Part 59 (1/2)
”Your name?”
”Mary. She named me after the Virgin Mary.”
Rhage's breath caught. And then he laughed softly.”What's so funny?”
His eyes were a bright, s.h.i.+ning teal blue. ”Just that V... well, Vishous is never wrong. Oh, Mary, my beautiful virgin, will you let me love you for as long as I live? And when I go unto the Fade, will you come with me?”
”Yes.” She stroked his cheek. ”But does it bother you that I can't have your children?”
”Not in the slightest. I have you, that's all that matters.”
”You know,” she murmured, ”there's always adoption. Do vampires ever adopt?”
”Just ask Tohrment and Wellsie. I can already tell they think of John as their own.” Rhage smiled. ”You want a baby, I'll get you one. And you know, I might be okay as a dad.”
”I think you'll be more than okay.”
When she bent down to kiss him, he stopped her. ”Ah, there's just one other thing.”
”What?”
”Well, we're stuck with the beast. I kind of bargained with the Scribe Virgin-”
Mary pulled back. ”You bargained?”
”I had to do something to save you.”
She stared at him, stunned, and then closed her eyes. He had set the wheels in motion; he had saved her.
”Mary, I had to trade something-”
She kissed him hard. ”Oh, G.o.d, I love you,” she breathed.
”Even if it means you're going to have to live with the beast? Because the curse is perpetual now. Set in stone. Forever.”
”I told you, that's fine with me.” She smiled. ”I mean, come on. He's kind of cute, in a G.o.dzilla sort of way. And I'll look at it as a two-for-one kind of deal.”
Rhage's eyes flashed white as he rolled her over and put his mouth on the side of her neck.
”I'm glad you like him,” he murmured, his hands tugging up her s.h.i.+rt. ”Because the two of us are yours. For as long as you'll have us.”
”That would be eternally,” she said as she let herself go.
And reveled in all the love.
Turn the page for a sneak peak at the story of Zs.a.d.i.s.t, the darkest vampire brother in the Black Dagger Brotherhood... Look for his book Lover Awakened in September 2006.
Twelve hours after having been rescued from the lessen by the Brotherhood, Bella looked around the opulent bedroom she'd been given and felt as if she had to transcribe what she was seeing. The safety she was surrounded by now seemed like another language, one she had forgotten how to speak or read.
She couldn't believe she'd really been saved. Or that she'd been brought to the Brotherhood's compound to recover.
In the corner of the room, the grandfather clock chimed. Now it was thirteen hours, she thought. Thirteen hours since the brothers had come for her and taken her from the earth back into the air.
She pulled the silk robe more tightly around her.
After G.o.d only knew how many weeks in that pipe in the ground, being free was alarming. It had been what she'd prayed for, and then given up any hope of, and she felt as though she should be rejoicing. The problem was that everything around her felt fake and insubstantial, especially given the luxury of this room: The heavy velvet drapes, the canopied bed, the museum-quality antiques should have been grounding in their stately beauty. Instead it was all papier-mache to her.
Only one thing felt real. And she had to find him.
Bella opened the door and put her head out. The hall was empty.
Which was perfect. She didn't want to be seen.
Slipping from the room, she glided over the oriental runner, making no sound at all in her bare feet. When she got to the head of the grand staircase, she paused, trying to remember which way to go.
The corridor with the statues, she thought, remembering another trip down that hall so many, many weeks ago.
She walked quickly and then ran, clutching the lapels of the robe and holding the slit on the bottom closed over her thighs. She pa.s.sed statues and doors until she remembered the right combination of the two.
As she stopped, she didn't bother to collect herself because she was uncollectible. She was loose, ungrounded, in danger of disintegration. She knocked loudly.
Through the door came a growl. ”f.u.c.k off. I've crashed.”
She turned the k.n.o.b and opened.
In the light from the hall, she watched as Zs.a.d.i.s.t sat up on a pallet of blankets that lay on the floor in the corner. He was naked, his muscles flexing, his nipple rings flas.h.i.+ng silver. His fearsome face, with that scar, was full of aggression.
”I said, f.u.c.k off-Bella?” He covered himself with his hands. ”Jesus Christ. What are you doing?”
Good question, she thought as her courage dimmed. ”Can-can I stay here with you?'
He frowned as if she'd lost her mind. ”What are you-No, you can't.” He grabbed something off the floor and held it in front of his hips as he stood up. She drank in the sight of him: the tattooed slave bands around his wrists and neck, the plug in his left earlobe, his black eyes, his skull-trimmed hair. His body was as starkly lean as she remembered, all striated muscles and hard-cut veins. And he threw off raw power like a scent.
To her, he was utterly beautiful.
”Bella, get out of here, okay? This is not the place for you.”
She ignored the command in his eyes and his voice. Because although her bravery was gone, desperation gave her strength. Now her voice no longer faltered.
”When I was so out of it in the car, you were behind the wheel.” When he didn't respond, she said, ”Yes, you were. That was you.
You spoke to me. You were the one who came for me, weren't you?”
He flushed. ”The Brotherhood came for you.”
”But you drove me away from there. And you brought me here first. To your room.” When he stayed silent, she said, ”Let me stay.