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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
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