Ilona of the Ilona Andrews team was asked about fan fiction and said it didn't bother her because it was "inevitable". I happen to agree completely. I think if we love characters, worlds, all the hard work an author puts in to creating a universe that can exist clearly in our imaginations, we're going to be inspired to make stories that go along.
I could put my stories on fan fiction dot net, but I thought a blog would be more linkable for my friends and any adult content is properly flagged.
I don't own the characters or settings of my pieces, they were created by authors I admire. I don't expect, nor do I hope to make any money off of these stories. They are tributes, nothing more.
And FYI, Nora MacFie is not my name, it's just a name I like.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Friday, September 21, 2012
Lover Forbidden
The Black Dagger Brotherhood world and characters are owned by JR Ward. I expect no remuneration from this story.
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This story is meant to fit into the plot lines of Lover Enshrined and Lover Avenged. I doubt I'll be able to go through and tell you exactly where each piece fits, but that's the timeline I'm using.
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Scene 1
Don’t care about the clientele.
Most important rule in the mythical drug dealer’s handbook. Break that rule and the entire fabric of one’s business starts to unravel. It’s a guideline that covers everything. From late payments to teary confessions to exchanging someone’s money for poison week after week while you watch them succumb.
A cold heart is a business necessity, not just a plus. And the Reverend had it. Or used to, damn it.
“Seems like I see a lot of you these days. People might think we’re dating.” He smirked.
“If we were dating I’d expect a discount.” The warrior replied disdainfully.
“Discounts are bad for business.”
“So’s chit chat. You waiting for my money to scramble across the desk and make the call for you?”
Rehv eyed the other male. Normally he’d destroy anyone who spoke to him with such disrespect but he couldn’t indulge such inclinations with this one. The warrior was a Brother, a guardian of the vampire race. And, apparently, the Primale, the supposed father of the race who answered directly to the Scribe Virgin. On top of that he was very nearly family, his twin being mated to Rehvenge’s sister.
Never sell to friends or family
A close companion to the don’t care rule.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the warrior to slow down. That he could cut back a little at a time and get back to recreational use. Why not mix it with tobacco or a clove mixture to wean himself off the drug? How sappy was that?
Rehv made the call for the bag.
“You have a headache?” He asked when he saw the warrior rubbing his forehead.
“Like an ice pick.” He replied, nodding.
“Aspirin?”
“No thanks.”
Rehv almost laughed out loud. Phury was just the type of addict to be all self-righteous about over-the-counter painkillers while he was toking up toxic smoke and sucking down martinis nightly. It was so perfect he decided he would indeed laugh out loud.
Yellow eyes glared at him from a perfect face. How the male had remained celibate all those years was a mystery.
And since when had Rehvenge ever noticed a male’s face more than in passing? Much less the pleasing aesthetic of said face. See, that was the problem with him these days. Ever since that assault of a kiss, the one where his own deepest secret had been discovered, he’d definitely been noticing. Everything.
The warrior’s suit, a two point five thousand dollar model, easy, fit the male perfectly. Like it’d been inspired by him, which it probably had been. Rehv had something similar hanging in his own closet. But did he look as good in it? Doubtful. Damn that warrior knew how to hang some threads on his body.
The hair, the eyes, the physique, there was nobody who didn’t notice him when he walked into a room. As far as Rehvenge knew Phury had only partaken of the “staff offerings” once in all the time he’d been coming to Zero Sum and had never picked anyone up at the bar. The ladies on the Reverend’s payroll had noticed as well. They’d pretty much given up on Phury until his bathroom encounter not long ago, but since then he was a no show for the sex trade.
“So…” Rehv began.
“We don’t have to make small talk.”
“You’re in my office, my space. If small talk is what I want, it’s what I’ll make.”
“Whatever.” Eyeroll. No this warrior didn’t want to talk. Which, of course, made Rehv downright chatty.
“Aren’t you the clever one?” He smirked, “Schoolboy petulance a prerequisite for the Brotherhood these days?”
“I’ll wait outside.” Phury rose from his seat.
“You’ll wait a long time.” Rehv murmered.
The tension, the implicit threat of a cancelled sale, hung in the air. Rehvenge could practically see the warrior’s pulse increase along with the panic of the potentially bereft. He tried to set it aside.
Never care about the clientele.
“What do you want from me?” Phury asked tightly, sitting back down.
Rehvenge smiled. This conversation was going remarkably similarly to the one that had ended in that fateful liplock. If he was lucky …
What the fuck was he thinking?
“I don’t want anything from you,” he snapped, disgusted with himself for being attracted to an addict. A male addict. He’d never felt anything similar on either count.
“Did Z tell you to talk to me?”
“Why would he do that?”
Phury sized him up. Rehvenge felt that gaze, felt its contempt and wanted to revel in it. To turn attraction to something much more understandable. Like hate.
“Why would your twin ask me to speak to you?” He repeated. “If he has something to say, can’t he simply speak with you himself?”
“It’s complicated.” Phury ran his palms on his pants, flattening the perfect crease.
“Do tell.”
“No.”
A door in the darkened recesses of the office opened and Rehvenge turned toward Rally who approached him carrying a small bundle.
“Thank you, Rally.” He said, accepting it and setting it very precisely on his desk.
Phury leaned forward slightly, his knee bouncing anxiously. Rehvenge took his sweet time pulling a small scale from his desk drawer.
“What’s your game, sin-eater,” Phury snarled. “You never weigh during a buy.”
“That’s only in your experience to date. Times are hard. I don’t want to risk giving something for nothing.”
Phury snorted elegantly. Who snorts elegantly? No male Rehv had ever seen had as much physical grace as this one.
Rehvenge carefully weighed the package. Three times.
“Just give it to me,” Phury grumbled.
“Here,” Rehv slid the perfect-to-the-gram package across his desk.
“Good of you to expedite things.” Snatching the package and pocketing it with one smooth move.
“Anything for a Brother.”
Phury stilled. The look he threw Rehvenge was one of intense anger seasoned with anguish. For the first time since he’d known him, the warrior’s name suited him as perfectly as his clothes.
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Scene 2Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Lover Forbidden -- Scene 2
The Black Dagger Brotherhood world and characters are owned by JR Ward. I make no claim and expect nothing in return for this piece.
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This scene replaces something in Lover Enshrined. The Lessers have already attacked the clinic and taken Lash and Z has already asked Rehvenge to stop selling to Phury, only Phury doesn’t know it yet.
This scene starts right after Phury punches Z when they’re going to the car to talk to Lash’s parents. Phury has just mentioned that Z never thanked him for saving him and Z told him to “get off the cross”. Phury punches Z, knocking him onto the hood of the car.
