J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [423]
This was the flip side of the parent/child relationship. Where the son worried about the father.
Assuming he and Tohr still had that whole connection going on.
He wasn’t sure. The Brother had stared at him like he was a stranger.
John’s foot ticked off the seconds, and he rubbed his palms on his thighs. Strange, everything else that had happened, even the stuff with Lash, seemed unreal and unimportant. There was only the now with Tohr.
When the door opened nearly an hour later, he went still.
Tohr was wearing a robe, and his hair was mostly detangled, though the beard was still ragged.
In that loose, unreliable shuffle, the Brother went back to the bed and stretched out with a groan, settling awkwardly into the pillows.
Is there anything I can—
“This is not where I wanted to end up, John. I’m not going to front. This is not . . . where I want to be.”
Okay, John signed. Okay.
As silence stretched, in his mind, he had the conversation he wanted to have with Tohr: Qhuinn and Blay ended up here, and Qhuinn’s parents are dead, and Lash is . . . I don’t know what to say about him. . . . There’s a female I like, but she’s out of my league, and I’m in the war and I missed you and I want you to be proud of me and I’m scared and I miss Wellsie and are you all right?
And most important . . . Please say you’re not leaving again. Ever. I need you.
Instead, he rose to his feet and signed, I guess I’ll leave you to rest. If you need anything—
“I’m tight.”
Okay. Yeah. Okay . . .
John pulled at the hem of his T-shirt and turned away. As he walked to the door, he couldn’t breathe.
Oh, please let him not run into anyone on the way to his room—
“John.”
He stopped. Pivoted back around.
As he met Tohr’s weary navy blue stare, John felt like his knees were having an out-of-socket experience.
Tohr closed his eyes and opened his arms.
John ran to the bed and grabbed on to his father for everything he was worth. He buried his face in what was once a broad chest and listened to the heart that still beat inside of it. Of the two of them he held on harder, not because Tohr didn’t care, but because he hadn’t the strength.
They both cried until there was no more breath with which to wail.
Chapter Fifty-two
Triggers didn’t have to be on guns to be trouble, Phury thought as he stared at ZeroSum’s glass-and-steel facade.
Shit, detox was about the body banging through a shift in chemistry. It didn’t do jack dick for the cravings that were in your head. And, sure the wizard was smaller than him, but the bastard still hadn’t left. And Phury had the sense it was going to be a long while before the voice did.
With a kick to his own ass, he walked up to the bouncer, who gave him an odd look, but let him in. Inside, he didn’t pay any attention to the crowd, which as usual parted to make way for him. He didn’t nod at the bouncer standing at the velvet rope in front of the VIP section. He didn’t say anything to iAm, who let him into Rehv’s office.
“To what do I owe this pleasure,” Rehvenge said from behind his desk.
Phury stared at his dealer.
Rehv was wearing a standard-issue black suit about which there was nothing standard. The fit was gorgeous, even though the male was sitting down, and the fabric gleamed under the low lights, a clear indication that there was a bit of silk in the weave. The lapels lay perfectly flat on a powerful chest, and the sleeves showed precisely the right amount of shirt cuff.
Rehv frowned. “I can feel your emotions from here. You’ve done something.”
Phury had to laugh. “Yeah, you might say that. And I’m on the way to Wrath’s now, because I have some serious ’splainin’ to do. I came here first, though, because my shellan and I need a place to stay.”
Rehvenge’s brows shot up over his amethyst eyes. “Shellan ? Wow. Not Chosen anymore?”
“No.” Phury cleared his throat. “Look, I know you have houses. Like, multiples. I want to know if I can rent