Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood #7) - Page 31

Chapter SIXTY-ONE

Rehv's brain came back online in a slow wave of flickering consciousness. Awareness flared and faded and returned, spreading from the base of his skull up into his front lobe.

His shoulders were on fire. Both of them. Head was killing him from when that symphath had sweet-dreamed him with the sword hilt. And the rest of him felt curiously weightless.

On the other side of his closed lids, light twinkled around him and registered deep red. Which meant the dopamine was fully out of his system and he was now who he would forever be.

Breathing in through his nose, he smelled…earth. Clean, damp earth.

It was a while before he was ready to do a look-see, but eventually he needed some other reference point than the pain in his shoulders. Opening his eyes, he blinked. Candles as long as his legs were set up at the far reaches of what appeared to be some kind of cave, the tremulous flames atop each one bloodred and reflecting over walls that seemed fluid.

Not fluid. There were things crawling on the black stone…crawling all over-

His eyes shot down to his body, and he was relieved to see that his feet were not touching the moving floor. A glance up and…chains held him aloft from the undulating ceiling, chains that were anchored by…bars inserted through his torso under his shoulders.

He was suspended in the midst of the cave, his naked body hovering above and below the shimmering, pulsating confines of rock.

Spiders. Scorpions. His prison was teeming with venomous guards.

Closing his eyes, he reached out with his symphath side, trying to find others of his kind, determined to get through the place where he was, to minds and emotions he could manipulate to get himself free: He might be in the colony to stay, but that didn't mean he had to keep hanging around like a chandelier.

Except all he could sense was a web of static.

The cast of hundreds of thousands that surrounded him formed an impenetrable psychic blanket, castrating his symphath side, allowing nothing into or out of the cave.

Anger rather than fear fisted in his chest, and he reached over to one of the chains and pulled on it using his massive pectoral muscles. Pain made him tremble head to foot as his body shifted in midair, but there was no budging his tether or dislodging the bolting mechanism that went through his flesh.

As he swung back to straight vertical, he heard a shifting sound, as if a door had opened behind him.

Someone came in, and he knew who, given how strong the psychic block they were putting up was.

"Uncle," he said.

"Indeed."

The king of the symphaths came shuffling around with his cane, the spiders on the floor breaking their quilt of bodies briefly to make way for him before swallowing up his path. Beneath those blood-colored imperial robes his uncle's body was weak, but the brain on top of that curved spine was incredibly strong.

Proof positive that physical strength wasn't a symphath's best weapon.

"How fare thee in thy floating repose?" the king asked, his royal headdress of rubies catching the candlelight.

"Complimented."

The king's brows lifted above his glowing red eyes. "How so?"

Rehv glanced around. "Hell of a lock and key you've got me under. Which means I'm more powerful than you're comfortable with or you're weaker than you wish you were."

The king smiled with the serenity of someone utterly unthreatened. "Do you know that your sister wished to be king?"

"Half sister. And it doesn't surprise me."

"For a time, I gave her what she wanted in my will, but I realized that I was inappropriately swayed and I changed everything. That was what your tithes were for. She was using them to transact business with humans, of all things." The king's expression suggested this was akin to inviting rats into one's kitchen. "That alone indicates she is utterly unworthy to rule. Fear is far more useful to motivate subjects-money being comparatively irrelevant if one is looking to gain power. And killing me? She presumed she could best my succession plan that way, which vastly overestimates her capabilities."

"What did you do with her?"

More of that serene smile. "What was fitting."

"How long are you going to keep me here like this?"

"Until she is dead. Her knowledge that I have you and that you are alive is part of her punishment." The king looked around at the spiders, something close to true affection flaring in his white Kabuki face. "My friends will guard you well, worry not."

"I'm not."

"You will be. I promise you." The king's eyes returned to Rehv's, his androgynous features shifting into something demonic. "I didn't like your father and was quite pleased that you killed him. That being said, you are not getting that chance with me. You live solely as long as your sister does, and then I shall follow your fine example and reduce the number of my kin."

"Half. Sister."

"So intent you are on distancing the ties between yourself and the princess. No wonder she adores you as much as she does. For her, that which is unattainable will always hold the most fascination. Which, again, is the only reason you live."

