Page 11 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

It was a total fucking blur.

Standing in front of the step and repeat, Lyric smiled on command as one of the event’s assistants wielded yet another pair of cell phones like they were proper Nikon cameras.

The two women who’d been brought up on the shallow stage were beautiful in their own right, their clothes off-the-rack versions of what was on the runways of Paris, their hair done up with extensions, their makeup flawless.

As soon as the pictures were taken, the conversation re-bubbled:

“—craziest thing I’ve ever seen! And I can’t believe—”

“—and then he came out of nowhere—”

“—out of nowhere, this guy—”

“— saves you. ”

Marcia ushered them off to the left with a firm tone and an engaging smile, and a threesome took their place.

Which meant there was all kinds of you go here, no I’ll go there, I want to be here, wait, how about I kneel?

While they worked things out, Lyric let herself get positioned and repositioned like a garden gnome, her detachment so deep and complete, she felt like she was staring at herself from across the VIP area.

The good news? The conversation was always the same, so after stumbling through the first couple of interactions, she’d landed on some appropriate repeatables:

Yes, from out of nowhere —

I can’t believe it, either —

I’m so lucky to be alive!

As with the smile she put on her face when it was time for the pictures, she made sure to inject the enthusiasm that was expected, and she was amazed at how good she was at faking this version of herself. The truth behind the branding, though, was that only one thing was on her mind.

What had he looked like?

How could she not picture that man’s face? This monumental thing had happened to her, this shocking, near-death, close call—and if he hadn’t shown up when he did, she wouldn’t be—

“Smile!”

On command, Lyric focused on the iPhone and followed directions as she felt a woman lean in and fly the peace sign.

“—and then he came out of nowhere!” The brunette made twin kapows next to her temples. “I was there! I saw it and I posted it, too. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“I know, right?” Lyric went jazz hands. “ Amazing .”

The young woman danced off, and Lyric went right back down below the surface, replaying the events again, a video on repeat—except it was something she’d lived through.

What color hair had he had? What about his eyes…? He hadn’t been wearing a coat, in spite of the cold, that much she was sure of.

“—sign this eye palette?”

Lyric came to. “Yes, of course!”

With a smile that didn’t show her fangs, she turned to the waist-high table that had been brought over.

As she uncapped a Sharpie and scribbled her name by the Trash Panda logo, she knew for certain the guy hadn’t been wearing a coat, because she had a clear recollection of him going over and picking it up from where it’d been laid on some steps.

A t-shirt, plain, under a bib with reflective safety panels, had been the only thing he’d had on.

Well, that and a crapload of muscle.

“—I mean, can you believe it? You could have been killed!”

“I know.” Lyric recapped the pen and held out the palette with more smiling. “It’s one of the most miraculous things that has ever happened to me.”

The redhead lingered, taking the makeup and holding it to her heart. “To anybody!”

Over at the front of the line, where the snaking ropes ended, the next set of women chimed in with agreement—

Marcia stepped up again and smiled with all her professional happy-happy. “Okay, let’s keep the line moving—”

That was when Lyric saw the disruption, in the main part of the club on the far side of the VIP area’s velvet rope. Bodies were agitating, getting out of the way of something that was moving fast—and then whatever it was hit the tuxedo’d gatekeepers.

And didn’t give two shits about pissing them off.

She knew before she knew. She felt before she saw.

There Qhuinn was, taller than all the humans around him, but standing out for so much more than that height. Like there was anybody else in the club with spiked black hair, piercings on his face and ears, and an expression that made clear a decision to get in his path was going to be a mortal one?

Breaking out of her own lineup, Lyric rushed forward, high-stepping over the golden rope that cordoned off the riser and then jumping down.

She almost lost a stiletto as she broke into all the people snaking down the aisle between the sunken seating areas, the collective gasping and flashes from camera phones disorientating her as hands with painted nails reached out for her arms, and women tried for selfies that were going to show just a blur of her.

Marcia hollered something, but that was in the background.

All Lyric cared about was getting to her—

“Father!” she whispered as suddenly Qhuinn was in front of her.

Jumping up, she hugged him hard enough to squeeze the breath out of a lesser male’s chest, but it didn’t matter. Her blooded sire was as he had always been, an absolute pillar, unbending, unrelenting. A superhero.

“Are you okay,” he said in a low voice.

She held on even harder. “I am now.”

As more pictures were taken, Lyric just lowered her face into his broad shoulder.

The smell of leather, gunmetal, and the aftershave he always wore was the security blanket she needed.

It was as if all the years he had ever been there for her coalesced into a tangible energy source that reinflated her with strength.

Sometimes a girl just needed her dad.

Shuli re-formed in the alley next to Bathe at the exact time Rhampage, Lyric’s fraternal twin, did the same.

The other male was likewise dressed for the war, his black hair messed up out of its expensive cut, his handsome-as-a-devil face screwed down tight with stress, all kinds of black leather hiding all kinds of weapons.

Given the lack of baby powder scent floating over on the cold breeze, the guy hadn’t found any of the enemy in the territory he’d covered yet—

Fuck.

