J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [136]
“You have a place here?” she asked, even though it was self-evident.
“Top floor’s mine. Well, half of it.” They got in a service elevator and stood on worn linoleum under caged lights. “I wish I could take you in the front way, but that’s too public.”
There was a lurch as the lift engaged, and she reached out for the elevator wall. V caught her upper arm first, holding her steady, and he didn’t let go. She didn’t want him to.
V remained tense when they came to a jerking halt and the elevator opened. The plain hallway was nothing special, with just two doors and a stairway exit to give it purpose. The ceiling was high but not ornate, and the carpeting was the kind of low-napped, multicolored variety she recognized from the hospital’s waiting rooms.
“I’m down here.”
She followed him to the end of the corridor and was surprised to see him take out a gold key to unlock the door.
Whatever was on the other side was pitch-black, but she went inside with him without fear. Hell, she felt like she could walk into a firing squad with him by her side and come out all right. Plus, the place smelled nice, like lemon, as if it had recently been cleaned.
He didn’t turn on any lights. Just took her hand and urged her forward with a tug.
“I can’t see anything.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing will hurt you, and I know the way.”
She hung onto his palm and wrist and shuffled along behind him until he stopped. With the way their footsteps echoed, she had a sense of great space, but no idea of the contours of the penthouse.
He turned her to face to the right and then stepped away.
“Where are you going?” She swallowed hard.
A candle flared over in the far corner, some forty feet away from her. It didn’t illuminate much, however. The walls…the walls and the ceiling and…the floor…it was black. All black. As was the candle.
V stepped into the lee of the light, nothing but a looming shadow.
Jane’s heart pounded.
“You asked about the scars between my legs,” he said. “How they happened.”
“Yes…” she whispered. So that was why he wanted everything dark as night. He wasn’t going to want her to see his face.
Another candle came on, this one on the opposite side of what she realized was a vast room.
“My father had it done to me. Right after I almost killed him.”
Jane inhaled sharply. “Oh…God.”
Vishous stared at Jane but saw only the past and what had come after him taking his father down to the ground.
“Bring me my blade,” the Bloodletter said.
V fought against the soldier who was holding his arms and got nowhere. As he struggled two more males appeared. Then another pair. Now three others.
The Bloodletter spat on the ground as someone put a black dagger into his hand, and V braced himself for the stabbing that was coming…except the Bloodletter just streaked the blade across his palm, then sheathed the knife in his belt. Bringing both hands together, he rubbed them one against the other, then slammed his right one into the center of V’s chest.
V looked down at the print on his skin. Expulsion. Not death. But why?
The Bloodletter’s voice was hard. “You shall be ever unknown to those who dwell herein. And death shall come to any who aid you.”
The soldiers started to let Vishous go.
“Not yet. Bring him into the camp.” The Bloodletter turned away. “And get the blacksmith. It is incumbent upon us to warn others of this male’s evil nature.”
V bucked wildly as another soldier swept up his legs and he was carried like a carcass into the cave.
“Behind the screen,” the Bloodletter told the blacksmith. “We shall do this afore the painted wall.”
The male blanched, but took his rough wooden tray of tools around the partition. Meanwhile, V was laid out on his back with a soldier at the end of each of his limbs and one holding his hips down.
The Bloodletter stood over V, his hands dripping bright red. “Mark him.”
The blacksmith looked up. “In what manner, great one?”
The Bloodletter spelled out the warnings in