Page 59 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

Heading for the walk-in closet, she changed into yet another set of the clothes that were there, the turtleneck sweater and jeans cozy, the snow boots far, far more practical.

As she hung up her influencer outfit and propped the thigh-highs in the corner, she lingered a moment.

Then she folded up Dev’s windbreaker, and hid it in the back of one of the built-in drawers.

After that, she turned off the lights and went for the exit.

Along the way, she checked her phone a couple of times, hoping for something from Dev.

He didn’t reach out, though.

All kinds of when-and-wheres about tomorrow night shot through her mind, but she had to leave them be.

Not only did she not want to chase him, but she had something else to do that seemed vitally important—although she couldn’t believe she’d have to go twenty-four hours before she could get in front of him again.

Instead of leaving by the door, she cracked one of the windows, closed her eyes… and tried to calm herself.

It was a while before she could dematerialize, but she wasn’t surprised.

When she re-formed, it was in front of a modern mansion that was lit up on the inside like some kind of display cabinet.

Cars of various European extractions were parked in the drive, and the front door was wide open, in spite of the cold.

The music was techno-swing, a new genre she hadn’t gotten into, and she didn’t need to be anywhere near the entrance to smell the red smoke, the liquor, the perfumes and colognes.

It was typical Shuli.

As she approached the cacophony, she marveled at how she’d been to the male’s shindigs for years, and had always looked forward to them.

She’d liked the excuse to get dressed up and do her OOTD posts—and then there was the gossip, and her friends, and the shenanigans that Rhamp and his buddies always got up to as the hours wore on and critical thinking became less and less critical.

Besides, what else had she had to do with herself?

Now, though, as she entered the white-on-white foyer with all its contemporary art, she wondered why she’d wasted so much time, hanging around with the same people, as the same conversations and jokes were shared.

“Lyric!”

The sound of her name brought her head around. Mharta was heading for her, the female looking sleek and sexy as ever in a skintight pantsuit. Another blonde, but she was not at all like Lyric in her style, opting for sex, before fashion.

“Hey, girl.” As they kissed on both cheeks, those judgy eyes went up and down Lyric’s sweater and jeans as if the female were looking at a dead squirrel. “How’d the leather top work out?”

“Oh—sorry, great. Thank you for loaning it to me. I’m going to dry-clean before I return it.”

“Not quite your usual shit, but I’ll bet you were fabulous in it.” The smile was patronizing, but not in a mean way. It was just how Mharta had always been. “I can see you’ve downshifted into comfy. How cute.”

And of course, both c-words were curses.

“Do you know where my brother is?” Lyric rose up on her toes and tried to see through the heads.

“No, and I can’t find L.W., either. They’re probably together—or they blew this off?”

“Rhamp, miss a party? Come on. Besides, he texted me he’s here.”

And also not to bother him. But she wasn’t hearing that.

“Well, I haven’t seen him.” The female frowned. “They better not have left without us.”

“He got in touch with me only twenty minutes ago.”

Mharta swung her stick straight blond hair over her shoulder, and it flowed down her back like a river. “Their loss. I’m going to leave—you want to go to Bathe with us?”

I’d rather lose a limb , Lyric thought.

“No, thanks. I’m going to try to find my brother.”

“If you see him, tell him he and L.W. are on my shit list.” Those red lips smiled easily. “But you know me, I’m a forgiver. Especially if it’s L.W.”

Mharta disappeared into the crowd of sophisticates, and Lyric kept going on her own way, squeezing between males in silk suits and females in haute couture.

As she went along, she was reminded of how she’d always found Shuli’s house to be stark and way too modern, especially when it came to his taste in art.

Then again, if you were going to pack a couple hundred people into these rooms on a regular basis, you might as well leave enough free space to accommodate them.

After she made a circuit of the lower floor, she was about to give up when she glanced to the stairs. The velvet rope was in place, which meant that people were to stay on the first level.

Interesting.

Ducking underneath, she jogged up the white carpeted steps, then went down the hall to the primary bedroom suite. She could scent the red smoke waaay before she got to the door, and she hesitated before knocking. Knowing Shuli, she might be interrupting an orgy—

The panels opened, and her brother was on the other side, like he’d done that for her.

And she didn’t like the look on his grim face.

It couldn’t be their granmahmen . She would have gotten a call as well.

“Now’s not a good time,” Rhamp said gruffly. “I told you.”

Looking past him, she saw Shuli and L.W.

lying side by side on the big king-sized bed, the former in satin PJs, the latter in hospital scrubs.

A drop-down TV the size of a living room rug was blocking most of the view of them, some gunfight banging through the surround sound and drowning out the music from the first floor.

Obviously, the pair of them were going nowhere, even with everything that was happening downstairs—

As soon as Shuli leaned to the side and looked around whatever they were watching, the male came to attention, rising off the pillows he’d been sprawled on. “Lyric…”

L.W. shifted down so he could see under the TV for only a split second. Then he shook his head and went back to whatever they had on.

“We can talk later,” Rhamp said roughly.

Pushing him out of the way, she barged in. “What’s going on here.”

She’d known the three of them for far too long not to recognize the telltale signs they were planning something. Plus the tension was so high, the air in the suite was almost a solid.

