Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (163 page)

fact that his life was one big world-is-my-oyster sport.

“So tell me about this visitor of yours,” he said.

As he waited, his chin lowered, and he stared at her from under his lids.

So not a surprise he had killed someone.

She shrugged. “I have no idea. My grandmother just said the man had dark hair and deep-set

eyes….” She frowned, noticing that his irises were as always that moonlight color—the kind of thing that just didn’t seem possible in nature. Contacts? she wondered. “She—ah, she didn’t mention a

name, but he must have been polite—if he hadn’t been, I would have heard about it and then some. Oh

—and he spoke to her in Spanish.”

“Is there anyone who would be looking for you?”

Sola shook her head. “I don’t talk about this house—ever. Most people don’t even know my real

name. That’s why I thought it was you—who else…I mean, nobody else has ever come here but you.”

“There is no one in your past?”

Exhaling, she glanced around the kitchen; then scooped the napkins out of the caddy and

rearranged them. “I don’t know….”

With the life she led? It could be any number of people.

“Do you have a security alarm here?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You should assume he is dangerous until proven otherwise.”

“I agree.” As the man—Assail, that was, reached into his coat, she shook her head. “No cigars. I

told you—”

He made an exaggerated show of extracting a gold pen and holding it up. Then he took one of the

napkins she’d just fiddled with and wrote down a seven-digit phone number.

“You will call me if he comes again.” He slid the flat square across the table, but kept his

forefinger right by the numerals. “And I shall take care of it.”

Sola got up too fast, her chair squeaking. Instantly, she froze and looked to the ceiling. When there were no sounds from above, she reminded herself to keep it down.

She paced over to the stove quietly. Came back again. Paid a visit to the back door onto the

porch. Came back again. “Look, I don’t need your help. I appreciate it—”

As she turned around to take the route to the stove again, he was right in front of her. Gasping, she jumped—she hadn’t even heard him move—

His chair was in the same position it had been when he’d sat in it.

Not like hers, pushed aside.

“What…” She fell silent, her mind spinning. Surely, she was not about to ask him
what
he was—

As he reached out and cupped her face, she knew she would have had trouble saying no to

anything he suggested.

“You will call me,” he commanded, “and I shall come to you.”

The words were so low they nearly warped, his voice deep…so very deep.

Pride formed a protest in her brain, but her mouth refused to speak it. “All right,” she said.

Now he smiled, his lips curling upward. God, his canines were sharp, and longer than she

remembered.

“Marisol,” he purred. “A beautiful name.”

As he started to lean in to her, subtle pressure on her jaw lifted her chin. Oh, no, hell, no, she

should not be doing this. Not in this house. Not with a man like him…

Screw it. With a sigh of surrender, she closed her eyes and lifted her mouth to accept his—

“Sola! Sola, what you doing down there!”

They both froze—and instantly, Sola regressed to the age of thirteen.

“Nothing!” she called out.

“Who is with you?”

“No one—it’s the television!”

Three…two…one…“That does not sound like no TV!”

“Go,” she whispered as she pushed against his broad chest. “You have to leave now.”

Assail’s lids dropped low. “I think I want to meet her.”

“You don’t.”

“I do—”

“Sola! I’m coming down!”

“Go,” she hissed. “
Please.
”

Assail drew his thumb across her lower lip and leaned into her, speaking directly into her ear. “I

have plans to pick this up where we’ve been interrupted. Just so that you know.”

Turning away, he moved with frustrating leisure to the door. And even as her grandmother’s

slippers closed in down the stairs, he took the time to glance across his shoulder while he opened the way out.

His glowing eyes raked over her body. “This is not over between you and me.”

And then he was gone, thank the good Lord.

Her grandmother rounded the corner a split second after the exterior screen door clicked into

place. “Well?” she said.

Sola glanced over to the window by the table, reassuring herself that it was still dark as the inside of a hat out there. Yup. Good.

“See?” she said, sweeping her arms around the otherwise empty kitchen. “No one’s here.”

“The television is not on.”

Why, oh, why couldn’t her grandmother have the grace to get soft in the head like so many other

geriatrics?

“I turned it off because it was disturbing you.”

“Oh.” Suspicious eyes roamed about….

Shit. There was melting snow on the linoleum from where they’d tracked it in.

“Come on,” Sola said as she steered the woman into an about-face. “Enough upset for tonight. We

go to bed now.”

“I’m watching you, Sola.”

“I know, vovó.”

As they headed up the stairs together, part of her was wondering exactly who the hell had come

looking for her here and why. And the other half? Well, that part was still in the kitchen, on the verge of kissing that man.

Probably better that they had been interrupted.

She had the unmistakable impression that her protector…was also a predator.

The phone call Xcor had been waiting for came at a most opportune time. He had just finished

stalking and killing a lone slayer under the bridges downtown, and was cleaning his lady love, the

black blood on the blade of the scythe coming off easily as he ran a chamois cloth up and down.

He put his female away on his back first, and only then took out his phone. As he answered, he

looked over at his fighters as they gathered together and talked of the night’s fighting in the cold wind.

“Is this Xcor, son of the Bloodletter?”

Xcor gritted his teeth, but didn’t bother to correct the inaccuracy. The Bloodletter’s name was of

use to his reputation. “Yes. Who is this?”

There was a long pause. “I do not know whether I should be speaking to you.”

