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Wrath was six feet, six inches of pure terror dressed in leather. His hair was long and black, falling straight from a widow’s peak. Wraparound sunglasses hid eyes that no one had ever seen revealed. Shoulders were twice the size of most males’. With a face that was both aristocratic and brutal, he looked like the king he was by birthright and the soldier he’d become by destiny. And that wave of menace rolling ahead of him was one hell of a calling card.
Screamer’s in particular catered to a scary-ass clientele. That was one door she wouldn’t go through without a police escort.
Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge.
Vishous came into the room. The goatee he’d recently grown made him seem even more sinister than usual, although the tattoo around his left eye was what really put him into ominous territory. Tonight his Red Sox hat was pulled down tight so the complex markings on his temple barely showed. As always, his black driving glove, used to keep his left hand from inadvertently making contact with anyone, was in place.
Rhage was a towering male, big, powerful, stronger than all the other warriors. He was also a sex legend in the vampire world, Hollywood beautiful with the drive to rival a barnful of stallions. Females, vampire and human alike, would trample their own young to get at him.
Phury was the last, walking through the front door with his limp barely noticeable. His prosthetic lower leg had recently been updated, and he was sporting a state-of-the-art titanium-and-carbon composite number now. The combination of rods, joints, and bolts was screwed into the base of his right shitkicker.
Z was one giant, violent fuck-you to the world. A walking, sometimes talking, usually cursing SOB who took hatred, especially toward females, to new levels. Fortunately, between his scarred face and his skull-trimmed hair, he looked as scary as he was, so folks tended to get out of his way.
Hands down, Z was the most dangerous of the brothers. After what he’d been put through, he didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. Including his twin.
the Black Dagger Brotherhood was a hell of a group. All that stood between the civilian vampire population and the lessers.
If I haven’t spoken to you already, ask Tohrment for details. Eleven eighty-eight Redd Avenue, apartment one-B. Her name is Elizabeth Randall. P.S. The house and Fritz are yours if she doesn’t survive to adulthood. Sorry it had to end so soon. D.’”
Wrath felt his breath catch as her scent came to him. She smelled positively beautiful. Like a rich flower. Night-blooming roses, maybe. He dragged more air into his lungs and closed his eyes as his body reacted, his blood stirring.
Beth Randall was flat-out, hands-down gorgeous. She had long, thick black hair, impossibly bright blue eyes, skin like pale cream, a mouth just made for a man’s kiss. And she was built. Long legs, small waist, perfectly proportioned breasts.
He had to honor his brother’s last request. He owed the male at least that for all the years they’d served the race together. Half-human or not, Darius’s daughter was never going to walk the night unprotected again. And she wasn’t going to go through her transition alone. God help her.
“Who are you?” she breathed in a whisper. “I’m here for you.”
That female was dangerous to him. If she could affect him like this without even being in the damn room, she might just be his pyrocant.
A low growl vibrated through his chest and out his mouth. She’s mine.
Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex.
“You don’t know this yet,” he said grimly. “But you are mine.”
As a fevered heat broke out all over his skin, his nose registered that dark fragrance of possession. He was powerless to stop himself.
Humans are threatened by anything different, and their response is to fight. They’re bullies, picking on the weak, cowering from the strong.”
Warriors did not beg. They rarely even asked. They took what they wanted and killed for it if they had to.
“Beth,” he whispered. “Come back to me.” He brought more of his blood to her. “Damn it, don’t you die!” Candles flared in the room. “I love you, damn you! Goddamn you, don’t you let go!”
“Will you have me as your hellren?” “What?” Her mind was having difficulty turning over. “Marry me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. He kissed her forehead. “Yes what, my leelan?” “I will marry you.”
“Hopefully, you won’t have to. Now tell me something. What’s your word for husband?” “Hellren, I suppose. The short version is just hell.” She laughed softly. “Go figure.”
“You know something, right before I met you I was looking for an adventure.” “Were you?” “And I got more than that. I got a past and a future. A whole…life. Sometimes I don’t know how to handle the good fortune. I just don’t know what to do with it all.”
