Page 50 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

Back in Caldwell, in the rural outskirts far from the city’s gritty center, Qhuinn walked through the various security doors at the rear of the Audience House.

When he got to the one with the little pinpricks in the ceiling—that were just like the teeny fuckers at the training center—he refused to look up.

Goddamn Rhage. The queasy tension as he stood under them was worse now than before whatever the hell he had had a name.

Tinyholephobia. Or whatever the fuck the brother’d called it.

As the last door opened and he burst into the kitchen, all he smelled was fresh baked goods, and his stomach came to attention. He didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t eat when he was out at Blay’s parents’ house anymore.

Ah, fuck that. He knew why. Food there made him think of his mahmen -in-law—

The instant his presence registered on the cooking staff, all kinds of doggen chefs turned to him.

“Sire, may we get you aught—”

“—may we do for you—”

“—anything, at all?”

Faced with such earnest pleading, he glanced over at some pastries that were fresh out of the oven and frosted to perfection.

“Actually, yeah, please.” He nodded in their direction. “I’d like the whole nine yards, if it isn’t too much trouble, but in the meantime, mind if I take one of those?”

“Oh, sire, indeed!” The silver platter of Danish was brought over to him like it was life support. “Take them all—”

“Just one, thanks.” He picked a cherry—though he did have to admit the lemons looked very tempting. “I have to watch my girlish figure.”

Over at the stove, a doggen already had a pan out. “Would you care for scrambled eggs and toast with bacon?”

“And coffee, of course,” another one said by the industrial-sized pot.

“That all sounds perfect.” He took a bite of the Danish and holy shit it was good. “I have to be in on a meeting in the—”

“We shall bring it to you directly!” A travel mug was put in his hand. “With just a little sugar.”

Qhuinn glanced around at all of their hopeful, happy faces. “Thank you,” he said roughly. “This is going to hit the spot.”

They all but gave him a round of applause for gracing them with his presence, while the only thing he’d done was add to their duties. Amazing.

Shaking his head and munching along, he stepped into the vacant central core of the building.

The fact that no one was in the lockdown area gave him the opportunity to pull his shit together.

His work really was his salvation, and after a day spent staring at Blay as the male stared at the black-and-white picture on the baby monitor out in the family room, he was ready to think about anything other than when someone was going to die.

Well, treasonous plots aside, that was—

The panel that permitted access to the Audience Room opened and V stuck his head in. “You good to go?” the brother with the goatee asked in a quiet voice.

Qhuinn snapped to attention. “I’m not late.” He jacked up his wrist and double-checked his watch. “I have two minutes—”

“Didn’t say you were late.” The brother exhaled a stream of smoke and immediately took another drag of his hand-rolled. “I asked if you’re okay.”

“Right as rain.” He toasted V with his travel mug full of wakie-wakie. “Glad to be here.”

“You sure about that? You’re only on the schedule because you asked to be and—”

“I’m here”—he indicated himself with the mug—“so Blay doesn’t feel as bad not being on the schedule himself, and anything that makes him feel less shitty is what I need to be doing right now.”

V stepped to the side and held the door open, his diamond eyes grave. “You let me know if you need to pull out, true.”

All he could do was nod at that. And the choked-up shit got worse as he went into the Audience Room. All of the Brotherhood was there, and the Band of Bastards had also squeezed into the space.

Every single eyeball trained in his direction as he entered, and fuck him very much, but they each knew him too well: Even though he took an exaggerated pull off the traveler, and swallowed the last of the cherry Danish in spite of the burn on his tongue, there was no hiding how fucking awful he felt.

No one else asked him how he was, however. Which was exactly what he needed.

No chinks in this armor tonight. Nope—

“Qhuinn,” the King said from up at his armchair. “What’s going on at your mate’s parents’.”

Ohhhh, great. But he wasn’t about to duck a direct question from his King.

He had to clear his throat. “She’s still with us.”

That autocratic head nodded, the long black hair shifting over Wrath’s shoulder as the male leaned down to stroke his dog’s boxy blond head. “You’ll keep us informed. Do any of you need anything?”

If that wasn’t a loaded question, he didn’t know what was—because the honest answer was, they needed the elder Lyric to pass, for her sake and for their own.

