J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [174]
As far as he was concerned, she put the itch in bitch.
“Hey, Vishous,” she said in a low, sexy voice.
“Evenin’, Caith.” V took a sip of his Grey Goose. “What up?”
“Wondering what you’re doing.”
Rhage looked around Caith’s hips. Thank God the blonde wasn’t put off by a little competition. She was still coming toward the table.
“You going to say hello, Rhage?” Caith prompted.
“Only if you get out of the way. You’re blocking my view.”
The female laughed. “Another of your cast of thousands. How lucky she is.”
“You wish, Caith.”
“Yes, I do.” Her eyes, predatory and hot, glided over him. “Maybe you’d like to hang with Vishous and me?”
As she reached out to stroke his hair, he caught her wrist. “Don’t even try it.”
“How is it you’ll do so many humans and deny me?”
“Just not interested.”
She leaned down, talking into his ear. “You should try me sometime.”
He jerked her away from him, tightening his hand on her bones.
“That’s right, Rhage, squeeze harder. I like it when it hurts.” He let go immediately, and she smiled while rubbing her wrist. “So are you busy, V?”
“I’m settling in right now. But maybe a little later.”
“You know where to find me.”
When she left, Rhage glanced over at his brother. “I don’t know how you can stand her.”
V tossed back his vodka, watching the female with hooded eyes. “She has her attributes.”
The blonde arrived, stopping in front of Rhage and striking a little pose. He put both hands on her hips and pulled her forward so she straddled his thighs.
“Hi,” she said, moving against his hold. She was busy looking him over, sizing up his clothes, eyeing the heavy gold Rolex peeking out from under his trench coat’s sleeve. The calculation in her eyes was as cold as the center of his chest.
God, if he could have left he would have; he was so sick of this shit. But his body needed the release, demanded it. He could feel his drive rising, and as always, that god-awful burn left his dead heart in the dust.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tiffany.”
“Nice to meet you, Tiffany,” he said, lying.
Less than ten miles away, at Mary’s pool in her backyard, she, John, and Bella were having a surprisingly jolly time.
Mary laughed out loud and looked at John. “You’re not serious.”
It’s true. I shuttled back and forth between the theaters.
“What did he say?” Bella asked, grinning.
“He saw The Matrix four times the day it opened.”
The woman laughed. “John, I’m sorry to break this to you, but that’s pathetic.”
He beamed at her, blushing a little.
“Did you get into the whole Lord of the Rings thing, too?” she asked.
He shook his head, signed, and looked expectantly at Mary.
“He says he likes martial arts,” she translated. “Not elves.”
“Can’t blame him there. That whole hairy feet thing? Can’t do it.”
A gust of wind came up, teasing fallen leaves into the pool. As they floated by, John reached out and grabbed one.
“What’s that on your wrist?” Mary asked.
John held his arm out so she could inspect the leather bracelet. There were orderly markings on it, some kind of cross between hieroglyphics and Chinese characters.
“That’s gorgeous.”
I made it.
“May I see?” Bella asked, leaning over. Her smile disintegrated and her eyes narrowed on John’s face. “Where did you get this?”
“He says he made it.”
“Where did you say you’re from?”
John retracted his arm, clearly a little unnerved by Bella’s sudden focus.
“He lives here,” Mary said. “He was born here.”
“Where are his parents?”
Mary faced her friend, wondering why Bella was so intense. “He doesn’t have any.”
“None?”
“He told me he grew up in the foster-care system, right, John?”
John nodded and cradled his arm against his stomach, protecting the bracelet.
“Those markings,” Bella prompted. “Do you know what they mean?”
The boy shook his head and then winced and rubbed his temples. After a moment, his hands signed slowly.
“He says they don’t mean anything,” Mary murmured. “He just dreams of them and