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Scene 2
Z pushed himself away from the car, rubbing his jaw, violence in his eyes. Phury bent his legs, crouched into fighting position. This had been coming a long time.
“If it weren’t for your girlfriend you’d be on your ass right now.” His twin spat catching Phury off guard.
“What did she say?”
“She asked me to promise to protect you from harm,” Z smirked nastily. “I assume that includes harm from me.”
“I release you from your promise,” Phury’s teeth clenched so tightly he thought they’d crumble.
“We don’t have time …” And thanks to yet another sucker punch, Z back planted on the hood of the car a second time.
“You son of a bitch,” He growled.
Phury sank back to a fighting crouch, poised to knock it down and drag it out. Needing it.
“I’m not …” This one was an upper cut that slammed the scarred twin’s jaw shut and rattled his enamel.
That was enough of that. He leapt onto his brother and a full on brawl met the lawn of the Brotherhood mansion.
Phury tagged Z a few times in the ribs, hearing breath whoosh out in a pained grunt. Zsadist got low and tackled his twin at the knees, knocking the prosthetic out of whack in the process. His mistake was to stop and look at it. That’s how he ended up on his back in a classic grapple.
The fake leg was flopping around inside his pants but Phury could still use both knees. Not without discomfort, but that was a small price at that moment.
Z struggled to his feet and knocked Phury hard in the jaw, following up with a sweet right cross to the eye. Somehow he ended up on top of him, punching his face while blood flowed
A twist and flip and Z was on the bottom. Not for long, though, as he rolled to his stomach and back head-butted his twin right in the forehead. Swinging a hard elbow around as he turned he sent Phury to the grass when the male struggled up to a knee and a foot.
Gasping for breath, Zsadist glared at his twin, obviously thinking the fight might be wrapping up. Not so fast, Phury thought as he sprang forward and they were at the grapple again. Z took control easily and connected with punch after punch. The sound of fists on flesh was sloppy and, to Phury’s addled mind, exquisite.
They were pulled roughly apart by strong hands and arms and held down in case either had any plans to continue the disgrace. Phury twisted in the grip and saw he was confined by Rhage. Not much chance of breaking that hold. He relaxed. Looking at his twin he saw Butch had him in some kind of cop hold. Z probably could have gotten out of it, but he clearly decided not to. Their eyes met.
“Mother fucker!” The sound that came out of Z’s mouth was a strangled hiss and Phury wasn’t sure which one of them he was most pissed at. Zsadist had never hit Phury. All the times he’d demanded Phury beat him, he’d never hit back. It had to suck he’d broken the record now.
Phury smiled sadly knowing the action caused more blood to drip from his lips and gums. His face throbbed exactly as he’d been wanting it to. He knew his visage was grotesque. He wished Z wouldn’t … oh, whatever. Zsadist would do what he would do and there was nothing Phury had ever been able to do about it. And vice versa it seemed.
“What the ever-fucking fuck is going on out here?” Wrath’s voice boomed from the doorway. He wasn’t the only one there. Fritz, Beth and, oh shit, Cormia, stood there with him.
Zsadist had very few cuts or bruises. Mostly swollen knuckles and a slight thickening at his jawbone from those first punches. His clothes were disheveled, but he shrugged them together well enough.
“Does someone want to give me an explanation?” Man, Wrath was pissed.
“Just hammering some things out,” Phury offered, his voice a choked wheeze.
“You look like hell, Phury,” the cop said.
“I’ll clean up,” He said quietly.
“Don’t bother, you won’t be going to Lash’s parents house to tell them their son was taken by lessers looking like a two-bit street brawler.” Zsadist snapped.
“I’ll go.” Rhage appeared next to them, throwing a glare at Phury as he strode past him to the car.
Phury was about to say that he could go, but he knew his face was hamburger. Fuck. And everyone was pissed at him. Again. Double fuck.
Zsadist said not a word as he turned toward the vehicle. He fumbled with the keys for a second, his hands shaking, then remoted the locks. Rhage said something too low to hear and Z shook his head. Probably offered to drive.
Fuck times twenty.
Phury sat staring at the lawn. Each blade of grass was distinct in the spotlights off the mansion. Fascinated, he kept his gaze locked for a long time. The veins of each individual piece were evident and sharp making him zoom in tighter to the bottoms of the stems where the roots hid under the dirt. He pulled a piece out of the ground, severing blade from root and felt a villain for it. What the hell was that all about?
When he looked up again, his brothers, Fritz and Beth were gone. Cormia sat on the stoop watching him intently.
He wanted to dematerialize to what was left of his stash. He wanted to sink into the ground and never arise. He wanted to go back half an hour in time and never wonder why Z hadn’t thanked him for his sacrifice.
“Do you need help getting up?” Cormia was so sweet. Offering him something nice and practical instead of false sympathy.
“I need to strap on my leg, then maybe.” Phury responded quietly.
He rolled his pant leg up and unstrapped the prosthetic. He looked it over for damage before pulling the sock back over his stump and fitting it into the cuff.
“Are you hungry?” She asked.
“I don’t know.’’ And he really didn’t. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. Couldn’t remember when he’d last wanted to, either.
“I could prepare you a repast.”
“No, don’t. I’m not … I don’t know,” He didn’t want her cooking for him. Not even putting together a cold sandwich. “Just don’t.”
“Okay,” Damn, she looked completely crestfallen. What was he supposed to do with that? Why was he such an asshole?
He fixed his pants, rolled the leg down and motioned for her to come to him.
“I don’t know if this will work,” He grasped her shoulder and used it for balance as he pushed himself to his feet.
“I’m stronger than I look,” Cormia lifted her chin as she steeled her body to the burden of his weight. “And than I’ve acted in the past.”
“Good. That’s good.” Phury didn’t know what the hell this conversation was about but he needed to get upstairs immediately. They struggled their way to the foyer.
“Are you certain you would take no food?”
“I need to clean up and get some shut eye,” He replied distractedly. “Thanks for the help.”
Cormia was quiet for a moment.
“Yes. It was no trouble.” She turned and walked to the library, leaving Phury alone in the vast entrance.
Wrath appeared at the top of the stairs.
“In my office!” He bellowed. “Now!”
Shit. Phury needed to get to his room. This was not a good time for a meeting with the king.
“Just let me clean up and I’ll be right there.” He said, pulling himself up the banister. His stump was bruised from being used as a foot and it hurt like hell.
“Ten minutes.” Wrath said sharply and focused a hard glare at the Primale. Even being the father of the race hadn’t gotten him out of bowing and scraping to the powers-that-be. Still answering to someone else.
“Okay,” he muttered as he made it to the landing and turned down the hall.
Very first thing on closing his door was to raid the bedside table for his bag. He needed a hit like he needed his heart and that was giving his heart a lot more credit than he felt it deserved.