The king leaned on his cane and began to slowly creep back the way he had come. Just before he got out of Rehv's sight, he paused. "Have you ever been to your father's grave?"

"No."

"It is my favorite place in all the world. To stand upon the ground where his funeral pyre burned his flesh to ash…lovely." The king smiled with cold joy. "That he was murdered by your hand makes it all even sweeter, as he'd always thought you were weak and worthless. Must have stung him rather badly to be bested by the inferior. Do rest well, Rehvenge."

Rehv didn't respond. He was too busy poking at his uncle's mental walls, seeking a way in.

The king smiled, as if he approved of the attempts, and headed on his way. "I always liked you. Even though you are but a half-breed."

There was a click, as if a door had closed.

All the candles went out.

Disorientation squeezed Rehvenge's throat shut. Left alone, floating in the darkness, with nothing to ground him, terror seized him hard. To be without sight was the worst-

The bolts through his upper body began to tremble slightly, as if a breeze were blowing through the chains and vibrating them.

Oh…God, no.

The tickling started on his shoulders and intensified in a rush, flowing down his stomach and over his thighs, streaming out to the tips of his fingers, covering his back, blooming up his neck to his face. He used his hands to the extent he was able, trying to brush off the horde, but as many as he cast down to the floor, more overcame him. They were on him, moving over him, coating him with a constantly shifting straitjacket of tiny touches.

The fluttering at his nostrils and around his ears was his undoing.

He would have screamed. But then he would have swallowed them.

Back in Caldwell, in the brownstone he was damn well going to move into, Lash showered with lazy precision, taking his time with the washcloth, going in between his toes and behind his ears, paying special attention to his shoulders and lower back. There was no need to rush.

The longer he waited the better.

Plus, what a bathroom to hang out in. Top-drawer everything, from the Carrera marble on the floors and walls to the gold fixtures to the awesome stretch of etched mirror over the sunken sinks.

The towels hanging from the ornate racks were from Wal-Mart.

Yeah, and they were going to be replaced ASAP. The fucking things were all Mr. D had had at the ranch house, and Lash wasn't about to waste time driving around Caldwell just to find something better to wipe his ass dry with-not when he had his new piece of exercise equipment to put through its paces. After he got his workout in this morning, though, he was going to get on the Internet and order shit like furniture, bedding, rugs, kitchen supplies.

It would have to be delivered to that POS ranch where Mr. D and the others stayed now, though. UPS men were not welcome around here.

Lash left the bathroom light on and walked out into the master bedroom. The ceiling was prewar height, which meant the damn thing was so high cumulus clouds could form and float around the hand-carved moldings if the atmospheric conditions were right. The floor was gorgeous hardwood with inlaid cherry accents, and the walls were papered in an amazing dark green swirl, like the inside covers of an antique book.

The windows had just been sealed over with cheap blankets they'd had to hammer into the moldings-a crying shame. But like the towels, that would change. As would the bed. Which was nothing but a king-size mattress on the floor, its white, quilted skin laid out bare, like a Midwesterner trying to get a tan somewhere fancy.

Lash dropped the towel from his hips, his erection springing forward. "I love that you are a liar."

The princess lifted her head, her shiny black hair shifting with flashes of blue. "Will you let me go? The fucking will be better, I promise you."

"I'm not worried about how good it's going to be."

"Are you sure?" Her arms pulled against the steel chains that had been bolted into the floor. "Don't you want me to touch you?"

Lash smiled down at her naked body-which he now owned, for all intents and purposes. She was his gift, given by the symphath king as a gesture of good faith, a sacrifice that was also a punishment for her treason.

"You are going nowhere," he said. "And the fucking is going to be fantastic."

He was going to use her until she broke, and then he was going to take her out and make her find him vampires to kill. It was the perfect relationship. And if he got bored with her or she couldn't perform either sexually or as a divining rod? He would get rid of her.

The princess's eyes glared up at him, the bloodred color of them loud as a curse thrown at full volume. "You are going to let me go."

Lash reached down and started stroking his cock. "Only if it's to put you into your grave."

