Page 44 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

As Dev and Lyric emerged from Roberto’s, she was all up in her head, wondering if he was going to bring up the what-next, whether she was going to do it, if they were going to go back to his place and finish what they’d started. Or… maybe just take it a little further—

“This was great.” He turned and faced her. “And not the food.”

“You didn’t like your Bolognese?”

As he laughed, she watched his face, seeing the crinkling at the sides of his eyes, something she’d come to look for when he smiled.

It made him seem younger, somehow, even though for a human he was only in his late twenties.

Had she asked him his age? She didn’t remember.

And P.S., check them out, being all regular-people, regular-problems: Date commentary, lingering in the glow of an Italian eatery’s sign, hesitating to go forward, not wanting to leave.

Big difference from the night before—and for that matter, the night before that.

“I liked you.” His hand came up and brushed a strand of her hair that had caught the wind. “But the food was good, too.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Was that an answer to the question he hadn’t asked? Hell yeah, it was. Except as their pause turned into an actual silence, she wondered once again whether a brush-off was coming—

“I wish I could take you back to my place.”

“Oh.” She shook her head to clear it. “I mean, sure. That’s… fine. I get it—”

“It’s not because I don’t want to be with you. I’m actually moving.”

“You are?” She tried to tamper down a shock that resonated way too much. “From Caldwell?”

No, North Dakota, you idiot , she thought.

“I don’t know where I’ll end up.”

She waited for him to say more. “Oh. Okay.”

But come on, where did she think this was all going?

He didn’t know what she really was, she didn’t know who he really was—and now that she looked back on it, the talk over their table had all been very superficial.

He’d never once asked about her family or her life, and she’d been relieved because what could she share other than mother, father, father, father, and brother?

And even that buried the lead, as the saying went.

Come to think of it… what the hell had they talked about?

She couldn’t remember now—no, wait. That wasn’t completely true.

She’d asked him on a third date and he hadn’t said yes.

He’d just changed the subject to whatever she was going to order, or something equally banal.

As disappointment crested, she decided that she needed to be real here.

They hadn’t been thoughtfully set up by friends, or met over a shared interest. They had… collided.

“This was a goodbye dinner, then.” And then she forced a smile. “Or maybe a see-you-later without it really being meant.”

His eyes traced her face. “I shouldn’t be doing this with you. It’s not… fair.”

“Are you married?” She put her hands up. “I should have asked this last night—”

“No, I’m not. Marriage is for a different kind of man than me.”

“Oh.”

Out on the street, a couple of cars crunched by them, the light down at the intersection having turned green. As the wind strengthened, she shivered.

“Where do you live,” he said after a moment. Like he really didn’t want to know.

“Why did you waste the time meeting me here.”

“You’re cold. Where’s your car—”

“Answer me,” she shot back.

Dev put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and stretched his chest forward like he was realigning his back. Then his eyes traveled around, focusing over the top of her head.

“Why did you waste our time,” she repeated.

“Because no matter how much I tried to talk myself out of it, I couldn’t not see you.” He lowered his stare to her face. “I can’t get you out of my mind.”

Lyric opened her mouth. Closed it. And that was when his eyes dropped lower… and stayed on her lips.

“So what do we do now,” she murmured.

Dev stepped in closer to her, his arm moving around her waist. As he tilted her backwards, she put her hands up to his shoulders.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Who else have you told,” Shuli breathed.

Across his bedroom, L.W. kept going, moving to the flat wall by the bathroom door. He stopped in front of yet another painting.

“Rothko,” he murmured.

Shuli frowned. “You know the artist?”

“Of course. And don’t sound so surprised.”

“I just thought between polishing your ego and judging people, you didn’t have a lot of time for art history.”

“You are such an asshole.” Except the tone was mild. “And you have a lot of net worth on these walls. Downstairs, too. That Pollock in the foyer is my favorite.”

“My parents collected European Old Masters. I do not.”

L.W. glanced over. “Parental problems, too, huh.”

Shuli was not touching that one. “Who else have you told about your eyes.”

“Nobody.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Shuli measured the male in a new way. The heir to the throne was still monstrously strong, even injured and with that crutch, definitely not the kind of thing anyone would want to meet in a dark alley. But shit.

He shook his head. “Jesus. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s been coming over the last year. And I’m only telling you—”

“Because you want me to make sure you don’t get killed out in the field.”

“No, to explain why I’ve been acting like I have.” L.W. came over to the foot of the bed. “I don’t know how much time I have left to really fight. I want to get to Lash while I still have all my faculties and kill him.”

“Don’t you mean ‘destroy’?” Shuli fiddled with the sleeves of his red satin robe, and thought, hey, at least he wasn’t thinking about how much his body hurt now. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t know if the evil monster can be killed.”

“If that sire of his, the Omega, could be eradicated, he can, too. They’re made of the same shit. That’s why I’m looking for a location. That’s why I’m out there every hour I can be. I’ve got to find him before it’s too late.”

Shuli wagged his forefinger like a librarian. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep this up. Especially if you can’t—”

“I can see well enough. For now.”

And then the two of them just stared at each other.

“You lie,” Shuli said after a moment.

“About what.”

“You’re not trying to explain your behavior. You want me to be your accomplice.”