Shuli immediately holstered his knife and gun and started paddling his puss with his palms.

His face was covered with that slayer shit.

“Here.”

He took what was offered without looking, without asking—and pulled up when the thing was damp and smelled like grandma perfume. “Baby wipe?”

“Sometimes you need a moist towelette.” The male did a well-duh in Shuli’s direction. “Are you here for Lyric?”

Shuli started scrubbing and spoke through the godsend. “I saw the video. Don’t wait for me—”

“How is it we’re in the field and she’s the one who nearly gets killed tonight?”

All Shuli could do was shake his head. Then again, he felt like shitting his pants every time he thought about the near miss.

“Don’t wait on me,” he repeated as he started to work on his jacket.

There was the hiss of a vape and then a white cloud the size of a car came out of the guy’s piehole. As Rhamp brought things up for a second inhale, his hand was visibly shaking.

“I don’t want her to see me all—” He took another hit and exhaled again. “You know.”

Shuli wadded up the wipe and shoved it in the ass pocket of his leathers. “I think she’d be offended if you weren’t fucked in the head.”

Rhamp grunted as they both went for the steel emergency door. “It’s that meet and greet, remember—”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hold up.” Rhamp froze. “Where’s L.W.?”

As the guy looked around—because, sure, it was totally possible to miss something as big and pissed off as “Little” Wrath—Shuli rolled his eyes and yanked the exit open.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Stepping into the dark blue glow of the VIP section, his eyes went immediately to the shimmering galaxy of stars in the center of the packed space.

The flashes of all kinds of cell phones were directed at the female he’d come to see, and goddamn him, she was as beautiful as always with that long blond hair and a shimmering dress he’d never seen her wear before.

She was with her father, locked in a desperate embrace—

As sire and daughter eased back, she looked over to the far corner like she sensed her twin and him.

Her shaken expression immediately perked up, and as she brushed tears from under her eyes, she started to come over.

The crowd parted for her with expectation, like they were dying to see what the next heart-affirming-reconnection-after-tragedy was going to be, and Shuli fussed with his leather jacket, trying not to be obvious about passing both his hands through his hair—

As he caught a fresh whiff of spoiled sweet-and-sour sauce, he looked down at his palms. Fuck . He had lesser blood in his hair, too.

With a quick snatch, he snagged a drink off a passing waiter’s tray and poured some of—oh, good, vodka and tonic. Perfect.

Be cool, he told himself as he swept the cold and limey into his ’do. Just tell her that you’re glad she’s okay.

God, if people only knew he was giving himself a pep talk right now.

In their group, he was known as having stellar game with the ladies.

Hell, especially when it came to vampire females, he didn’t even need a smooth tongue and all the right words.

His money and his bloodline did all the talking for him.

Lyric was different, though. And always had been—

His heart skipped a couple of beats as she arrived in front of them—and oh, fuck, she was looking right at him.

In slow motion, her arms raised, and on instinct, he stepped forward as the trippy techno music dissolved, along with all of the people, most of his pride, and at least three-quarters of his brains—

Rhamp’s shoulder bumped him out of the way as the guy caught his sister and held her off the ground.

“God, I really needed to see you,” she said to her twin.

“Like I wouldn’t come?” Rhamp’s voice was rough as sandpaper. “You were almost crushed by a conference. In your car-wash dress.”

Lyric glanced over her brother’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Shuli,” she said with an offhand wave.

As the mob surrounded the pair, Shuli let himself get pushed back, and the next thing he knew he was all the way at the emergency exit. It was easy to hit the handle and open the thing. What was hard was the last look he took back into the VIP section.

Lyric was with her sire and her twin, and the three were a bubbly center around which an entire universe spun. Meanwhile, he was headed out into the cold—

Come on, what was he so bummed out about.

After a near-death experience like that, of course she’d need to be with her immediates.

Shuli, on the other hand, was just a friend, and she had loads of those.

Sure, later they’d probably have a nice big, friendly friend-friend hug-it-out—but he was never going to be on her short list like her brother and her three fathers and her mahmen .

Nor should he be.

He was just a playboy who was useful in the war because he happened to be a good shot with a gun—and because he had a vein of rage he could tap into when he needed to. He was not, and had never been, hellren material.

Never would be, either.

Too bad Lyric reminded him of that, every time he saw her—

Behind him, the emergency exit opened. The exhale of perfume-scented warmth had a chaser of blue light, and as he measured the shadow his body threw on the dirty city snow, he thought about this secret that he’d kept to himself.

Shit, if Rhamp knew? After all these years of debauchery they’d shared?

Yeah, he was pretty sure it was practically a law of physics that you never, ever fell in love with your wingman’s goddamn sister—

“Where the fuck is L.W.”

Shuli spun around. Okay, not Rhamp.

The Black Dagger Brother Qhuinn was filling the jambs of the exit, looking like he was prepared to throw hands.

And unlike earlier with the son, the father was not going to let the subject of the missing heir to the throne drop.