He slid open the drawer. Empty. He looked at the shelf underneath. Nothing. His blood rushed deafeningly in his ears as he checked the table on the other side of the bed. He checked under his bed. He checked the pockets in the suits in his closets.
Had he smoked the last of it and not realized? What was he going to do now? Gulp down martinis probably, but it wasn’t the same buzz. And the hangover sucked.
Shit. He was going to have to make a quick trip to Zero Sum if he was going to make this meeting with Wrath. He pictured Rehvenge as he’d last seen him. The dealer looked right into him. He didn’t want the male to know how far he’d fallen, but who knows better than the dealer? Shit. He really hated imagining what Rehv might think of him these days.
Phury dug under his bed again, knowing already the bag wasn’t there. He’d rather take a couple of quick looks than face that male and his amethyst eyes. Such beautiful peepers, coupled with a handsome face and that striking Mohawk, should have netted him a top female. But he was alone too. Maybe it was the trade. Maybe he knew Phury’s insides because he was the same wine in a different bottle.
Damn, he was already late for his meeting with Wrath and he hadn’t even cleaned up. Priorities are priorities, though.
He slunk down the stairs to the foyer, silently made his way out the door, and dematerialized.
Inevitable Note: I’ve always wanted to see Z and Phury brawl. Not because I’m a sicko, but because brothers do that. It’s cathartic. And these two have centuries worth of justifiable resentment toward each other. A brawl is the natural outcome of what they’ve gone through and what they mean to each other.
This also launches us to what happens next.
This story is actually being told in scenes that you can fit into a smushed version of Lover Enshrined and Lover Avenged. I’ll try to be clear about what has happened so far (in the actual text) when I post each scene, but feel free to ask questions if you’re unsure.
Inevitable Soundtrack: I like to make soundtracks of the stories I write. The theme song for this scene is Breaking Benjamin’s Here We Are
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Lover Forbidden -- Scene 3
The Black Dagger Brotherhood world and characters are owned by JR Ward. I make no claim nor seek to gain anything from this fan piece.
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While this is going on Rhage and Z are finding Lash’s family’s bodies (as they were found in Lover Enshrined).
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Scene 3
“Rehvenge,” Xhex’s voice pulled him away from endless ledgers.
“What’s up?” He asked looking at her. He went on high alert at the concerned look on her face.
“You’ve got company,” she warned and Rehv looked behind her to see Phury with his head slightly bowed and, fuck and damn, blood all over his face and the front of his suit.
“Get him in here,” Rehv rose from his seat as quickly as his numb legs would allow and made his way over to the pair. “Lock the door.”
Xhex flipped the dead bolt and maneuvered Phury to a chair.
“What happened to you?” Rehvenge pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the wounded warrior. Phury studied the square of cloth, made no move to use it.
“Nothing,” was the sullen reply, “I want to make a buy.”
“You just made a buy two days ago,” nothing, my ass, “you couldn’t have smoked all that in two days.”
“I lost it, not that it’s any of your business. I’ve got money.” He still hadn’t raised his head or looked Rehvenge in the eye.
Rehvenge looked at Xhex. She knew the whole no-buy deal but she wasn’t offering up the news to Phury. If he asked her to she would, but he wouldn’t do that to her. He was the focus of any buyer irritation. He wouldn’t visit that on Xhex.
“What?” Phury finally asked, looking back and forth between them as if to decipher their silent conversation.
“I can’t.” Rehvenge sat on the edge of his desk, stunned at finally viewing the full damage to the warrior’s face as well as his seeming obliviousness to it.
“Why? My money’s good.”
“You’re on the no-buy list.” Rehvenge noticed Xhex tensing, preparing for attack. SOP in their world where it’s not uncommon for addicts to take being cut off badly.
“Why? I’ve never given you any trouble. I’ve given you a lot of fucking money, probably bought one of your fur coats I’ve spent so much here.” Uh oh, the yellow eyes were getting a little wild. Xhex moved slightly to the right where a rebar rested against the wall and Rehvenge hoped she wouldn’t have to use it.
“It isn’t a question of how much money you’ve spent with me …”
“Z did this, didn’t he? It’s none of his fucking business.” Phury rose from his seat and found himself just as quickly pinned back down with the rebar across his neck.
“He did it to save your life, you know you’ve been using too much.” Rehvenge said gruffly.
“Move this off my neck or I will kill you.” Phury seemed to think he could give Xhex orders.
She looked over at Rehvenge who nodded. Phury rose again with as much dignity as he could muster, which must have been difficult with the anger and rapidly rising panic radiating from him.
“My drug use is nobody’s business but mine. You sell red smoke, I buy it and use it as I see fit. Z has no place in this arrangement.” The deep voice was getting louder.
“Calm down,” Rehvenge warned.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You make a vow to a third party to put me on the no-buy list and expect me just to take it as if it makes sense? It doesn’t make sense!” Rehv actually had to agree a little bit there. If his brother-in-law hadn’t asked him to put this particular warrior on the no-buy list he wouldn’t have done it. This is why personal connections with buyers were strongly discouraged. They’re too complicated and almost always end up causing a scene.
The warrior actually got louder, “It’s bullshit and you know it! Would you do that to anyone else? Take some overbearing family member’s word for it that you should stop selling to someone? You wouldn’t, would you? Z has no place in this arrangement, now take me off the list and let me buy!”
Xhex put her hand to a receiver in her ear.
“They’re hearing this out there,” she said.
“Shit,” Rehvenge responded, “Come with me.” He ordered Phury.
The warrior went silent but definitely hadn’t calmed. Licked his lips nervously. The calculations could easily be read on his face. If he didn’t get kicked out he might have a chance of changing Rehvenge’s mind. He didn’t move, though. Waiting for an engraved invitation?
“At the very least you need to get cleaned up, you’re not going back in my club looking like that.” Rehvenge walked to a door in a dark alcove and opened it, stepping aside to usher Phury in.
The warrior looked in for a moment before looking back at Rehv. He licked his lips again, damn it, and stepped into Rehv’s secret sanctuary.
“I thought you lived at the Commodore.” Phury commented looking at the tidy little living space.
“This is for late nights and long days,” Rehvenge went to the bathroom and soaked a hand towel. “Have a seat.” He motioned to a bar area off a kitchen and Phury sat on a stool.
“I can do it,” Phury reached for the towel but Rehvenge pulled it back.
“Ssshhh.” He said quietly and rolled the cloth around his hand.
The warrior didn’t protest. Still hoping to argue his way into a buy, most likely. Rehvenge dabbed at the cut on a fine cheekbone and the equally deep one over a swelling eye. He swabbed the drying blood off Phury’s jaw and down the crease to his neck and felt the warrior swallow under the cloth.
