• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

I thought he was being careful with the way he touched the baby clothes because of what they were, but in fact, he treats all the merchandise with the same respect. He looks like a straight-up killer, and his expression is as dark as the black in his eyes, but his hands are never rough. If he picks something up off a shelf or a rack or a display and doesn’t want it, he returns it where it was. And if he finds a sweater that’s just been crammed back into a stack or a book that’s been misshelved by another customer or a shirt that’s cockeyed on a hanger, he rights it.

Z has a kind soul. At heart, he’s just like Phury.

We go to check out, and the twenty-year-old guy who’s manning the cash register looks up at Z like the Brother is a god. As I watch all of the items being scanned, I realize the purpose of the trip is not just to get the things, but to send a message. These items are his interview. He’s telling me how much he loves Nalla and Bella and his Brothers. How grateful he is.

J.R.:

(softly) The red scarf’s for Beth, right?

Z:

(shrugs and takes out a black wallet) Yeah.

Ah . . . because a present for Beth is a present for Wrath. And I bet the Armor All is for the three boys to massage Qhuinn’s Hummer with. But there’s nothing for . . .

Z:

There’s nothing to get him. There’s nothing he wants, and a gift would make him feel worse.

Tohr. God, Tohr . . .

After Z pays with a black AmEx, we walk past the security guard, who looks at the red-and-white bags like he has X-ray vision and there could be guns in them—even though the store doesn’t sell click-click-bang-bangs.

Outside, I help Z put his purchases in the minuscule backseat of the Porsche. They overflow, and I end up sitting with some at my feet and on my lap.

We’re silent the whole ride home, until we get to the mhis that surrounds the compound. As the landscape blurs again, I look over at Z.

J.R.:

Thank you for taking me.

There’s a pause, one that lasts so long, I figure there’s going to be no response. But then he downshifts as we come up to the mansion’s gates.

Z:

(glancing over and nodding once) Thank you for coming along.

Lover Awakened

The People:

Zsadist

Bella

Phury

John Matthew

Rehvenge

Mr. O

Mr. X

Mr. U(stead)

Wellsie

Tohr

Sarelle, Wellsie’s cousin

Lash, son of Ibex

Qhuinn, son of Lohstrong

Blaylock, son of Rocke

Catronia (Z’s Mistress when he was a blood slave)

Places of Interest (all in Caldwell, NY, unless otherwise noted):

The Brotherhood mansion—undisclosed location

Bella’s farmhouse—private road off Route 22

Lessening Society persuasion center—east from Big Notch Mountain, thirty-minute drive from downtown

Tohr and Wellsie’s home

Rehvenge’s family home

ZeroSum (comer of Trade and Tenth streets)

Summary:

Zsadist, a former blood slave and the most feared member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood, finds love as he rescues a beautiful aristocratic female from the obsessive hold of a violent lesser.

Craft comments:

I think with Z, I’ll start with something from Dark Lover. This is from the beginning of the book, when Wrath has called the Brotherhood together following Darius’s assassination by the Fore-lesser, Mr. X. Zsadist makes his arrival, so to speak, thusly:

The front door swung open, and Zsadist strode into the house.

Wrath glared. “Nice of you to show up, Z. Busy tonight with the females?”

“How about you get off my dick?” Zsadist went over to the corner, staying away from the rest.

—DARK LOVER, p. 30

When I first saw Zsadist walk into that house like that, I assumed he was an antagonist. Had to be. His vibe was too legitimately fuck-off for him to be a hero. And then the impression he made got even worse with this scene of Beth waking up to find him with her:

The man towering over her had black, lifeless eyes. A harsh face with a jagged scar running down it. Hair that was practically shaved it was so short. And long,