When she did, there was going to be a new hell to get used to, but at least they would have the peace that came with her no longer trapped in that bed, wishing she could be doing the things she used to.

“No, thanks.” He cleared his throat, and got nowhere with the lump in it. “Lyric’s comfortable, and we’re just waiting for the inevitable. Not much to be done.”

“You sure you want to be here tonight?”

“Blay knows where to find me and wants me here. He’s well aware of what’s at stake because I’ve updated him on everything.”

The guy had insisted on talking about Whestmorel as dawn had arrived, as a matter of fact. Helluva change in subject from what was going down with his mahmen , but hey. Beggars, choosers, and all that bullcrap.

“He’s a male of worth,” Wrath said. “And so are you.”

There was a growl of approval that vibrated through the room, and Qhuinn resolutely stared at the travel mug until that passed.

As things quieted, Wrath nodded again, with obvious respect. Then he looked in V’s direction. “Now, you were saying.”

The brother stabbed out his cigarette on the tread of his shitkicker and put the butt in his back pocket. “Nothing. The ‘George’ lead went nowhere—and if Allhan can’t find anything on it, no one can.”

“And nobody’s come forward with a missing hellren , sire, or son.”

“No.”

“Sonofabitch.” The smile that stretched the King’s hard mouth was cold as the wind that prowled around outside.

“My guess is that Whestmorel and his crew are sequestering, and they’ve told their families to wait it out—which is why there is no report of a missing male.

That poor bastard we found fucked up somehow, so they couldn’t take him with them to whatever safe house they’re in because they no longer trusted him, and they sure as fuck couldn’t let him go.

They left him alive in there to send a message to any others who might have doubts—”

The knocking that interrupted things was loud and insistent, and everybody had the same reaction.

Guns were unholstered, unsafety’d, and brought up to be trained on the door that opened out into the civilian corridor—while at the same moment, Qhuinn, Rhage, and Phury closed ranks around Wrath to form a shield with their bodies.

Meanwhile, as the King bent down and picked up his golden, the rest of the Brotherhood and the Band of Bastards formed a second circle, an outer rim of aggression, between the ruler and the door.

With the defensive positions set, Vishous checked the security feeds on his phone, his brows drawing tightly together and distorting the tattoos at the corner of his eye. “What the hell—”

Pounding now, on the door. “Hello! Help!”

Per protocol, the trapdoor beneath Wrath’s chair sprung. As the lowering began, Qhuinn and the other two stepped in tighter on the descending platform.

“Help! We need help!” came the muffled cry on the far side.

The next thing Lyric knew, she was back in her physical form, and the first sensation that properly registered—beyond the fact that she had weight on her bones again and pressure on her feet—was the cold. The bitter, biting cold.

She rubbed her eyes and looked around in confusion. She was outside in the snow, standing in front of an enormous, double-sided barn door, and for a moment, she couldn’t place where—

The left half of the panels opened and someone all but ran her over as they burst out in a full-on bolt.

“Hey!” she barked as she got spun around.

The male, who was only in a t-shirt and blue jeans, just kept going, gunning for the back of the—

Audience House. She was at the Audience House, and standing in front of Four Toys Headquarters, the seat of all the security monitoring and IT—

Shouting voices from inside urged her up to the open doorway, and she frowned as she looked inside.

The workstations laden with computer monitors and equipment were all vacated, people having jumped up out of their chairs or knocked them over as they clambered for something deeper inside the building.

Lyric hesitated on the threshold, intimidated by all the important work that was done here. Vishous was in charge of the security and monitoring of the King, the Brotherhood, and all their properties, but also so much more. This was definitely not her place to hang around—

One of her feet stretched forward without her willing it to do so, and the other followed right behind. The next thing she knew she was walking down the center aisle between all the desks, wondering what in the hell she was doing here—

Abruptly, her body cut through the lineup and zeroed in on the far corner. That was when she saw the drama. There was a group of males and females clustered around something on the floor, all the way against the barn’s rear wall—

A scent in the air speared into her nose. And then her brain made the kinds of connections that scared her into a scramble.

Allhan. The transition had finally hit him.