Her smile was pure evil, so much so, his balls tightened up like he was about to come. "We'll see about that," she said in a low, deep voice.

She'd been drugged by the king's private guard before Lash had left the colony with her, and when she'd been stretched out on this mattress her legs had been spread as far apart as possible.

So as her sex glistened for him, he could see it.

"I'm never letting you go," he said as he knelt down to the mattress and grabbed onto her ankles.

Her skin was soft and white as snow, her core pink as her nipples.

He was going to leave a lot of marks on her whip-thin body. And going by the way her hips rotated, she was going to like it.

"You are mine," he growled.

In a sudden flash of inspiration, he pictured his old rottweiler's collar around her slender neck. King's ownership tags were going to look great on her, and so was a dog's leash.

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

Chapter SIXTY-TWO

ONE MONTH LATER…

Ehlena woke up to the sound of china on china and the scent of Earl Grey tea. As her eyes opened, she saw a uniformed doggen struggling under the weight of a massive silver tray. On it was a fresh bagel capped by a crystal dome, a pot of strawberry jam, a scoop of cream cheese on a tiny porcelain plate, and, her favorite part, a bud vase.

Every night it was a different flower. This evening it was a sprig of holly.

"Oh, Sashla, you really don't have to do this." Ehlena sat up, pushing back sheets that were so fine and well made they were smoother than summer air against the skin. "It's lovely of you, but honestly…"

The maid bowed and offered a shy smile. "Madam should wake up to a proper repast."

Ehlena lifted her arms as a stand was put over her legs and the tray set on top of it. As she stared down at the lovingly polished silver and the carefully prepared food, her overriding thought was that her father had just gotten the same, served to him by a butler doggen by the name of Eran.

She stroked the fine curling base of the knife. "You are good to us. All of you. You've made us so welcome in this grand house, and we thank you very much."

When she looked up, there were tears in the doggen's eyes, and the maid hastily patted them away with a handkerchief. "Madam…you and your father have transformed this house. We are of great joy that you are our masters. Everything…is different now that you are here."

It was as far as the maid would go, but given how she and all the other staff had flinched for the first two weeks, Ehlena gathered that Montrag had not been the easiest head of household.

Ehlena reached over and gave the female's hand a squeeze. "I'm glad it's worked out for all of us."

As the maid turned away to resume her duties, she seemed flustered, but happy. At the door, she paused. "Oh, and Madam Lusie's things arrived. We've settled her in the guest suite next to your father. Also, the locksmith is coming in a half hour, as you requested."

"Perfect on both accounts, thank you."

While the door was shut quietly and the doggen went off humming a tune from the Old Country, Ehlena took the dome off her plate and knifed up some cream cheese. Lusie had agreed to move in with them and function as a nurse and personal assistant to Ehlena's father-which was fantastic. Overall, he'd taken to the new estate with relative ease, his demeanor and mental stability better than they had been for years, but the close supervision did much to ease Ehlena's lingering worry.

Being careful with him remained a priority.

Here in the mansion, for example, he didn't require tinfoil over the windows. Instead, he preferred to look out at the gardens that were beautiful even after having been put to bed for the winter, and in retrospect, she wondered if part of shutting out the world hadn't been because of where they'd been living. He was also much more relaxed and at peace, working steadily in the other guest bedroom next to his. He still heard the voices, though, and preferred order to mess of any kind, and he needed the medication. But this was heaven compared to what the last couple years had been like.

As Ehlena ate, she looked around the bedroom she'd chosen and was reminded of her parents' former manse. The curtains were the same kind that had hung back in her family's house, huge swathes of peach and cream and red falling from ruched headers with fringe. The walls were likewise done in luxury, the silk paper showing a pattern of roses that matched perfectly with the curtains, as well as coordinating with the needlepoint rug on the floor.

Ehlena, too, was at home in the surroundings, and yet utterly ungrounded-and not just because her life seemed like a sailboat that had capsized in cold water, only to abruptly right itself in the tropics.

Rehvenge was with her. Relentlessly.