Phury’s eyes were closed. He sat very still. His nostrils flared ever-so-slightly when the cloth stroked the sensitive spot behind his ear and on down the tendons of his powerful neck.
Rehvenge slowly and methodically cleared the blood away and Phury never opened his eyes, never protested the slightest pain of contact with a wound. Rehv continued even after there was no blood remaining on the warrior’s skin. Stroking gently, watching the broad shoulders relax.
This was so not his job.
And he wouldn’t give it up on pain of death.
Feeling self-indulgent Rehvenge lifted his other hand to Phury’s temple and gently tunneled his fingers into that tempting mane. And damn if that warrior didn’t lean into it. Eyes closed, breath unsteady, he settled his head into the palm of Rehvenge’s hand.
Finding air a precious commodity, Rehvenge kept his fingers tangled in Phury’s locks discovering the mass to be as lush as he’d imagined. Rehv allowed the moment to linger before he went further. Holding his breath he let his thumb make a couple of gliding passes on the sculpted cheek.
Yellow eyes snapped open and flared. Rehvenge caught the emotions, guilt, longing, and then guilt again, but Phury hadn’t pulled away, so he didn’t lower his hands. Stares locked, bodies frozen in place, time measured in heartbeats. The room took the aspect of suspended animation, an antique clock’s tick the loudest sound.
“Is that what you want?” Phury finally asked, his voice a whisper as rough as sandpaper. “You want to fuck me? You want me to suck your cock? Watch me fuck someone else? I’ll do it. I don’t care, just take me off the list.”
Rehvenge recoiled, appalled. Horrified not only by the warrior’s sordid plea, but by his own body’s reaction to it. Yeah, Mr. Softee didn’t take a stand for anyone except, apparently, a desperate addict offering the use of his body for the opportunity to buy drugs. Not just any addict, though. This addict. It’s not like it was the first time he’d heard such propositions, it was just the first time one had sparked physical interest.
Rehvenge was sickened. By rights he should kill them both. Murder/suicide, quick, ugly but done. That he would die with an obvious trouser-tent would ruin the picture but, really, wouldn’t it be better to throw them both off this train?
He jerkily moved to a console and pushed a button that connected him to the bouncers, calling them to his lair, hoping his erection would deflate before they got there.
“You’re kicking me out?” Phury licked his lips again and Rehv snarled under his breath. “You can’t do that.”
Rehv said nothing, wanted to turn away from the haunting, bleak look in those eyes, but damned himself to look. He’d been a part of this disaster, the least he could do was take it all in so he could revisit the moment when he needed a shot of self-loathing.
A hard knock sounded on the door and Rehvenge pulled it open.
“Get him out of here,” he motioned to Phury who backed away from the gigantic duo. “Not one added scratch or bruise, just escort him off the premises.”
“I misunderstood,” Phury looked at Rehvenge with stark, hollow eyes, “don’t kick me out.”
“Don’t make a scene.” Rehv said with a sternness he didn’t feel. “Go. And don’t hurt my employees. Enough is enough.”
A million expressions crossed Phury’s face but ultimately he landed on stoic.
“I misunderstood.” He said quietly.
“Not completely,” Rehvenge murmured, but when those eyes snapped to his once again he added, “enough is still enough. You have to go.”
Phury stood tall as he walked with the two mountains. He had a couple inches on them but he still managed to look frail to Rehv’s eyes. He watched them walk the broken warrior through the club and out the door. He closed himself in his office and pounded the reinforced wall with his fist until his knuckles were bloody and swollen. He didn’t even hear Xhex enter he was so engrossed in self-flagellation.
“Hey!” She barked at him, halting him in mid-punch.
He rested his forehead on the wall, not wanting to look at her.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, softly rubbing her palm up and down his back between his shoulder blades.
“It’s not?”
“You know it isn’t. People make their own choices. Sometimes those choices kill them. We both know that.” Her voice strained for a moment.
“And if they don’t get it from me they’ll get it from someone else.” The drug dealer’s mantra. What bullshit.
“Yep.” She agreed.
“Except he can’t get red smoke from anyone but me. Not unless he goes to Canada or out to the Pacific Northwest. Nobody else sells it.”
“So he’d get something else.”
“And I just sent him off to do that.”
“Damn it, Rehvenge, don’t do this now! We’ve got enough trouble!” She told him angrily.
That got his attention. “What’s happened? More lesser attacks?”
“Not that I’ve heard of. Villaroel’s MIA.” She said, all business.
“How MIA?” This was bad.
“We can’t get in touch with him to make the exchange. He’s completely dropped off the globe as far as we can tell. We’re going to have to find another ruby source.” She explained.
“Fuck! This is all I need!” Rehvenge snagged a crystal vase off the corner of his desk and reared back to throw it. Xhex caught his arm at the last second.
“I’ve got a line on a couple of alternate sources. I think I’ll have someone in place by the next meet with the bitch.” She said plucking the vase from his hand and setting it gently back down.
“Okay ... okay,” thank the virgin for Xhex, he’d be lost without her. “Keep trying to find Villaroel. I don’t like disappearances unless I cause them myself.”
“Gotcha. I’ve got some feelers out,” Xhex eyed him worriedly. “You okay?”
“No, but I’m better,” he cleansed his lungs with a deep breath in and out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“No problem. But, you know there’s a way we could forget the whole ruby thing altogether.”
“We’d be dead in a week, Xhex. I’m not risking it. Just find out about those new contacts, okay?” He managed a tight smile and took himself back to the apartment. “I’ll probably crash here. No interruptions, okay?”
“Okay, Rehv. Um. Don’t do anything without talking to me. Ever.” Xhex gave him one of those looks that meant disobedience was not an option.
“I won’t.” He said and stepped into the apartment. Xhex slammed the door back before he could close it.
“Promise me!” She ordered.
“I promise, Xhex,” he gave her a weary smile and shut the door.
Inevitable Soundtrack: The theme song for this scene is also from Breaking Benjamin (I like them, can you tell?) called Diary of Jane.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Lover Forbidden -- Scene 4
The Black Dagger Brotherhood world and characters are owned by JR Ward. This is a work of fan fiction with no expectation of monetary gain from this piece.
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This picks up where my last scene left off. There are multiple locations but it’s all pretty much one scenic sequence.
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Scene 4
Phury walked the strip for a while. Bars were blaring music almost as loud as the blood in his veins was screaming for release. He was unauthorized to fight anymore, but damn he needed one.
And what if he got caught hunting even though he’d been canned?
Who really fucking cares?
He thought back over the last few hours. The resentment that had built to his fight with Z. His disgusting dismissal of Cormia. And the piece de resistance, his encounter with Rehvenge.