“Care for a drink?” Shuli mumbled as he fell back into his recline. “I’d get you one, but I’m far too wasted to be able to stand. Rhamp—grab your sister whatever she wants?”

“She’s not staying,” her twin muttered as he took her by the arm. “Come on, I’ll see you out—”

Lyric yanked her arm free. “The hell you will—”

He glanced at the others. “Sorry about this, I didn’t think she’d show up—”

“Whoa, hold on,” she snapped. “Like I’m your little sister and I’m bugging you while you do big boy things? Screw you, Rhamp.”

“I’m not going to argue with you.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin. “How refreshing. This a new leaf? ’Cuz going by your expression, I’m thinking it’s a resolution you’re not going to be able to keep.”

Her brother’s head fell back in dramatic fashion. “Your timing is like your taste in lovers. Bad, as usual—”

“Fuck you—”

Rhamp kicked the door shut with a clap. “No, see, you called me for help the night before last, and my friends could have died—all because you wanted to make sure your human toy didn’t get recruited and end up on the wrong side—”

“It’s your job to hunt lessers —”

“To protect the species, Lyric,” he shot back. “Not your little fuckboy—”

The volume on the TV got much, much louder, L.W.

’s outstretched arm pointing a remote at the flat-screen.

But the guy didn’t otherwise interfere. Likewise, she had the sense that Shuli was content to just sit back and watch the drama.

Or maybe “content” was the wrong word—he was looking sick to his stomach.

Goddamn it, the idea that they were both still so injured from the gunfight that they couldn’t go out into the field or to a stupid party made her guilt so much more intense.

“—surprised you’re not with him now,” Rhamp was saying. “Or did he decide he needed his sleep. Like humans do.”

She refocused on her brother. His eyes were spitting anger, and his black hair was all messed up, as if he’d pulled at it in frustration.

His big fighter’s body was dressed at the midpoint between casual and field-ready: There was still a lot of black, and she didn’t doubt that there were plenty of weapons under his loose Adidas track suit, but there were no obvious daggers, no shitkickers.

He’d come for a party, yet he wasn’t inebriated, and he sure as hell wasn’t relaxed.

She looked back at Shuli and L.W., and wondered what was going on between the three of them.

As a twin, she’d always had a knack for knowing what her brother was thinking.

Maybe not specifics… but she could sense his mood.

And this wasn’t about their granmahmen or even about the fighting at Dev’s. It wasn’t even about Dev—that was just a distraction to piss her off and keep her from asking too many questions that were too close to the real issue.

“What’s going on here,” she repeated softly.

Rhamp’s face went full mask and he took her arm. “Nothing that involves you. Now go—”

The fact that he was trying to process her like a problem brought the anger back. “Okay, fine, I’ll get someone else to teach me how to shoot—”

Instantly the TV was muted, and as her brother spun her around, both L.W. and Shuli sat up on the bed and leaned around the TV again.

“What did you say?” Rhamp demanded.

“You heard me.” Lyric made sure to meet those stares without flinching or apology. “I want to learn how to handle a gun.”

“Why do you need to know how to shoot.”

Lyric narrowed her eyes and thought of the woman in the purple dress. “I want to learn how to fight. In the war.”

There was a pause, and then her brother threw his head back and laughed.

Okay, so maybe Valentina hadn’t had a point about going to her brother.

“I’m serious!” And she was not going to demean herself by stamping her foot. But holy shit, she suddenly wanted to punch a wall. “Do you think I enjoyed being on the sidelines while you all got shot up behind that apartment building? I might have been able to help—”

Rhamp’s head re-leveled with a snap. “No. Absolutely no . You’re going to cut this shit out, right now. You are not the kind of person who can handle the field—”

“How do you know? When you guys started in the training program, I’ll bet you had to learn a lot. And practice. Why can’t it be the same for me?”

“Really.” As the others stayed silent, her brother narrowed his stare at her. “After the way you’ve spent the last ten years? You have to ask that.”

“There are females who can fight.”

“And they’re not Barbie, okay? They’re not you.”

As Lyric blanched at the dismissal, she opened her mouth to respond. Shut it. Tried again.

“I didn’t know you had so little respect for me,” she said in a voice that cracked. “Hell, I’m surprised you’re not embarrassed to claim me as your sister.”

Rhamp tossed up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I think you did.” As her eyes flooded with tears, she slashed at them angrily. “And I’m glad to know where I stand with you. I won’t bother you again—”

Her phone went off at the same time her brother’s did.

As they both took their cells out and Rhamp glanced at her with alarm, she knew this could only mean one thing.

She answered Qhuinn’s call at the same time her brother answered Blay’s.

“We’re coming,” she choked out before their sire even said a word. “Rhamp’s here with me, and we’re coming right now.”

When she hung up, Rhamp stepped to her. “Are you okay to dematerialize or should I drive you.”

His voice was the same, and so were the features of his face—and his height and muscularity, too. The offer to make sure she was okay was also right up his alley, and before, the gallantry had always seemed a reflection of his good character. Now?

For the first time in her life, she looked at her twin brother as if he were a stranger.

“You take care of yourself,” she said. “I’ve got me.”

On that note, she turned and headed for the door.

“Oh, come on, Lyric. Now is not the time—”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she muttered as she let herself out.

In the hall, she paused to collect herself. Then she headed for the guest suite next door so she could ghost away.

To her grandparents’ house.