Page 67 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

Talk about a tits-up parade of bad shit going down.

After Shuli disappeared the old lady with the food back into her apartment on a quick mental smudge, he jumped over to help Rhamp, who was ramming his whole body into a door that L.W.

had just busted open, but which had, miraculously, reconstructed itself like it was brand-fucking-new.

On the third try, Rhamp managed to break the fucking thing apart again and—

A nightmare.

That’s what it was.

L.W. was up against the wall, splayed out like da Vinci’s Vitruvian sketch, while a man—male?

what the fuck was it—was kneeling next to Lyric like he was losing his whole life as he tried to keep her conscious.

With her sweater wedged up to her neck, the alarming chest wound she’d sustained was bleeding at a fast rate—and of course, like all the tragedies Shuli’d ever had to witness, there was also the burning stench of a slayer having been sent home, as well as a discharged bullet casing on the wood floor.

Tunnel vision. Everything just collapsed for him into a pinprick of sight, and even though he wanted to fucking lose it, he brought up his phone so that the screen was right in the tube of vision he had.

He sent out the emergency call along with his location—

Meanwhile, Rhamp threw his big body forward, shoving everything out of the way to get to his sister—and somehow, that snapped some kind of magic spell that was in the air.

As L.W. dropped off that wall and landed on his feet, the heir to the throne lost no fucking time.

He went right for the boyfriend, picking up the guy, swinging him around, and throwing him down by the bed like he intended to drive him into the center of the fucking earth.

Then L.W. mounted his prey, grabbed on to that throat, and started squeezing the ever-living shit out of the bastard.

Couldn’t say he minded that one, Shuli thought as he knelt next to Lyric.

Taking her free hand, he said, “Help’s on the way. We’ve got you.”

The way her eyes rolled back in her head made him feel like he was going to pass the fuck out, too.

And then he heard the strangest thing.

“Take… you… to… him…”

While Rhamp stayed focused on his sister, Shuli looked over at the man who was under L.W. Even in the midst of the terror and the drama, it really hit him that whatever that vampire was sitting on… was not actually human.

He didn’t know what that thing was. Not a lesser , no. But—

Even L.W. slowed down the strangulation as the guy kept talking.

The man—whatever he was—dragged in a breath. “That is what you want, isn’t it. My father.”

The statement—spoken in a remarkably level tone—brought even Rhamp’s head around.

“Get off him,” Shuli said in a guttural rush. “Get the fuck off him.”

L.W. didn’t budge. Until… he did.

Sitting back on the guy’s hips, the fighter still looked like he was ready to kill his prey. But something was firing in his frontal lobe—and then his nostrils flared, in a way that his sire’s had on many occasions.

“He’s telling the truth,” L.W. said, almost absently. “He intends to… take us to Lash.”

Shuli did some quick math and then glanced at Rhamp. “You stay here with her. ETA on help is about two minutes.”

The male was nodding as Shuli rose to his feet. Even though the last thing he wanted was to leave Lyric, her brother had dominion over her, both in terms of the Old Laws and every sense of well-duh. Stupid emotions of the misplaced-love variety had no place in this kind of crisis.

Because he knew what was coming next.

“L.W.,” he barked, “get him up. You and I have to leave with him right now if you want what you’ve told me you want. Otherwise, the Brothers are going to take this over—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. The heir to the throne dragged the man—or whatever—up to his—its?—feet.

Leaning down once again, Shuli put his face in Rhamp’s and mostly blinked back tears. “Take care of our girl.”

He had no idea if the male was hearing anything. So he repeated: “Help is coming. ETA ninety seconds. You stay with her.”

In what seemed to be a daze, Rhamp nodded. With that settled, Shuli went over to L.W. and the pair of them each grabbed an armpit and all but carried their target out of the apartment.

“There’s a better way than this,” the guy muttered in a bored way as his feet dangled.