What the hell had he been thinking? That he wanted drugs at all cost, of course. But, no, that wasn’t all, was it? He’d been affected. Rehvenge’s touch, the sensuality of his ministrations on Phury’s skin, that strong hand cradling his weary head. He’d been affected by a need far different from the one he’d expressed.
What would Rehvenge think if he knew that foul offer hadn’t only been driven by addiction? What would he think if he knew the desperate desire inside Phury had led him to make a proposition he wouldn’t have minded fulfilling in the least?
The erstwhile warrior continued down the brightly lit avenue where bars lined the streets along with would-be patrons seeking after-hours admittance to the seedy interiors. When Phury saw Zero Sum in the distance, he knew exactly how those line jockeys felt. To be excluded. Cut out of what it seemed like everyone else in the world could have.
He noticed Screamers across the street and hoofed it over. He needed to start drinking and fast. Before his thoughts took him places he really didn’t want to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cormia paced the floor of her room in the mansion. She’d heard Wrath cursing not long ago and the staff checking the room next door for the Primale. He, apparently, was nowhere to be found.
She worried.
Checking the clock she headed down the stairs to look in the library. She’d seen him there a few times; perhaps he’d have ended up there again. Or in the game room where the bar was. She was not so naïve that she didn’t know he was using various substances to calm his mind. She wished she could do something to help him, but he’d shown he had no interest in anything having to do with her at all.
He wasn’t in the library. The sun would be up in an hour. Where was he?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rehvenge lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He’d shot himself up with dopamine but it didn’t relax him. Didn’t help him sleep. Kept some evil impulses at bay, but not the feelings kindled by seeing Phury in such a state. By the warrior’s offer.
What would have happened if he’d said “yes”? Would he have unbuttoned the warrior’s shirt, loosened the tie and peeled back the suit jacket to reveal the sculpted body underneath? Licked along the clavicle to the valley between the muscular pecs, listened to fractured breathing as his fingers pulled at the leather belt. A quick button flick, a zipper unzipped and a hand could easily fit inside whatever under garments he had underneath those spectacularly fitting pants.
He’d have wrapped his hand around Phury’s thick shaft and stroked it slowly. Not a painful stroke, but not a soft one either. Gliding his palm along the hard sex while he sucked hard on the tendons low on the warriors neck, biting into …
And there went Mr. Softee again, standing at attention. He hadn’t even gotten erect when he’d fed Marissa and she was his perfect ideal … until she’d rejected him, of course. Which even he admitted had been for the best.
What was it about the warrior that tripped his trigger? Well, he was damn near the most gorgeous male he’d ever seen. But he’d seen plenty of attractive men in his bar, not one of them had ever sparked his interest. He’d never even entertained the possibility of a tryst with a male.
And what of Phury? He’d offered his body, but for drugs, not true interest. He even had a mate of sorts. Forty mates!
Rehv groaned and he covered his eyes with his big forearm, willing his mind back to the problems at hand. Rubies. Lots of them. And he needed them in a week and a half. The Princess would take nothing less than the best, and Rehv would be trying out a new supplier with just enough time to make the buy and hand them over. Very dangerous.
Maybe Xhex was right. Maybe they should just put the Princess out of everyone’s misery. Of course, her husband, the king, wouldn’t like that and Xhex and Rehv would end up in the Colony on the lunch buffet.
Thoughts of the Princess definitely took the edge off the erection. Soon he was back to his old, impotent self. Thank the virgin.
He rubbed his chest. It had been tight and aching ever since he’d seen the two bouncers walk Phury out of the club. He had a bad feeling. And his bad feelings usually meant very, very bad things.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phury sucked down his third martini in about 20 minutes. It wasn’t enough to take him where he needed to go, but any faster and he’d just throw it all up. He had a sudden recollection of Butch drunkenly telling him “It’s not the alcohol that makes you sick, it’s the mixers.” He almost laughed … or something.
He watched the people in the bar, mind altered revelry looking so much more appealing than his own. They were all dressed up in their social uniforms. Some with the ripped jeans, chained wallet, motorcycle boot look and some with the GAP Casual Friday look. They’d come for fun and mischief. He’d come because he had nothing else.
On the other end of the bar he caught sight of a guy in a leather jacket with a huge eagle plastered on the back. The guy had the look of a scumbag and he left with one of the Casual Friday guys. After about fifteen minutes, Eagle Jacket came back alone and Casual Friday guy’s friends left. Dealer.
Phury got up and approached nonchalantly. Might be a cop. Not that a cop could do anything to him, but he didn’t want to cause more angst for Wrath if he could help it and human authorities were nothing if not angst-causing.
“What’s up?” The guy asked, looking Phury up and down, taking in the expensive, blood-covered threads.
“I’m interested in buying some take-out.” Phury replied, hoping that was obvious enough without being too obvious.
“Come into my office my good man.” The guy said as he banged on the security door that opened into the alley.
Shit. A cop. No actual dealer would be stupid enough to trust that short conversation.
“What do you want?” The dumbass went on as they stepped out the door into his office, “I’ve got coke and H.”
No way did Phury want coke. Like he wasn’t bursting out of his skin already.
“H,” he said and prepared to poof out if the guy flashed a badge.
But the guy didn’t, proving he wouldn’t be long for the streets, he only pulled out a small bag.
Phury took the bag and reached into his pocket for the cash he’d been planning to give Rehvenge. Spotlights flared and the alley went nuclear.
But Phury wasn’t there. He was in the courtyard of the mansion.
He assumed the dealer was arrested. Poor stupid guy.
He figured there might be someone looking for him inside. He’d blown Wrath off, after all. Not really the kind of thing you do if you want to keep a low profile.
He went every back way he knew up to his room, got some equipment and Caspered out to the fountain. He wouldn’t shoot up inside. Bringing this shit to the Brotherhood’s compound was a sin he couldn’t help committing. But he could keep it from tainting their living space. This was his deal, not theirs.
He’d determined the fountain was a good place to trip. Not too far away from the building so he could get inside easily before sunrise, and architecturally pleasing enough to keep him focused rather than allowing his mind to fly off-kilter. Well, more off-kilter than it already was, anyway.
The light was dim, but it was atmospheric. Perfect.
He set out his supplies, heated the product, filled the syringe and shot it into his arm.
Then he died.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cormia saw the Primale sneaking around the house. That was what he had been doing. Sneaking. It was undignified and beneath him, but he was avoiding her and everyone else at all costs.
When he went back outside she watched surreptitiously. Perhaps she had fallen as far as he.
Surely he would come back in. Or perhaps he was dematerializing to another location where he would be safe from the sun. She could just barely see him in the distance by the fountain, laying items on the ground and sitting in front of them. A small fire ignited. A lighter like the ones Fritz used to light the dining room?
