J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [423]
Phury knelt down and pressed his linen napkin into her hand. Which was how she realized there were tears running down her cheeks.
“Won’t you come join us?” he said softly.
She blotted her face while still holding on to the cat. “Any chance I can take him in with me?”
“Absolutely. Boo is always welcome at our table. And so are you.”
“I don’t have shoes on.”
“We don’t care.” He held out his hand. “Come on, Bella. Come join us.”
Zsadist walked into the foyer, so cold and stiff he shuffled along. He’d wanted to stay until the very dawn at the farmhouse, but his body hadn’t fared well in the frigid air.
Even though he wasn’t going to eat, he headed for the dining room, only to stop in the shadows. Bella was at the table, sitting next to Phury. There was a plate of food in front of her, but she was paying more attention to the cat in her lap. She was petting Boo, and didn’t miss a stroke as she looked up at something Phury said. She smiled, and when her head dropped again, Phury’s eyes stayed on her profile as if he were drinking her in.
Z walked quickly over to the stairs, not about to fall into that scene. He was almost free when Tohr emerged from the hidden door below the first landing. The brother looked grim, but then he never was a party.
“Hey, Z, hold up.”
Zsadist cursed, and not under his breath. He had no interest in getting waylaid by some policy-and-procedure shit, and that was all Tohr talked about lately. The guy was cracking down on the Brotherhood, organizing shifts, trying to turn four loose cannons like V, Phury, Rhage, and Z into soldiers. No wonder he always looked like his head hurt.
“Zsadist, I said, wait.”
“Not now—”
“Yeah, now. Bella’s brother sent a request to Wrath. Asking that she be assigned sehculsion status with him as her whard.”
Oh, shit. If that happened, Bella was as good as gone. Hell, she was as good as luggage. Not even the Brotherhood could keep her from her whard.
“Z? Did you hear what I said?”
Nod your head, asshole, he told himself.
He barely managed a chin dip. “But why are you telling me this?”
Tohr’s mouth tightened. “You want to front like she’s nothing to you? Fine. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Tohr headed for the dining room.
Z gripped the banister and rubbed his chest, feeling like someone had replaced the oxygen in his lungs with tar. He looked up the stairs and wondered if Bella would come back to his room before she left. She would have to, because her diary was there. She could leave her clothes behind, but not that journal. Unless, of course, she’d moved out already.
God… How would he tell her good-bye?
Man, there was one conversation to bail on. He couldn’t imagine what he’d say to her, especially after she’d seen him do his nasty magic all over that slayer.
Z went into the library, picked up one of the phones there, and dialed Vishous’s cell number by its pattern on the buttons. He heard the ring through the receiver as well as from across the foyer. When V answered, he told the Brother about the Explorer and the cell phone and the undercarriage antics.
“I’m on it,” V said. “But where are you? There’s a funky echo on the phone.”
“Call me if that car moves. I’ll be in the gym.” He hung up and headed for the underground tunnel.
He figured he could scrounge up some clothes down in the locker room and run himself into a state of utter depletion. When his thighs were screaming and his calves had turned to stone and his throat was sore from the gasping, the pain would clear his mind, cleanse him…. He craved the hurt more than he craved food.
When he got to the locker room, he went to the cubicle assigned to him and pulled out his Air Shox and a pair of running shorts. He preferred going shirtless