Whatever, the Brothers were about to come in through the basement or the building’s front door at any second, so Shuli nodded up the stairs and they hit an ascension as fast as they could go. Reaching the top floor, he glanced around—

Utility closet.

Tearing open the door, he was about to tell L.W. to—

L.W. handled the man like a Hefty garbage bag, tossing him inside. Then they both followed and shut the door.

Before the heir to the throne could start throwing insults—or punches, or maybe bullets?—Shuli put his palm in the fighter’s face. Then he addressed their new, not-so-little friend.

“First, we talk this shit out. Now, what the fuck were you saying back there.”

Squeezed into a small closet with all kinds of brooms, buckets, and furnace filters, Dev’s mind was not on the two vampires in front of him. All he could see was Lyric splayed out on his floor, that blood on her turtleneck at the sternum, her face losing its coloring.

And then she had said those words—

“I’m not going to be able to hold him back forever, asshole. So you better get talking.”

As the syllables being spoken at him got through the fuzzy delirium that lessened his powers and his focus, he forced his eyes to get with the program.

The shorter of the pair of males had a good haircut, handsome features, and a pair of diamond studs in his earlobes that were the size of quarters.

The other one, the one with the braid down the center of his head and the long black hair, was the guy to worry about, and not just because of his tremendous size.

With a face that was carved with aggression, and eyes that gleamed with hatred, it was clear he’d try to kill somebody just for jaywalking in front of his car, and that was not even close to what was going on here. To what had happened… back there.

Yet there was utility in this meeting, wasn’t there. Something had been jelling for Dev, something that was radical, impossible, and dangerous as hell.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that female,” he said roughly.

“Well, she’s never seeing you again,” the bigger vampire snapped. “ Ever .”

Yeah, he’d heard that.

“You want to get to Lash.” He looked directly into the taller one’s pale green eyes and let the male’s thoughts flow through him. “It’s your first and only goal, isn’t it. Except… no, there’s a shadow, too. Of a female—”

The punch came flying from the right, and the follow-through was masterful. As Dev’s head snapped back, he spat blood and slowly righted himself on his feet.

“Okay,” he muttered. “We’ll leave the female stuff alone. But like I can’t read your thoughts clear as day? You want Lash, I can take you to him.”

Even if Lyric had rightfully fucked him off, even if she’d all but banished him from what he feared might be her death, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help her, help her species.

Meeting her, bonding with her—in the way of a male vampire—had transformed his world, shaking him out of his solitude, waking him up to a purpose he never would have contemplated before.

Because he’d been too busy being bitched at the cards destiny had dealt him. Or parents, rather.

Nothing like true love to change your course. Too bad this was going to be a solo flight, not that he blamed Lyric—oh, God, what if she was dying?

“I can take you to my father,” he said because he couldn’t bear where his thoughts were going. “In honor of her. I will… take you to my sire. Hell, I want him eradicated, too.”

There was a tense silence as the pair of vampires did all kinds of shocked-to-the-core math. And all he could think of was Lyric, down on that floor, bleeding out while conventional medical help was “on the way.”

It wasn’t going to be enough to save her—

“Why would the heir to the Lessening Society want to give up his own sire,” the shorter one demanded.

“The two of you are the very last people I should have to spell that out to.”

“I don’t trust you. At all.”

Dev lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I wouldn’t either.”

“What proof do you have that you’re not going to fuck us—”

“He’s trying to kill the female I love and everybody who’s like her. What more proof do I need to have.”

On that note, he got fed up with the stalling and was gripped by a sudden, prescient terror. So he dematerialized out from under them.

In a scatter of molecules, Dev traveled down through the floors that separated him from Lyric, returning to his studio.

There were all kinds of people standing around her now, and for a moment, he kept himself invisible in the corner, wrapping his arms around his chest as he made sure no one sensed his presence…

not the members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood who’d arrived—he recognized them by the blades holstered upon their chests.

Not the medical staff who’d come—one of whom appeared to be a ghost?

Not that male who did not leave Lyric’s side.

So Dev was there.

When Lyric died.