Her last thought before she slept and her first upon waking was that he was alive. And she dreamed about him, seeing him with his arms at his sides and his head hanging down, silhouetted against a shimmering black background. It was a total contradiction, in a way, the belief that he was alive measured against that image of him-which seemed to suggest he was dead.

It was like being haunted by a ghost.

Make that tortured.

With frustration, she put the tray aside, got up, and showered. The clothes she changed into were nothing fancy, just the same ones she'd gotten from Target and on sale from Macy's online before everything had changed. The shoes…were the Keds Rehv had held in his hand.

But she refused to think about that.

The thing was, it didn't seem right to run out and spend a lot of money on anything. None of this felt like hers, not the house or the staff or the cars or all the zeroes in her checking account. She was still convinced Saxton was going to show up at nightfall with an oh-my-bad-all-this-should-have-gone-to-someone-else.

What a whoopsie that would be.

Ehlena took the silver tray and headed out to check on her father, who was down at the end of the wing. When she got to his door, she knocked with the tip of her sneaker.

"Father?"

"Do come in, daughter mine!"

She put the tray down on a mahogany table and opened the way into the room he used as his study. His old desk had been brought over from the rental bed, which had been placed next door, and her father was sitting down to his work as he always had, papers everywhere.

"How fare thee?" she asked, going over to kiss his cheek.

"I am well, very well indeed. The doggen has just brought my juice and my repast." His elegant, bony hand swept over a silver tray that matched the one she'd been brought. "I adore the new doggen, don't you?"

"Yes, Father, I-"

"Ah, Lusie, dearest!"

As her father rose to his feet and smoothed his velvet smoking jacket, Ehlena glanced over her shoulder. Lusie came in dressed in a dove gray sheath and a knobby hand-knitted sweater. She had Birkenstocks on her feet and thick, bunched-up socks that had likely been homemade as well. Her long, wavy hair was back from her face, pinned in a sensible clip at the base of her neck.

Unlike everything that had changed around them, she was still the same. Lovely and…cozy.

"I've brought the crossword." She held up a New York Times that was folded in quarters, as well as a pencil. "I need help."

"And, indeed, I am at your disposal, as always." Ehlena's father came around and gallantly angled a chair for Lusie. "Ease yourself herein and we shall see how many boxes we may fill."

Lusie smiled at Ehlena as she sat down. "I couldn't do them without him."

Ehlena's eyes narrowed on the female's faint blush and then shifted over to her father's face. Which was showing a distinct glow.

"I'll leave you two to your puzzle," she said with a smile.

As she left, two good-byes were given to her, and she couldn't help but think the stereo effect sounded very nice to the ear.

Downstairs in the grand foyer, she went left into the formal dining room, and paused to admire all the crystal and china that were set out on display-as well as the gleaming candelabra.

There were no candles topping those graceful silver arms, though.

No candles in the house. No matches or lighters either. And before they had moved in, Ehlena had had the doggen replace the gas-powered restaurant range with one that ran on electricity. Likewise, the two televisions in the family part of the house had been given to the staff, and the security monitors had been moved from an open desk in the butler's pantry to a closed room with a locked door.

There was no reason to tempt fate. Especially given that any kind of electronic screen, including those on cell phones and calculators, still made her father nervous.

The first night that they had come to stay at the mansion, she had taken pains to walk her father all around and show him the security cameras and the sensors and the beams not just in the house, but on the grounds. As she wasn't sure how he would handle the change in address or all the safety measures, she'd given him the tour right after he'd had his medications. Fortunately, he'd viewed the better accommodations as a return to normalcy, and had loved the idea that there was a system looking out all over the estate.

Maybe that was another reason he didn't feel the need to have the windows covered up. He felt as if he were being watched over in a good way now.

Pushing through the flap door, Ehlena went into the pantry and out to the kitchen. After chatting with the butler who had started cooking Last Meal, and complimenting one of the maids on how beautifully she'd polished the handrail of the big staircase, Ehlena headed for the study that was on the other side of the house.

The trip was a long one, through many lovely rooms, and as she went she trailed a gentle hand over the antiques and the hand-carved jambs and the silk-covered furniture. This lovely house was going to make her father's life so much easier, and as a result, she was going to have a lot more time and mental energy to focus on herself.

