on you there.”
When she nodded again, her lips parted and her breath hitched like she was having trouble breathing. “’Tis for the best.”
God . . . now what? Did he tell her he loved her? He guessed he did, in his own fucked-up way.
“Listen . . . you take care,” he mumbled.
Lame-ass. Fucking lame-ass little bitch. But it was all he could manage.
“You . . . too,” she groaned.
Of its own volition, his good hand reached out and slowly slid against hers. As he tightened his grip slightly, she didn’t move or respond, and he had a sudden panic that he’d missed his opportunity, that she was already gone.
“Payne.”
Her lids fluttered. “Yes?”
The door opened and Jane put her head in. “We have to get going.”
“Yeah. Okay.” V gave his sister’s palm a final squeeze; then he left the room in a hurry.
When he got out into the hall, Rhage had arrived, and so had Phury and Z. Which was good. Phury was especially proficient at hypnotizing humans—and he’d done it at St. Francis before.
V went up to Wrath. “You’re going to feed her, true. When she comes out of the operation, she’s going to need to feed, and your blood’s the strongest we’ve got.”
As he put the demand on the table, it would have been great if he’d given a shit that Beth, the queen, might have a problem with sharing her mate like that. But, selfish bastard that he was, he didn’t care.
Except Wrath just nodded. “My shellan was the one who suggested it first.”
V’s eyes squeezed shut. Damn, that was a female of worth right there. Straight up.
Before he took off, he grabbed a last glance at his shellan . Jane was as steady as a house on solid ground, her face and her eyes strong and sure.
“I have no words,” he said hoarsely.
“And I know exactly what you’re telling me.”
V stood three feet from her, stuck to the floor, wishing he were a different kind of male. Wishing . . . so much about everything was different.
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ve got this.”
V took a last look over at Butch, and when the cop nodded once, the decision was final. Vishous nodded at his boy and then he strode off, out of the training center, into the underground tunnel, and up to the Pit.
Where he promptly realized that the physical distance didn’t do shit for him. He still felt he was in the midst of all the drama . . . and didn’t really trust himself not to end up back down there “to help.”
Out. He needed out and away from them all.
Breaking through the heavy front door, he marched into the courtyard . . . and ended up parked and going nowhere, just like the cars that were lined up side by side opposite the fountain.
As he stood like a planker, a strange, flicking noise got his attention. At first he couldn’t place it, but then he looked down. His gloved hand was shaking and hitting his upper thigh.
From beneath the lead-lined leather, the glow was bright enough to leave him squinting.
Goddamn it. He was so close to the edge of losing it, he might as well have already been in midair.
With a curse, he dematerialized and headed for the place he always went when he got like this. He didn’t want the destination or the drive that sent him into the night . . . but like Payne, his destiny was out of his hands.
EIGHT
OLD COUNTRY PRESENT
T he dream was an old one. Centuries old. And yet its images were fresh and clear as the night all had changed so many aeons ago.
Deep within his sleep, Xcor saw before him the apparition of a female of rage, the mist swirling about her white robes and frothing them up into the chilly air. Upon her appearance, he knew immediately why she had come out of the thick forest—but her target was as yet unaware of her presence or her purpose.
His father was too busy riding his steed down upon a human woman.
Except then the Bloodletter saw the ghost.
Thereafter, the sequence of events was as set as the lines in Xcor’s brow: He yelled an alarm and spurred on his
When she nodded again, her lips parted and her breath hitched like she was having trouble breathing. “’Tis for the best.”
God . . . now what? Did he tell her he loved her? He guessed he did, in his own fucked-up way.
“Listen . . . you take care,” he mumbled.
Lame-ass. Fucking lame-ass little bitch. But it was all he could manage.
“You . . . too,” she groaned.
Of its own volition, his good hand reached out and slowly slid against hers. As he tightened his grip slightly, she didn’t move or respond, and he had a sudden panic that he’d missed his opportunity, that she was already gone.
“Payne.”
Her lids fluttered. “Yes?”
The door opened and Jane put her head in. “We have to get going.”
“Yeah. Okay.” V gave his sister’s palm a final squeeze; then he left the room in a hurry.
When he got out into the hall, Rhage had arrived, and so had Phury and Z. Which was good. Phury was especially proficient at hypnotizing humans—and he’d done it at St. Francis before.
V went up to Wrath. “You’re going to feed her, true. When she comes out of the operation, she’s going to need to feed, and your blood’s the strongest we’ve got.”
As he put the demand on the table, it would have been great if he’d given a shit that Beth, the queen, might have a problem with sharing her mate like that. But, selfish bastard that he was, he didn’t care.
Except Wrath just nodded. “My shellan was the one who suggested it first.”
V’s eyes squeezed shut. Damn, that was a female of worth right there. Straight up.
Before he took off, he grabbed a last glance at his shellan . Jane was as steady as a house on solid ground, her face and her eyes strong and sure.
“I have no words,” he said hoarsely.
“And I know exactly what you’re telling me.”
V stood three feet from her, stuck to the floor, wishing he were a different kind of male. Wishing . . . so much about everything was different.
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ve got this.”
V took a last look over at Butch, and when the cop nodded once, the decision was final. Vishous nodded at his boy and then he strode off, out of the training center, into the underground tunnel, and up to the Pit.
Where he promptly realized that the physical distance didn’t do shit for him. He still felt he was in the midst of all the drama . . . and didn’t really trust himself not to end up back down there “to help.”
Out. He needed out and away from them all.
Breaking through the heavy front door, he marched into the courtyard . . . and ended up parked and going nowhere, just like the cars that were lined up side by side opposite the fountain.
As he stood like a planker, a strange, flicking noise got his attention. At first he couldn’t place it, but then he looked down. His gloved hand was shaking and hitting his upper thigh.
From beneath the lead-lined leather, the glow was bright enough to leave him squinting.
Goddamn it. He was so close to the edge of losing it, he might as well have already been in midair.
With a curse, he dematerialized and headed for the place he always went when he got like this. He didn’t want the destination or the drive that sent him into the night . . . but like Payne, his destiny was out of his hands.
EIGHT
OLD COUNTRY PRESENT
T he dream was an old one. Centuries old. And yet its images were fresh and clear as the night all had changed so many aeons ago.
Deep within his sleep, Xcor saw before him the apparition of a female of rage, the mist swirling about her white robes and frothing them up into the chilly air. Upon her appearance, he knew immediately why she had come out of the thick forest—but her target was as yet unaware of her presence or her purpose.
His father was too busy riding his steed down upon a human woman.
Except then the Bloodletter saw the ghost.
Thereafter, the sequence of events was as set as the lines in Xcor’s brow: He yelled an alarm and spurred on his
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