The tones were aristocratic, and informed him of the caller’s identity well enough. “You are the

associate of Elan.”

Another long pause—and, Fates, that tried his patience. But that was another thing he kept to

himself.

“Yes. I am. Have you heard the news?”

“About.”

When a third stretch of silence came along, he knew this was going to take a while. Whistling to

his soldiers, he indicated they were all to proceed to their skyscraper, a number of blocks to the east.

A moment later he was up on its roof, the gusts so much stronger at his preferred elevation. As

such a gale precluded discourse, he took cover in the lee of some mechanicals.

“News about what,” he prompted.

“Elan is dead.”

Xcor bared his teeth as he smiled. “Indeed.”

“You do not sound surprised.”

“I am not.” Xcor rolled his eyes. “Although naturally, I am bereft.”

Which was somewhat true: It was rather like losing a handy gun. Or, more accurately, a

screwdriver. But those things could be replaced.

“Do you know who did it?” the caller demanded.

“Well, I believe you do, am I right?”

“It was the Brotherhood, of course.”

Another misconception, but again, Xcor was prepared to let it stand. “Tell me, are you expecting

me to
ahvenge
him?”

“That is not my concern.” The stilted tones suggested the male was in fact worried about facing

the same fate himself. “His family shall go after redress.”

“As is their right.” When there was nothing further coming, Xcor knew what was awaited and

required. “I can assure you of two things: my confidentiality, and my protection. I can guess that you were at the gathering at Elan’s house in the fall. My position vis-à-vis the king has not changed, and I am surmising that this call places you in a sympathetic orientation to mine own views. Am I correct.”

“I am not one who seeks political or social power.”

Bullshit. “Of course not.”

“I am…worried about the future of the race—in this, Elan and I were aligned. I did not agree with

the tactics he proposed, however. Assassination carries too many risks, and ultimately, it will not accomplish what is warranted.”

Au contraire
, Xcor thought. A bullet through the brain fixed many things—

“The law is the way to bring down the king.”

Xcor frowned. “I do not follow.”

“With all due respect, the law is mightier than the sword. To paraphrase a human saying.”

“Your oblique references are a waste of words to me. Be specific, if you do not mind.”

“The Old Laws provide the power that Wrath wields. They spell out his unilateral dominion over

all manner of our lives and our society, giving him free rein to act as he chooses, with a complete lack of accountability.”

Which was why Xcor wanted the job, thank you very much. “Go on.”

“There are no restrictions on what he may do, what courses he may take—in fact, he can also

change the Old Laws if he so chooses, and alter the very fabric of our traditions and foundations.”

“I am well aware of this.” He checked his watch. Assuming he didn’t get stuck on this damn

phone for the next two hours, there was still plenty of time left to fight. “Mayhap you and I should get together in person tomorrow evening—”

“There is but one caveat.”

Xcor frowned. “Caveat?”

“He must needs be capable of producing, and I quote, ‘a full-blooded heir.’”

“And this is relevant how? He is mated already, and no doubt in the future—”

“His
shellan
is a half-breed.”

Now Xcor was the one who fell silent—and Elan’s solicitor took advantage of the quiet: “Let us

be clear with each other. There is human blood in the species. From time to time, there have been

matings outside the race. One could argue nobody is truly ‘full-blooded.’ There is, however, a vital difference between a civilian straying into the human mating pool, and the king producing an offspring whose very mother is a half-breed—said offspring to inherit the throne upon his death.”

Throe leaned around the corner of the HVAC blower. “All is well?” he mouthed.

Xcor cupped the phone. “Take the others down to the streets. I shall join you apace.”

“As you wish,” Throe said with a brief bow.

As his fighter ducked away, the aristocrat on the other end continued. “There is disquiet among

many members of the ruling class, as you are well aware. And I believe if someone comes forth with

this, it will be far more effective at displacing Wrath, son of Wrath, than any attempt on his life.

Especially after he made such a show of strength at the Council meeting the other evening. Indeed,

many were frightened into a kind of submission thereafter, their wills conscripted unto his physical bearing, which was rather fierce.”

Xcor’s mind began to turn over the possibilities. “So tell me, gentlemale, in your mind, you would

succeed him, no?”

“No,” came the strident response. “I am a solicitor, and as such, I value logic above all else. In

this climate of unrest and war, only a soldier could lead the race—and should. Elan was a fool for his ambitions, and you have been taking advantage of this. I know because I saw you at his house that

night in the fall—you were positioning him where you wanted him, even as he thought it was the other way around. I want change, yes. And I am prepared to make it happen. But I have no illusions as to

my utility, and no interest in Elan’s outcome becoming my own.”

Xcor found himself turning in the direction of that mountaintop. “No king has been dethroned in

this manner.”

“No king has e’er been dethroned.”

Good point.

As he stared to the northeast, where that strange disturbance in the landscape was located, he

thought of the king there with his queen…and Xcor’s pregnant Chosen.

There was a time when he would have much preferred the bloodier path, the one that was marked

with the satisfaction of ripping the throne away from Wrath’s dying hand. But this war of letters

was…safer. For his female.

The last thing he wanted to do was raid where she ate, where she slept…where her condition was

treated.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head at himself. Oh, how the mighty had fallen…and yet they would

rise up nonetheless, he vowed.

“How would you suggest proceeding?” he said roughly.

“Quietly, at first. I must needs gather precedents for the manner in which ‘full-blooded’ has been