When the flame went out her visual disappeared behind the structure. She waited. The certainty of sunrise had her tapping her feet. She heard the motors that ran the metal shutters whirring and she knew she had to act or live with having done nothing.
Against all self-preservation instincts she opened the door and ran to the back yard. As she neared the fountain she saw the Primale’s large body crumpled over and she started yelling for help.
The sun began its leisurely ascent and she could feel the discomfort but she had to pull him in somehow. He outweighed her one and a half times at least, but she was indeed stronger than she looked.
She snatched some of his supplies, making sure to grab the small glass vial because it seemed important, and jammed them into her deep pockets. Then she hooked her arms under the Primale’s massive shoulders and struggled backward toward the mansion with his rag-doll body.
Her skin sizzled with exposure. She’d never felt the sun’s rays having lived on the Other Side for her entire youth pre-transition. This was not the happy encounter she’d read of in poetry. This hurt.
She was suddenly shoved aside and powerful arms took her burden. Throwing the Primale’s inert body over his shoulder, John Matthew grabbed Cormia around the waist and half-dragged, half-carried her until they came to Fritz who, despite his advanced years, easily took Cormia into a bride carry and hurried off.
She awoke briefly when the door slammed behind them but the throbbing pain on every section of exposed skin sent her right back toward blackness. The last thing she saw was John Matthew’s frighteningly angry, blistered face as he threw the Primale to the floor with a less than gentle touch. Then he went down as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inevitable Note: The reason I did the OD scene like this was because, in Lover Enshrined, I thought Cormia and Phury made a striking parallel between young boy Phury and Ahgony. Phury neglected Cormia as Ahgony had neglected Phury. He had a memory of having to pull his passed-out father in before the sun and I thought Cormia having to do the same thing for him would be another cathartic moment.
I also wanted to do something that really justified his being kicked out of the mansion without any traditional intervention attempts.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Lover Forbidden -- Scene 5
The Black Dagger Brotherhood world and characters are owned by JR Ward.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scene 5
“What’s wrong? Is Bella okay?” Nobody called Rehvenge at the unholy hour of two in the freaking afternoon unless it was urgent. And when his brother-in-law’s number showed up in caller ID, he was damn well awake enough to pick it up.
“Bella’s fine,” the warrior snarled, “but you won’t be once I get through with you.”
What the fuck?
“What putrid demon flew up your ass, warrior?” Rehv responded disdainfully, yawning to make a point.
“You want to know what’s got me tweaked, asshole?” Z’s voice was too controlled not to be backed by something primitive and dangerous. “I don’t know, Rehvenge, maybe knowing a fellow vampire risked his skin to carry my twin’s lifeless, OD’d body in from the morning sun. You think that’d do it?”
No.
Rehv stared hard at the phone as if willing it never to have rung might change everything.
“You still there, you honorless prick?” Z growled.
Rehv tried unsuccessfully to speak. He cleared his throat.
“I didn’t sell him anything,” he finally choked out. “I kept to my vow.”
“Liar.”
“Fuck you!” Rehvenge snapped, showing uncharacteristic emotion. How dare that fucking sanctimonious bastard. “I didn’t sell him anything! He came to me and I turned him away just like I told you I would. Had him escorted out of the club since he took it about as well as you’d expect.” Outrage swirled around Rehv and cut off his air. He wanted Z to come after him. They could settle some family business. “He probably went someplace else to buy after he left, but he wouldn’t find red smoke anywhere around here. What did he use?”
“Heroin, and I don’t for a minute believe your little story.”
“Listen up, shithead, if you hadn’t milked that vow out of me I’d have sold him the red smoke he wanted, he wouldn’t have gone someplace else to buy dirty shit, and he’d be sitting there in that compound where you want him. Stoned, but at least he’d be alive. What do you think about that, you meddling dickhead?”
Rehvenge paced. He was dizzy and needed an injection but he doubted he’d be able to handle a syringe with his hands shaking as badly as they were. The walls were spiraling around him, everything closing in.
“Oh, he’s alive, no thanks to you.”
Relief hit Rehv like a charging rhino and he had to sit down. He rocked forward, bending double and forced himself to breathe.
“He’s alive?” Rehv’s voice sounded like broken glass and gravel. He could barely understand the words himself.
“Yeah, but this isn’t over. Others put their lives in danger to save his ass. He’s not getting away with it this time.” Suddenly Z just sounded tired.
“This time?” Rehvenge was barely keeping track of the conversation. He was still processing the news that Phury was actually alive, but also accepting the fact he’d sent him off knowing he’d probably go someplace else to buy inferior product.
“You really didn’t sell him anything?” Z asked.
“I kept to my vow, I swear on my sister’s life.”
“Any idea who did sell to him?”
“I had him escorted out. If he’d been anywhere around Zero Sum, I’d have known it. I have no idea where he would have gotten the heroin.” But I’m going to find out.
“Okay,” Z said, his voice tight, “Look, things are going to change big time and Phury may come back to you. He might seem like he has a good argument for you selling to him, but … don’t. Please.”
“And if he goes out and finds someone else to sell him something even more lethal?”
“That’ll suck.” Was all Zsadist said before the phone line went dead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At this point we have the existing scene from Lover Enshrined -- after the overdose -- between Z and Phury with a few added lines plugged in:
Z was staring at him like he expected him to say something. Phury looked around. He’d fucked up badly he knew that, but that was about all he knew.
“I’m sorry,” He said, lamely. And he was, for so many things.
“You’re not going to ask about your girlfriend?” Z asked in that way that tells you the person asking the question has the answer and you don’t.
“Cormia?” No, he hadn’t been planning on asking about her.
“Well, she and John both survived your big adventure, no thanks to you, of course.”
“What? What happened?” Alarm shot through Phury. What had he done?
Zsadist told him. Pulled no punches, cushioned no pain.
“Where is she?” Phury tried to push himself up from prone but that wasn’t happening. He felt like a fish out of water, flopping around on a shore of silk.
“She’s on the Other Side where she’s safe … from you.” Now that was just uncalled … damn, it was called for.
“John?”
“Pissed off, grinding his teeth together and punching inanimate objects. He wants to kick your ass. He’s just waiting for his posse to turn their backs so he can do it.”
“I don’t remember,” How pathetic did that sound?
“Not surprised, considering you were dead at the time.” Z couldn’t even look at him. Shit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night at Zero Sum.
Xhex sat at the security console viewing the screens with disinterest. All she could think about was the new ruby deal. Trez was taking care of the negotiations, but she had a bad feeling. What had happened to Villeroel? Any number of things could have occurred, the guy was a criminal, after all. Damn him for getting himself disappeared.
