The Black Dagger Brotherhood_ An Insider's Guide - J. R. Ward [179]
Wellsie gets into the back of the Range Rover, seat-belts herself in, and when Tohr settles John in her lap, she cradles the boy to her. As the door is shut, she looks up at me through the window’s glass, her face and red hair obscured by the reflection of the wall of the garage behind me. Our eyes meet and she lifts up her hand. I lift up mine.
Tohr:
(to me) You all right here? You know how to reach me.
J.R.:
Oh, I’m fine.
Tohr:
Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Remotes for the TV in the den are right by my chair.
J.R.:
Okay. Drive safely, and let me know how he is?
Tohr:
We will.
Tohr puts his huge palm on my shoulder for a brief moment before he gets behind the wheel, puts the SUV in reverse, and backs out into the storm. The chains rattle on the concrete floor of the garage until they reach the lip of the snow; then all I hear is the deep growl of the engine and the crunch of millions of tiny flakes compacting under the tires.
Tohr K-turns and heads out, triggering the garage door. As the panels trundle shut, I have a last image of the Range Rover, its taillights flaring red through the billowing snow.
I go back into the house. Shut the door behind me. Listen.
The silence is scary. Not because I think there’s someone else in the house. But because the people who should be here are gone.
I go into the living room, sit down on one of the silk couches, and wait by the windows, as if maybe being able to see where Fritz is going to pull up will mean he comes a little faster. My parka’s in my lap and my boots are back on.
It seems like years until the Mercedes turns into the drive. I get to my feet, go to the front door as instructed, and step out. As I pivot around to lock up, I look way down the hall, to the stove where Wellsie had been cooking about a half hour ago. The pot that had John’s rice in it is where she left the thing, and so is the spoon she used.
I’m willing to bet that on a normal night, those things would never be left out like that. Wellsie keeps a tight ship.
I signal to Fritz that I need a sec; then I race back to the kitchen, clean the pot and the spoon, and put them to dry next to the sink because I don’t know where they belong. This time when I go out the front door, I lock it behind me. After a quick test to make sure I did it right, I piff through the snow toward the sedan. Fritz comes around and holds my door open for me, and just before I slide into all that leather, I look at the house. The glow from the windows doesn’t seem welcoming anymore . . . it strikes me now as if the light is plaintive. The house is waiting for them all to come back, so that its roof shelters more than just inanimate objects. Without its people? It’s merely a museum full of artifacts.
I get into the back of the sedan, and the butler takes us out into the storm. He drives carefully, just as I know Tohr did.
Excerpt from Lover Avenged
From the # 1 New York Times bestselling author of the BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD series comes a sneak preview of her hardcover debut
Lover Avenged
On sale May 2009
REHVENGE, AS A HALF-BREED SYMPHATH, is used to living in the shadows and hiding his true identity. As a club owner and a dealer on the black market, he’s also used to handling the roughest nightwalkers around—including the members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. He’s kept his distance from the Brotherhood, since his dark secret could make things complicated on both sides—but now, as head of the vampire aristocracy, he’s an ally that Wrath, the Blind King, desperately needs. Rehv’s secret is about to get out, though, which will land him in the hands of his deadly enemies—and test the mettle of his female, turning her from a civilian into a vigilante. . . .
As bad ones went, her father’s paranoia attack