Page 38 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

Oh, you’re home! I thought you were going to stay out at your grandparents’?”

As Lyric entered her mahmen ’s living quarters at the Wheel, the happiness she was greeted with made her feel like absolute shit.

The Chosen Layla was at the kitchen table, her blond hair tied in a bun, her white robing the traditional dress of her station that she wore still because, as she said, “it’s more comfortable than PJs.

” In front of her, all of her beading trays were lined up, a colorful display of Lucite boxes that glowed like a rainbow, and she had a half-made bracelet in her hands, a mug of hot chocolate at her elbow, and her favorite jazz music threading through the warm air.

It was such a common scene, something Lyric had walked in on for as long as she could remember.

Her mahmen made the jewelry to support Safe Place and Luchas House, and Layla’s Baubles was a very successful store on Etsy.

God only knew how much money she’d been able to donate over the years—and all from this bright, cheerful kitchen, sitting under a flowered light fixture.

As Lyric’s eyes stung, she felt like she hadn’t seen any of it for years.

And that included her fair-haired mahmen . Which was nuts. They’d spent time together here just hours ago.

“I…” Lyric cleared her throat. “I just wanted to come back here.”

Layla frowned. “What’s wrong.”

The female didn’t wait for an answer. She ditched the string of beads and scrambled around the table, her skirting flowing out behind her. “Do you need Doc Jane because of the accident last night—”

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

Trying to hold herself together, Lyric took her mahmen ’s hands and drew her back to the table. “Ah… so what are you working on tonight?”

Pointedly pulling a chair out, she sat herself down and made like she was looking over all the little squares of those glass beads. In reality, she was trying to give her eyes time to air-dry the tears that had flooded into them.

There was a creak as her mahmen settled back into her chair. “Talk to me, daughter mine.”

Lyric reached out and stirred some iridescent beads in their little container.

When she’d been a young, the tiny donuts had delighted her, especially as the collection had always included every color imaginable, from the softest of lavenders and the brightest of reds, to the deepest of blues and the crispest yellows. And everything in between.

She cleared her throat and picked up a single crystal bead. “You know… when I was little, I used to think you had the power to splinter rainbows. I was convinced that somehow, you were able to go out during stormy days and find them, and these were what was left over. Fragments from your magic.”

Layla put her hand across the table, a beckoning gesture. “Something’s going on. A mahmen knows these things.”

Letting the bead drop back with its lot, Lyric replayed all kinds of clips from what she had decided was a night from hell. And considering the billboard bullshit from the evening before was her standard… that was really saying something.

Her mahmen might have intuition, but with everything else that was going on, there was no reason to verify that hunch so graphically.

“It’s really okay. I’m just… a little off.”

The hell it was okay. She’d roped her brother into something that had turned into a royal mess—literally, because L.W. had been involved—and then against her better judgment, she was getting totally obsessed with a human she couldn’t really be with.

Not truly. Not deeply… honestly.

God, she really wanted off this drama carousel.

“What was it like,” she abruptly heard herself ask. “Back when you were up in the Sanctuary with the Scribe Virgin.”

Layla’s perfectly beautiful face registered surprise. “I—well, ah… why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Lyric played with some red beads. “I’ve been thinking a lot about life lately. I’ve made the decision that I’m not going to do the social media thing anymore.”

“Why? You’ve enjoyed it so much.”

“It’s fake. Nothing but pretend. I can’t…

I can’t keep going between my granmahmen ’s deathbed and a makeup chair so I can look good for pictures I don’t care about.

” She shrugged. “And you know… sometimes I think it would be easier if I had a higher calling. Transcribing the history of the species, being so close to the creator of us all… must have been such a sacred duty.”

Her mahmen ’s brows drew together again and she seemed to retreat into herself. “It was rather heartbreaking, in truth.”

“Because you couldn’t live your own life?”

“No.” Those pale eyes lifted. “Because we couldn’t help. We could only sit on the sidelines and watch.”

Lyric immediately returned to being up on that roof, hearing the shooting and the sirens. “Yes… that would be terrible.”

“It was.” Layla seemed to shake herself back to the present, picking up the bracelet she’d been working on. “That’s why I do this. I can make a difference for people who need help and support.”