She didn't want it. The last thing she needed was empty hours with nothing but the crap in her head to keep her company. And even if she were in the running to win Miss Well-Adjusted, she wanted to be productive. She might not need the money to keep a roof over what was left of her family, but she'd always worked, and she'd loved the purpose and heart of what she'd been doing at the clinic.

Except she'd burned that bridge and then some.

Like the other thirty or so rooms in the mansion, the study was decorated in the manner of European royalty, with subtle damask patterns on the walls and sofas, plenty of tassels on the drapes, and lots of deep, glowing paintings that were like windows open to other, even more perfect worlds. There was one thing off the mark though. The floor was bare, the couches and the antique desk and every table and chair sitting directly on the polished wooden floor, the center of which was slightly darker than the edges, as if it had once been covered up.

When she'd asked the doggen, they had explained that the carpet had suffered a stain that was not removable, and thus a new rug had been ordered from the household's antiques dealer in Manhattan. They didn't go into any further detail about whatever had happened, but given how worried they all had been about their jobs, she could just imagine what Montrag would have done if there had been any kind of deficiency in performance, no matter how reasonable. One spilled tea tray? No doubt they'd had a big problem.

Ehlena went around and sat behind the desk. On the leather blotter, there was the day's Caldwell Courier Journal, a phone and a nice-looking French lamp as well as a lovely crystal statue of a bird in flight. Her old computer, which she'd tried to give back to the clinic before she and her father had come to the house, fit perfectly in the big flat drawer under the top-kept there always just in case he came in.

She supposed she could afford a new laptop, but again, she wasn't going to buy another one. As with her clothes, what she had worked just fine, and she was used to it.

Plus, maybe she was grounded a little by the familiar. And, man, she needed that.

Putting her elbows on the desk, she looked across the room at the spot on the wall where a spectacular seascape should have lain flat. The painting was angled out into the room, however, and the face of the safe that was exposed was like a plain female who'd been hiding behind a glamorous ball mask.

"Madam, the locksmith is here?"

"Please send him in."

Ehlena got to her feet, and went over to the safe to touch its smooth, matte panel and its black-and-silver dial. She'd found the thing only because she'd been so taken by the depiction of the sun setting over the ocean that she'd put her hand on the frame on impulse. When the whole picture popped forward, she'd been horrified that she'd hurt the mounting in some way, except then she'd looked behind the frame…and what do you know.

"Madam? This is Roff, son of Rossf."

Ehlena smiled and walked over to a male who was dressed in black coveralls and carrying a black tool case. As she went to put her hand out, he took off his cap and bowed low, as if she were someone special. Which was beyond strange. After years of being just a civilian, the formality made her uncomfortable, but she was learning that she had to let others honor the social etiquette. Asking them not to, whether they were doggen or workmen or advisers, just made things worse.

"Thank you for coming," she said.

"It is a pleasure to be of service." He looked over at the safe. "This is the one?"

"Yes, I don't have the combination to it." They headed for the thing. "I was hoping there was some way you could get into it?"

The wince he tried to hide was not encouraging. "Well, madam, I know this kind of safe, and it's not going to be easy. I'd have to bring in an industrial drill to get through the pins and release the door, and it would be noisy. Also, when I've finished the safe would be ruined. I mean no disrespect, but is there no way of retrieving the combination?"

"I wouldn't know where to look for it." She glanced around at the shelves of books and then over to the desk. "We just moved in, and there were no instructions."

The male followed her lead and ran his eyes around the room. "Usually owners leave such a thing in a hidden place. If you could only find it, I could show you how to reset the combination so that you could reuse the safe. As I said, if I have to drill in, it will have to be replaced."

"Well, I've been through the desk when I was exploring after we first came here."

"Did you find any hidden compartments in it?"

"Er…no. But I was just going through random papers and trying to make some space for my things."

The male nodded across at the piece of furniture. "In a lot of desks like that, you'll find at least one drawer with a false bottom or back that hides a small place. I wouldn't want to presume, but I could try to help you find one? Also, the moldings in a room like this might conceal spaces as well."