And if it had been a police matter that took him away, should she be expecting Interpol at her doorstep any moment? Ha! As if she weren’t always looking over her shoulder for someone to take her down already.
The alley camera shifted from street angle to a shot of the brick wall at the inner end. Often dealers would sell out there amongst the bricks and dumpsters and they’d need their asses kicked. After what Rehvenge had told her about Phury …
Well think of the devil. The warrior walked listlessly into frame. He wasn’t dressed in his usual designer style, he was dressed in white. Some sort of religious getup with flowing pants and a loose top that wrapped around and tied like a karate gi. The pants were short enough she could see the titanium bar that passed for his right shin and the top of the hinge connecting the “foot” to the bar. They disappeared under some kind of soft foot covering. Definitely not city wear. She hadn’t known he was an amputee.
The warrior leaned his back against the wall of the alley. Was he trying to make a buy? In Rehv’s backyard? Not a good idea.
She tapped her earpiece to connect with Trez. He responded immediately and she told him what she was seeing. The background curse told her Trez had been with Rehvenge at the time and now she’d get to deal with that drama. Great.
The two males appeared by her side in moments and watched the scene unravel. The warrior hadn’t done anything besides lean against the wall. His posture was slumped. His arms wrapped around his midsection like he was hugging himself or, more likely, trying not to throw up.
He sank to the filthy floor of the alley, crossing his legs under him. His head hung wearily on his shoulders and his hands gripped the fabric over his knees. Imperceptibly at first, he started to move. Rocking. Moving subtly, the rhythm steady, gaining strength.
“What’s he doing?” Trez asked.
“He doesn’t seem to be looking for a dealer.” Xhex put in.
“Praying.” Rehvenge had seen that posture too many times in his younger life. His mother would do the same thing after a beating from her hellren. The similarity was a spike to Rehv’s gut.
“Rehvenge,” Xhex’s voice held a warning. She knew he was feeling something more for this addict than he should. “Call the Brotherhood and have someone pick him up. This is not your business.”
Rehv watched the screen.
“I used to be able to decide my business for myself.” He said softly.
Xhex clamped her lips shut and the two of them glared at each other in silent communication.
“What’s that?” Trez asked, still watching the screen.
Another white-clad figure had entered the shot, kneeling in front of the warrior. At the approach, Phury’s head jerked up and he struggled quickly to his feet.
“Shit!” Rehvenge started toward the alley door.
“What?” Xhex was right behind him.
“That’s a Chosen. What the fuck is she doing in my alley?” He growled.
“Hold on, Rehvenge,” they were in way over their heads. Xhex pulled out her phone to call the Brotherhood.
Rehv ignored her and pounded through the door. In seconds he had the warrior and the Chosen ushered into the club and was walking them through quickly.
“I wasn’t buying,” Phury said, not looking at Rehvenge.
“I know, but you can’t hang out in the alley with a Chosen. It just isn’t done.” Rehvenge chanced a little humor, placing his palm in the middle of the Primale’s back and pressing lightly. Rehv was so relieved to see him he was nearly giddy with it.
And his touch didn’t get his wrist broken. That was good.
“I don’t know why she came.” Phury still wouldn’t look at him.
“We’ll ask her when we get to my office,” Rehvenge said quietly, feeling the warrior relax under his hand.
On the other side of the office door, he motioned to a chair for the Chosen and Phury leaned against the wall.
“Chosen,” Rehvenge bowed to the angelic blonde female.
“Cormia,” she cut in. “I’m called Cormia.”
“What are you doing here?” Phury asked.
“I saw you in the bowls. You were in distress.” She shrugged delicately and her chin took a stubborn tilt.
“You shouldn’t have come, it was dangerous.” Phury scolded.
“No less for you than for me.” She countered.
“Cormia, I’m a danger to you. I almost got you killed this morning. If you came to me and a lesser ended up in that alley … I don’t known if I could protect you as screwed up as I am right now. Don’t you think I’ve hurt you enough?”
Rehvenge was fascinated. Couldn’t look away. Did the Primale love this Chosen? His mate? He shouldn’t feel a flash of jealousy but damn it, he did.
“As you see, I’m fine. So, I suppose the answer to your question is ‘no, you haven’t hurt me enough’.”
“Maybe you should sit down,” Rehv suggested to Phury. The warrior was shaking, his teeth beginning to chatter even though he was trying to hide it.
Phury shook his head, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. He still looked like someone was slamming him with a constant barrage of electric shocks. His skin was gray and slick with perspiration. The tremors, the teeth knocking together, the pallid complexion all added up to one crappy thing.
“You need to lie down, you’re sick.” Rehvenge made a move toward Phury who smashed himself back against the wall.
“Stay away from me!” The wild yellow eyes showed knowledge and fear.
“You know what’s happening, don’t you?” Rehvenge kept coming, but slowly. Very slowly. He didn’t want to put the Chosen in danger by sparking a fight, but neither did he want to get his ass kicked by a Brother. Slow was a good way to go.
The warrior nodded.
“How long has it been since you smoked?” Rehv asked softly as he continued his careful approach.
“I don’t know,” the bronze brow furrowed. “Um … a day and a half. That wouldn’t …”
“It might. What’s the longest you’ve gone without before?”
“Twelve hours give or take. I mean, in the past 30 years or so.” He managed to answer despite convulsive swallowing and shuddering. Damn, the warrior was a wreck. Falling apart right before their eyes.
“Why don’t you come lay down?” Rehvenge held out his hand.
Phury’s eyes went wide and he shook his head hard. Panicking.
“You won’t get anymore smoke from me. No drugs at all.”
“I … “ he looked around the room like a trapped animal, “I … don’t …” More tremors, “Don’t …”
And then he collapsed in a heap on the floor. A big, shaking, too-fucking-strong, heap that would have to be moved.
Cormia cried out and dropped to the primale’s side. Rehvenge grabbed her and pulled her away before a big arm swiped the exact place where she’d knelt a second before.
“Stay back,” Rehv hissed to the Chosen. “I’m going to help him.”
Miraculously, the female settled down. Rehvenge stalked behind Phury, grabbed under his arms and pulled him up to a full nelson.
“Open that door in that alcove over there,” he told Cormia, his voice tight with effort. Fucking hell the warrior was strong.
Rehvenge whispered reassurances that he would see it through even though he doubted Phury could comprehend what he was saying at that point.
“Don’t … “ Phury’s jaw locked tight and his breath rushed in and out harshly. His torso contracted and he groaned with pain. Rehv held on even as he paused to give them both a break.
“Don’t want … “ Another pained gasp, “I … want … to be … clean.” He finally wheezed and stopped fighting for a moment.
“No drugs, Phury. No more. This is it.” Rehvenge gently promised.