“Let me do it!” she called out. “I carry the blood of a Chosen in my veins! I will feed him!”

As she skidded to a halt, faces lifted and stared at her in shock and wonder.

On the other side of them, Allhan was sprawled on the floor under his desk, all the color drained out of his face, his frail body contorted in pain.

His eyes were bloodshot and wild as they rolled around, his hands curled up so that as he dragged them over the floorboards, the scratching sound competed with his heaving breaths.

“Move!” she barked.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the shoulder of the nearest person and all but threw him out of her way. The others broke apart in response, and she fell down beside the male whose transition had hit him like a freight train.

Scoring her wrist, she put her face into his own. “Drink. Now—”

As her blood welled and started to drip on his vintage Prince concert t-shirt, his stare swung around to her, and there was a sudden fear in his eyes. “No—”

“ Yes .” Tears made her vision wavy. “You will drink now—”

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I can’t do that to you—”

“If you want to live, you will take my vein—”

Twisted by a fresh spasm of pain, he writhed on the floor, his leg kicking out, one arm knocking into the footing of the desk with a horrible, cracking impact.

“No,” he moaned as he turned his face away from her wrist. “Can’t do that to you—”

With her other hand, she moved him back to her. “For me, then.” She stared into his eyes. “Do it for me, Allhan.”

In the periphery, she was vaguely aware that other people had rushed up on them, but again, she ignored all that.

“Allhan,” she said urgently. “I want you to drink for me. Do this, take my vein—I am begging you, do this for me.”

His myopic stare locked on her own.

“Yes, Allhan. Please .”

This time, when she brought her wrist to his mouth, a single drop of blood landed on his lower lip, glistening and vitally red, and she watched as it slipped into his mouth—

The groan of hunger that came out of him rose up to the rafters. And then he lifted his head—

The seal was sloppy. At first.

But as he started to take draws, it improved, the suction set properly. Shoving her other arm under his head, she shifted him into her lap. As her hair fell forward, she impatiently tried to get it out of her face—

A hand in a black glove drew the weight back and held the blond waves out of the way.

Looking over, she recoiled at who was next to them.

The Brother Vishous was kneeling beside her, his diamond eyes with the navy blue rims staring at her with an expression she had never seen before. And behind him, looming tall and strong, was her father Qhuinn, whose lips were moving.

Even though her hearing wasn’t working right, she knew her sire was speaking to her, encouraging her.

Praising her.

She glanced back down at Allhan. He was breathing harder now, his nostrils flaring, as a flush bloomed in his face. His body was still moving with restless abandon, but she witnessed the strength come to him—

With a hoarse exhale, he cried out in fresh pain and twisted on the floor, his limbs straightening all at once, his fingers splaying. As he jerked and spasmed, she locked a hold on his head and pushed her wrist against his lips to keep them in place.

“Don’t stop,” she said. Then more loudly, “Allhan, you have to drink, no matter what happens. It’s too soon for you to stop—”

He did as he was told, and she prayed she was right. She was just remembering what it had been like for her several years ago, the racking agony, the gnawing, horrible hunger, the sense that she was surely going to die. And oh, God, she knew what was coming next, and it was terrible.

“Drink, drink, drink…” She repeated the entreaty over and over again as minutes passed.

The first of the bones breaking occurred in his right leg, the snap of his femur loud in the tense silence. As curses from the assembled rippled through the beats between the male’s tortured breaths, his sneaker changed position on the floor—and not because he’d straightened his knee any farther.

The growth was starting.

“We have to get his jeans off or his skin will tear,” someone said.

Vishous. It was Vishous.

“Everybody down to the break room,” he continued. “Monitor protocol on laptops and phones. Now !”

The males and females who worked at the facility immediately dispersed, and she was aware of Fritz coming in with blankets and pillows, juice and bread.

The latter were for her. If she needed to eat something.

With her father’s help, Allhan was repositioned out from under the desk, and his clothes removed, a blanket laid over him for modesty’s sake. Meanwhile, pillows were wedged under her arm to help support her—

The next broken bone was the other femur, and then his shoulder popped out of alignment.

Allhan screamed at that point, and she had to squeeze her eyes closed.

What if my blood isn’t strong enough , was all she could think of.