"I'd love another set of eyes on this, thanks." Ehlena went over and, one by one, removed the drawers of the desk, laying them side by side on the floor. As she went along, the male took out a penlight and looked into the holes that were revealed.

She hesitated when she got to the big drawer on the bottom left, not wanting to see what she'd stored there. But it wasn't as though the locksmith could see through the damn thing.

Muttering a quick curse, she pulled on the brass handle and did not look at all the sections she'd kept from the Caldwell Courier Journal, each folded in on itself to hide the articles she'd read and saved even though she didn't want to read them yet again.

She put that drawer as far away as she could. "Well, that's the last one."

With the male's head wedged under the desk, his voice echoed. "I believe there's a…I need my tape measure from my tool-"

"Here, I'll get it."

When she passed the thing over, he seemed astonished that she was helping. "Thank you, madam."

She knelt down beside him as he ducked backed under. "Is something off?"

"There appears to be…Yes, this is more shallow than the others. Let me just…" There was a squeak and the male's arm jerked. "Got it."

As he sat up, he had a rough-cut box in his workworn hands. "I believe the lid flips open, but I'll let you do it."

"Wow, I feel like Indiana Jones, just without the bullwhip." Ehlena lifted the top panel off and…"Well, no combination. Just a key." She took the slip of steel out, looked it over, then replaced it. "Might as well leave it where we found it."

"Let me show you how to put the hidden drawer back."

The male left twenty minutes later, after the two of them had knocked on all the walls and shelving and molding in the room and found nothing. Ehlena figured she'd search around one last time, and if she still ended up empty-handed, she'd have him come back with his big guns to bust the safe open.

Returning to the desk, she put the drawers into their slots, pausing when she got to the one that held all the newspaper articles.

Maybe it was the fact that she didn't have her father to worry about. Maybe it was the fact that she had some free time.

More likely, she was just having a weak moment in fighting back the need to know.

Ehlena took all the papers out, opening the folds and spreading them across the desk. All of the articles were about Rehvenge and the ZeroSum bombing, and no doubt when she cracked today's edition, she would find another to add to the collection. The reporters were fascinated by the story, and there had been a ton of coverage on it in the last month-not just in print, but on the evening news as well.

No suspects. No arrests. Skeleton of a male found in the rubble of the club. Other businesses he'd owned now run by his associates. Drug trade in Caldwell brought to a halt. No more murders of dealers.

Ehlena picked up an article off the top. It wasn't among the more recent ones, but she'd looked at it so much, she'd smudged the newsprint. Next to the text was a blurry picture of Rehvenge, snapped by an undercover police officer two years ago. Rehvenge's face was in shadow, but the sable coat and the cane and a Bentley were all clear.

The past four weeks had distilled her memories of Rehvenge, from the times they'd been together to the way things had ended with that trip she'd taken to ZeroSum. Instead of time dissolving the images in her head, what she remembered was becoming even clearer, like whiskey strengthening over time. And it was strange. Oddly enough, of all the things that had been said, good and bad, what came back to her most often was something that female security guard had barked at her as Ehlena had been on her way out of the club.

…that male has put himself in a rat-hole situation for me, his mother, and his sister. And you think you're too good for him? Nice. Where the hell do you come from that's so perfect?

His mother. His sister. Herself.

As the words banged around her head yet again, Ehlena let her gaze wander around the study until it reached the door. The house was quiet, her father busy with Lusie and the crossword puzzle, the staff working happily.

For the first time in a month, she was by herself.

All things considered, she should take a hot bath and cozy up to a good book…but instead, she took her laptop out, cracked the screen open, and fired the thing up. She had the sense that if she followed through with what she wanted to do, she was going to end up going down into a deep, dark hole.

But she couldn't help herself.

She'd saved the clinical record searches she'd done on Rehv and his mother, and as both of them had been declared dead, the documents were technically part of public record-so she felt less as if she were invading their privacy as she called both files up.

She studied his mother's records first, seeing some familiar things from having previously scanned it, when she'd been curious about the female who had birthed him. Now, though, she took her time, searching for something specific. Although God knew what it was.

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