When eye contact and silence were all he got in return, he laughed in a short burst. “Wow.”

“You’re my ahstrux nohtrum . You’re along for the ride.”

“I’m supposed to keep you alive, not be your Robin on some suicide mission.”

“This is not a suicide mission.” L.W. shifted the crutch in front of him and bounced the gray tip on the white carpet like he was pointing to things written on a board.

“We’re trained to fight, killing slayers is our directive, and taking out the head of the Lessening Society is possible in pursuit of that goal.

We just need to find out where Lash is, figure out how to get at him—and blow him the fuck up. ”

“Payback for what he did to your father.” Shuli considered the motivation. “You know, the last time I saw you with the King, I got the impression you didn’t like him very much. Strange calling—revenge for a sire you can’t stand.”

“I don’t want him to stop me.”

“That’s why you hate him? Because you’re afraid he’s going to take your toy away?” Shuli shook his head. “I don’t buy it, but that’s your business. And I will tell you you’re wrong about all this.”

“Who cares? My personal convictions and your opinion are irrelevant to what I’m going to do.”

“Nah, this is not about that fee-fee bullshit.”

“Huh?” L.W. frowned. “Fee-fee—”

“Feelings. Emotion.” Shuli batted the air with his hand.

“But I digress, you big, dumb, royal asshole. What you’re wrong about is my part in your grand plan.

This is a suicide mission for me , not you.

Did you hear what the Brothers were talking about down at the clinic over-day? There’s a plot against your father.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“They’re going to kill that Whestmorel guy. Soon as they find him.”

L.W. shrugged on the side that didn’t have the crutch. “As they should.”

“So what do you think is going to happen to me if I aid and abet the heir to the throne on an undisclosed, rogue mission to get to Lash. That’s treason against the throne because your ass is next in that fancy chair, you dark, brooding idiot.

The King and the Black Dagger Brotherhood will absolutely kill me, and that’s true whether you succeed or fail. ”

“They spared you last night.”

“They are not going to cut me any slack on this one.” Shuli shook his head again. “You fucked me off in the field then, I had no control over that. What you’re talking about requires my full participation.”

“No one needs to know.”

“How the fuck do you think that’s going to work.”

“Because I’m not saying shit, and neither are you.”

Shuli looked around his room, at all the paintings he’d bought with his dead parents’ money just to spite them.

He wasn’t sure he even liked the blotchy fucking canvases from an artistic point of view.

He’d bought them because they were a fuck-you to those two aristocrats.

The truth was, if his brother hadn’t overdosed a year before they’d died, Shuli would have been out on the street without a dime.

As it was, the “spare” got the goods by default.

Probably because they were so grief-stricken, they forgot about revising their wills.

So yeah, he understood complications with parents.

“Tell me you need my help,” he said in a low voice.

When nothing came back at him, he cocked a brow. “You ask a male to put his life on the line for you, you can damn well make the request properly. And I’m not too proud to admit that I’m a little bit hurt.”

L.W. rolled his eyes. “About what.”

“That the only reason you’re coming to me is because your eyes are failing and it’s dawned on you that you might not be able to go it alone. Oh, and P.S., I rubbed my fucking feet raw trying to find you two nights ago. Blisters all over them. If I were a human, I’d be crippled.”

“I’ll buy you orthotics.”

“And Band-Aids.”

“Deal.”

Except then L.W. lowered his chin and stared out from under his brows. “What’s your answer, aristocrat.”

“What’s the question, prince.”

L.W.’s voice went low and so level, it was all but dead. “Don’t fucking toy with me.”

“So no’s not an option, then.” Shuli rose up off his pillows.

“You going to kill me if I don’t play ball, huh?

Make it look like an accident in the field tomorrow night?

Whoops, good ol’ Shuli got caught in friendly cross fire.

How sad. Or maybe it’s more like you slaughter me and my doggen here and now, and pretend a lesser did it.

Probably better, the latter. If you give me too much time, I might just have to go to the King with your bright idea. ”

“Guess we’ll find out, aristocrat. What’s your answer.”

“Tell me you need me,” Shuli shot back.

L.W.’s upper lip lifted from his fangs. “It’s the other way around.

You have no purpose, no calling, no reason to get up at night.

You’re a fuckboy, trust fund junkie who can’t hide his boredom at the very parties he throws to distract himself from his zero existence.

The money you have is inherited, not earned, and you buy your friends with it because it gives you control over them and that way you don’t have to worry about them seeing the real you and judging you for being so fucking useless.

You even have to pay for sex because you’re in love with a female who wouldn’t have you if you put a gun to her head on account of—unlike the suck-ups who drink your liquor and snort your coke—her knowing that underneath your thin skin there’s nothing worth fighting for or falling in love with. ”

Shuli swallowed through a thick throat. Then he said roughly, “And you’re the one asking me to commit treason with you.

So, sorry, your epic, shit-talking soliloquy was nice and all, but you’re not exactly looking like a genius here if you’re choosing me and that’s your opinion of your partner— Little Wrath. ”

“Fuck you,” came the growl.

Cupping his ear, Shuli turned his head and motioned toward himself with his free hand. And then he just sat there.

There was an eternity of silence. Until, finally…

“I need you,” the heir to the throne gritted out.