J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [312]
Cormia said a good-bye of sorts and left for her own bedroom, deep in thought.
When she turned the corner next to Wrath’s study, she stopped. As if she’d summoned him, the Primale was at the head of the great stairwell, looming large and looking exhausted.
His eyes clung to her.
He must hunger for news of Bella, she thought. “She’s feeling better, but I think she’s hiding something. The Brother Zsadist has just gone for Doc Jane.”
“Good. I’m glad. Thank you for watching over her.”
“It was my pleasure. She’s lovely.”
The Primale nodded; then his eyes traced over her from her hair, which was up high on her head, to her bare feet. It was as if he were reacquainting himself with her, as if he hadn’t been around her for ages.
“What ugliness have you witnessed since you left?” she whispered.
“Why do you ask?”
“You stare at me as if it has been weeks since you saw me. What have you seen?”
“You read me well.”
“About as well as you avoid my question.”
He smiled. “Which would be very well, huh.”
“You don’t have to speak of—”
“I saw more death. Avoidable death. Such a damn waste. This war is evil.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” She wanted to take his hand. Instead, she said, “Would you . . . join me in the garden? I was going to walk among the roses for a bit before the sun comes.”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Of course.” She bowed to avoid his eyes. “Your grace.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.” She gathered her robing and walked quickly to the stairs he had just mounted.
“Cormia.”
“Yes?”
As she looked over her shoulder, his eyes bored into hers. They burned in a way that took her back to the two of them on the floor in his bedroom, and her heart leaped to her throat.
Except then he merely shook his head. “Nothing. Just stay safe.”
As Cormia went down the stairs, Phury headed for the hall of statues and the first of the windows that looked out over the back garden.
Going with her to see the roses was so not an option. He was raw right now, stripped of his skin, though he still wore his suit of flesh. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those bodies in the clinic’s corridor and the scared faces in that medicine closet and the bravery of those who shouldn’t have had to fight for their lives.
If he hadn’t stopped to help Bella up the stairs and then gone to find Zsadist, maybe those civilians wouldn’t have been saved. Sure as hell, no one would have called him as backup, because he wasn’t a Brother anymore.
Down below, Cormia emerged on the terrace, her white robe glowing against the dark gray stone pavers. She drifted over to the roses and bent at the waist to bring her nose to the blooms. He could almost hear her breath going in and the sigh of contentment she’d release as the fragrance registered.
His thoughts shifted from the ugliness of war to the beauty of the female form.
And to what males did with females in between satin sheets.
Yeah, it was a big no on being around Cormia right now. He wanted to replace the death and suffering he’d seen tonight with something else, something alive and warm and all about the body, not the head. As he watched his First Mate lavish her attentions on the rosebushes, he wanted her naked and writhing and slick with sweat underneath him.
Ah . . . but she wasn’t his First Mate any longer, was she.
Shit.
The wizard’s voice drifted through his head. Could you honestly have done right by her, though? Made her happy? Kept her safe? You spend a good twelve hours a day smoking. Could you light up blunt after blunt in front of her and have her watch you wilt into your pillows and nod off? You want her to see that?
Do you want her dragging you back into the house at dawn, like you did for your father?
Would you hit her in frustration someday, too?
“No!” he said out loud.
Oh, really? Your father said that to you. Didn’t he, mate. Promised you right to your face that he