“That’s what I want to do.”

“And you have so many years ahead of you.” Layla smiled with reassurance. “There are many avenues to work for the species—”

“What if I wanted to fight?”

“No.”

They both turned around. Xcor had come into the kitchen, and the expression on his face was like someone had suggested he invite a squadron of slayers to sit at his table.

Lyric frowned at the male. “Payne and Xhex fight—”

“They’re different.” He marched forward, peeling off his leather jacket as if he meant to show all of his weapons. “And I don’t want any more talk about this—”

“Why are they different?” Lyric knew in her heart the reasons why, but pride made her want to defend herself in some way. “They had to train. They had to learn. No one comes out of the womb knowing how to—”

“I’m not talking about this. Not tonight—”

Layla spoke up. “Okay, let’s just all take a—”

“Well, I am.” Lyric stood up. “And there’s nothing you or anybody else can do to stop me from—”

“You know what I did tonight?” He tilted forward on his hips, his distorted upper lip lifting off his fangs.

“You want to know why I’m home early? I got to carry the bruised, dead body of a torture victim to the incinerator at the training center and burn the remains.

He was found in a hidden room at a traitor’s mansion and we have no idea who he is or if he had any family.

He’d been left for dead, tied to a chair in the abandoned house.

He died in spite of everything Doc Jane did to try to save him, but we might well have had to kill him anyway depending on his involvement in the plot against our King. ”

Lyric lowered her gaze to all the pretty beads on the table, and the bracelet that was in process.

“You want to deal with that ? You want to look at that—smell it? And that’s before you add in getting shot at, killed, or worse, taken in for questioning by the Lessening Society. Oh, and Lash is inducting women now. Do you want to be the first female vampire to—”

“Enough!”

As Layla slammed her palms into the table, all of the boxes of beads bounced, the colors mixing as shimmers of light fell back down.

There was a moment of tense silence as shellan and hellren stared across at each other.

Then Xcor cursed and headed for the sink.

From the drying rack, he took a glass and filled it with water.

Tilting his head back, he drank the whole thing slowly, before rinsing it out and putting it back where it had been.

Pivoting around, he said in a more even tone, “I apologize. It’s been a long night, and frankly, this is probably why I need to take some time off. But I don’t want you involved in the war. One son is more than enough, I can’t take a daughter, too—”

The door that led in from the Wheel’s outer ring opened and Rhamp walked in. He was covered in red and black blood, stank of lesser , gunpowder, and gasoline, and had a foot drag that suggested he’d been injured.

“What happened to you?” Xcor demanded.

As Layla jumped up, Rhamp glared at Lyric. “Ask her. Or the human she’s sleeping with—if she’ll tell you who the hell he is. And no, I’m not interested in talking about tonight.”

With that, he went down the hall to his room, and shut the door with a resounding clap.

Out in the countryside, Qhuinn re-formed on the front stoop of his in-laws’ house.

As he reached for the door, he hesitated—and thought about all the times when he hadn’t done that.

For so many years, he’d just walked right in, happy to be there, looking forward to seeing the people inside…

beyond ready for the food, whatever it was.

He took a deep breath. Then another—

Pushing things open, he pinned a smile on his face. The shit didn’t last as he walked in. You could smell the medical-grade cleaner, the astringent not even a little covered up by the fake lemon scent that floated along with it.

Ehlena or the other home nurse must have just left.

He closed things quietly. Rocke’s study was immediately to the left, and as he glanced in, his nape sounded a warning. The office chair was swiveled away from the desk, and a pen without its cap on had been dropped in the middle of a page.

“Oh, fuck…”

As he strode forward, the formal living room to the right was also vacant, but it was always that way, the fancier furniture arranged with throw pillows that had tassels, the dark green and gold drapes made not of linen or cotton but a nice, weighty velvet.

Even though it was an outlier in the midst of all the comfy-cozy, the color scheme still went with the rest of the house, though, and he’d seen the elder Lyric standing on the thick carpeting and slowly turning ’round and ’round.

Like she couldn’t believe she had such a beautiful room in her house.