Cormia had opened the door and she held it as they lumbered past. Her eyes were glistening with tears, watching every move the warrior made. Her mate. Rehvenge cursed himself for his proprietary feelings for Phury. Vows had been made. They couldn’t just be undone … assuming the primale would ever even want them undone. Rehv had gotten ahead of himself again. He’d kick his own ass later.
Rehv let Phury flop down on the bed. The ceremonial garb he was wearing was fairly jammie-like so he didn’t remove any clothes. Disappointment warred with practicality.
“Watch him,” Rehvenge told Cormia, “I’m just going into the kitchen to get a few supplies.”
“Alright.” She sat on the edge of the bed where the warrior twitched.
Rehvenge hurried to the kitchen, knowing the respite would be short.
He’d just piled a bag of ice and several cloths into a big ceramic serving bowl when he heard a few thumps and some loud, senseless chatter.
He returned to the room in time to see the Chosen climb atop the flailing body of the primale as if she could somehow subdue him with her tiny frame. Not likely. If the situation hadn’t been so fucked up he’d have laughed at the image.
It especially wasn’t funny when her mountain-climbing antics caused the warrior such emotional distress that he actually screamed. Let loose language so foul Rehv wanted to take notes. The Chosen held on but, after a few hard yanks, Rehv managed to pull her off.
“Stop!” She raced back toward the bed like a mother about to lift a car off her baby and Rehv physically sat her in a chair in the corner.
“Be still! You’re not helping!” He growled at her, hoping to intimidate and happy that he did. Still, she wasn’t afraid for her own life she was afraid for the life of the primale. This was going to be a bitch of a night.
Phury had made his way to his feet and he looked at Rehvenge with hate-filled eyes that burned from his core. Eyes that saw something other than the reality before him. He launched himself toward Rehv, teeth bared. Rehv stepped aside, caught the warrior in mid-air, swung him around and pushed him back onto the bed, his palm pushing hard on the middle of the forehead to keep the male down.
Rehvenge cursed as the pictures came. He pushed harder, not wanting the movie version. Not wanting any version of the warrior’s life. It sucked, seeing these things. The horrible neglect and abuse. The unearned shame. He saw the past through the warrior’s eyes and it sucked.
Images hit Rehv’s mind. Quick, like cards shuffled from a deck. Some he caught and some he didn’t but he hadn’t wanted to see any of this. He hadn’t wanted to identify with Phury’s suffering. To experience rejection and loneliness so similar to his own. He hadn’t wanted to see …
“You’re hurting him!” the teensy virago decided now was a good time to leap on his back. Rehv almost hurled her across the room himself.
Keeping the one hand on Phury’s forehead, Rehv peeled Cormia off his back until she landed on the floor at his feet. Tears streamed down her face and he felt bad for the flash fantasy he’d had of ripping her pretty head off her dainty body.
“You’re hurting him!” She cried from the floor.
“I’m calming him,” Rehvenge informed her firmly, “if anything he’s hurting me.”
And before he knew it the horrible show was over and the warrior was out like a light. He’d done the forehead trick before. When he’d pulled Xhex out of the clinic she was wild from pain and trauma. He’d needed her calm to get her out and away from the guarded facility. Normally he could look into and/or control someone’s mind without contact, but the truly wild need some focal point. The forehead works great because it’s a control spot. Start there and it all trickles down.
The downside is that you’re hit with images you’d rather not have in your mental photo library. Rehvenge really could have done without experiencing the warrior’s lustful thoughts toward Bella. Luckily that was only a blip, but … he shook himself like a wet dog. Nobody would want to remember what he’d just experienced. Any of it.
“He’ll sleep for a while. You’ll take some food.” It wasn’t a request, nor was it an invitation. He made a call.
“What did you do?” She asked, infinite distrust in her eyes.
“I … well, I’m not sure. I calmed him. That’s all.” Rehvenge had to get away from her, but the apartment was too small and he wasn’t leaving Phury.
“Could anyone do it? Could I?”
“No.”
The distrust in her eyes gathered darkly like clouds in thunderstorm.
“I will go back to him now.” She declared and turned on her heel. Rehvenge would have liked to hate her, but he found her perversely endearing.
“Rehv,” Xhex’s voice actually startled him.
“What?” He replied grumpily.
“I called the Brotherhood to come get him and,” she hesitated before continuing, “He’s persona non grata. ‘Do with him as you see fit’ was their final word before they hung up on me.”
Those hypocritical bastards!
Even as Rehv bristled with indignation, he understood what they were doing. Still, if you think your friend smokes or drinks too much … then don’t smoke or drink with him. How many times had his club served Brothers?
Rehv glanced in the mirror, keenly aware of the irony in his outrage.
“Who did you talk to?” He growled.
“I don’t know. Male, deep voice, could’ve been any of them.” She shrugged.
“Okay, we’ll deal with it ourselves.”
“Why? Rehvenge, do you really need to get involved in this right now?”
“No, Xhex, there are a million things I’d rather be doing,” he replied sarcastically, “just like there might have been things the Brotherhood would rather have been doing when they saved my sister’s life.”
“This one’s kicked out though,” it wasn’t like Xhex to be so dense when she was clearly on shaky ground.
“I am related by marriage to his twin,” Rehvenge said slowly and evenly, a sure sign he was getting royally pissed, “I know him well enough to know there is at least one Brother who cares very much what happens to this male. To let him down would be to let Bella down. I will never do that.”
“Sorry,” she meant it, he could tell, “I’m just worried about you.”
“Thank you,” Rehvenge said and squeezed her shoulder. He turned back to the room where the warrior now lay quietly.
“What should we do about the Chosen?” Xhex asked.
“I’ll try to convince her to go back to the Other Side. I think that’s safest for her.”
“Good call. I’ll talk to her if you want me to.”
Rehvenge looked at Xhex.
“Not threateningly!” She exclaimed, offended by his silent censure. “She might listen to a female is all I’m saying. Damn!” She stomped out.
Good idea. He’d send Xhex in later to see if she could convince Cormia to leave. And he’d apologize for assuming violence when Xhex made the offer. He really needed to have more faith in that female.
He stopped at the doorway to the bedroom and looked at the warrior sleeping soundly on the bed, and Cormia sitting in the chair she’d pulled over to the bedside. The primale would wake up eventually and go crazy again, but Rehv would be here for it. He’d see him through.
Was it really a good idea to have the Chosen leave? Was there really a safety issue for her? Or did he just want Phury to himself? He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wasn’t ashamed. Nobody can help the way they feel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inevitable note: Sorry this took me so long. It’s a really long chapter, as you can see. I just didn’t know where to break it up. I’ll start the next one tonight.
Inevitable soundtrack: Nickleback's "Savin' Me" and Linkin Park's "Breaking the Habit"
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