuz I know you don't fly like that. But you could have someone, too. If you wanted. We could do it in one of the private bathrooms, and you could have the stall so I wouldn't be able to see you. You just say the word, 'kay? I won't bring it up again."

As Qhuinn looked away all casual and shit, it was hard not to like the guy. Consideration, like rudeness, came in a lot of different variations, and the gentle offer of a cozy double sex session was a sort of kindness: Qhuinn and Blay both knew why, even eight months past John's transition, he hadn't been with a female. Knew why and still wanted to hang with him.

Dropping the bomb John had been hiding had been Lash's final f**k-you before he died.

Had been the reason Qhuinn had killed the guy.

When the waitress brought freshies, John glanced over at the redhead and, to his surprise, she smiled at him when she caught him looking.

Qhuinn laughed quietly. "Maybe I'm not the only one she likes."

John brought his Corona up to his mouth and took a drink to hide his blush. Thing was, he wanted sex and, like Blay, wanted it with someone in particular. But having already lost an erection in front of a naked, willing female, he was in no hurry to do that again, especially not with the person he was interested in.

Hell. No. Xhex wasn't the kind of female you wanted to choke on a hot wing around. Going limp because you were chicken to do the deed? His ego would never be the same-

Unrest in the crowd had him ditching the poor-mes and straightening in the banquette.

A wild-eyed guy was being escorted through the VIP section by two enormous Moors, each with a hand on his upper arm. He was tap-dancing with his expensive shoes, his feet barely touching the ground, and his mouth was likewise pulling some kind of Fred Astaire, although John couldn't hear what he was saying over the music.

The trio went into the private office in the back.

John tipped his Corona and stared at the door as it closed. Bad things happened to people who were taken in there. Especially if they were being hover-crafted by that pair of private guards.

Abruptly, a hush dimmed all the talk in the VIP section, making the music seem very loud.

John knew who it was before he turned his head.

Rehvenge walked in through a side door, his entrance quiet but as obvious as a grenade going off: In the midst of all the sharp-dressed patrons with their arm candy and the working girls with their assets out for hire and the waitresses hustling trays, the guy shrank the size of the space, not just because he was a huge male dressed in a sable duster, but because of the way he looked around.

His glowing amethyst eyes saw everyone and cared about no one.

Rehv-or the Reverend, as the human clientele called him-was a drug lord and a pimp who didn't give a shit about the vast majority of people. Which meant he was capable of, and frequently did, anything the f**k he wanted to.

Especially to types like that tap dancer.

Man, the night was going to end badly for that guy.

As Rehv passed by, he nodded to John and the boys, and they all nodded back, raising their Coronas in deference. Thing was, Rehv was an ally of sorts with the Brotherhood, having been made leahdyre of the glymera's council after the raids-because he was the only one of those aristocrats with the balls to stand his ground in Caldwell.

So the guy who cared about very little was in charge of a hell of a lot.

John turned toward the velvet rope, not even bothering to be smooth about it. Surely this meant Xhex had to be...

She appeared at the head of the VIP section, looking like a billion bucks, as far as he was concerned: As she leaned into one of her bouncers so the guy could whisper in her ear, her body was so tight her stomach muscles showed through the second skin of her muscle shirt.

Talk about shifting in the seat. Now he was the one with the rearrangement issues.

As she marched through to Rehv's private office, though, his libido went on ice. She was never the type who smiled much, but as she went by, she was grim. Just as Rehv had been.

Clearly, something was doing, and John couldn't help the knight-in-shining-armor impulse that lit up in his chest. But come on, Xhex didn't need a savior. If anything, she was the type who would be on the horse, fighting the dragon.

"You look a little tight there," Qhuinn said quietly as Xhex went into the office. "Keep my offer in mind, John. I'm not the only one hurting, am I."

"Will you excuse me," Blay said, getting to his feet and taking out his red Dunhills and his gold lighter. "I need some fresh air."

The male had started smoking recently, a habit Qhuinn despised in spite of the fact that vampires didn't get cancer. John understood it, though. Frustration had to be worked out, and there was only so much you could do alone in your bedroom or with your boys in the weight room.

Hell, they'd all gained muscle weight over the last three months, their shoulders and arms and thighs outpacing their clothes. Made a guy think fighters had a point about no sex before matches. They kept adding hard pounds like this, they were going to look like a pack of pro wrestlers.

Qhuinn stared down into his Corona. "You want to get out of here? Please tell me you want to get out of here."

John glanced at the door to Rehv's office.

"Stay it is," Qhuinn muttered as he signaled to a waitress, who came right over. "I'm going to need another of these. Or maybe a case."

Chapter TEN

Rehvenge shut the door to his office and smiled tightly, to keep his fangs from making an appearance. Even without the show of canines, though, the bookie hanging between Trez and iAm was smart enough to know he was in deep shit.

"Reverend, what's this all about? Why you calling me in like this?" the guy said in a staccato rush. "I was just working my business for you and suddenly these two-"

"I heard something interesting about you," Rehv said, going around behind his desk.

As he sat down, Xhex came into the office, her gray eyes sharp. After she closed the door, she leaned back against it, better than any Master Lock when it came to keeping cheating sports bookies inside and prying eyes outside.

"It was a lie, a total lie-"

"You don't like to sing?" Rehv leaned back in his chair, his numbed-out body finding a familiar position behind his black desk. "That wasn't you popping a little Tony B for the crowd at Sal's the other night?"

The bookie frowned. "Well, yeah...I got me some pipes."

Rehv nodded at iAm, who was, as always, stone-faced. Guy never showed emotion, except when it came to a perfect cappuccino. Then you got a little bit of the bliss out of him. "My partner over here...he said you sang real well. Real crowd-pleaser. What did he sing, iAm." iAm's voice was all James Earl Jones, low and gorgeous. "'Three Coins in the Fountain.'"