J.R. Ward - Lover Reborn

No, not entirely solitary. She had come to this side to find her daughter, and now that she had, she was going to…

Well, tonight, she was going to clean this gown.

Stroking the fine fabric, she couldn’t stop the memories from bursting forth, a geyser, unwelcomed.

She had had gowns like this. Dozens of them. They had filled the closet of her nighttime quarters, those beautifully kitted-out rooms that had had the French doors.

Which had proved to be less than secure.

As her eyes misted over, she fought the pull of the past. She’d been through that black hole too many times to count—

“You should burn that robe.”

No’One wheeled around so fast, she nearly tore the dress off the worktable.

In the doorway was a massive male with blond-and-black hair. Verily, he was so big he filled the double-size jambs, but that was not the astonishing thing.

He appeared to gleam.

Then again, he was covered with gold, hoops and studs marking his ears, his eyebrows, his lips, his throat.

No’One dived for what normally covered her, and he stood calmly as she girded herself with the robe.

“Better?” he said softly.

“Who are you.”

Her heart beat so fast that the three words came out in a rush. She wasn’t good with males in enclosed spaces, and this was very enclosed, and he was very male.

“I’m a friend of yours.”

“Then why have I yet to make your acquaintance.”

“Some people would say you’re lucky to have been spared,” he muttered. “And you’ve seen me at meals.”

She supposed she had. She typically kept her head down and her eyes on her plate, but yes, in the periphery, he had been there.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said.

There were two things that kept her from completely panicking: First, there was no speculation in that deep voice of his, no masculine heat, nothing that made her feel preyed upon; and second, he had shifted his position so he was lounging back against the jamb—leaving her room to bolt out if she had to.

As if he knew what made her nervous.

“I’ve been giving you some time to settle in and get your bearings,” he murmured.

“Why would you have cause to do that.”

“Because you’re here for a very important reason, and I’m going to help you.”

The male’s bright white, pupil-less eyes held hers, even though her face was in shadow… as though he were not merely looking at her, but into her.

She took a step back. “You do not know me.”

At least that was a truth so solid she could plant her feet on it: Even if whoever this was was familiar with her parents, her family, her lineage, he did not know her. She was not who she had once been: the abduction, the birth, her death had wiped that slate clean.

Or had broken it to pieces, more accurately.

“I know that you can help me,” he said. “How about that.”

“Are you looking for a maid?”

Hard to imagine, given the number of staff in this household—but that was beside the point. She didn’t want to serve a male in any kind of intimate way.

“No.” Now he smiled, and she had to admit he looked a little… kind. “You know, your default doesn’t have to be servile.”

She kicked her chin up a notch. “All work is honorable.”

That was a fact that she had missed before everything had changed. Dearest Virgin Scribe, she’d been a spoiled, overpampered, entitled brat. And the shedding of those ugly, jeweled robes of self-inflation had been the only good thing that had come out of it all.

“Not maintaining to the contrary.” He tilted his head, as if he were imagining her in a different place, with different clothes. Or maybe he just had a stiff neck; who knew. “I understand you’re Xhex’s mom.”

“I am the female who birthed her, yes.”

“I heard that Darius and Tohr put her up for adoption after she was born.”

“They did. They sheltered me through my convalescence.” She skipped the part about her taking the latter’s dagger and putting it to use upon her own flesh: she had already spoken o’er much to this male.

“You know, Tohrment, son of Hharm, spends a lot of time looking in your direction at meals.”

No’One recoiled. “I am certain you are wrong.”

“My eyes work just fine. As do his, apparently.”

Now she laughed, the hard, short burst breaking out of her throat. “I can assure you, it is not because he fancies me.”

The male shrugged “Well, friends can disagree.”

“With all due respect, we are not friends. I do not know you—”

Abruptly, the room was infused with a golden glow, the light so buttery and delicious, she felt her skin prickle with warmth.

No’One took a further step back as she realized it was not an optical illusion courtesy of all the jewelry he wore. The male was the source of the illumination, his body, his face, his aura like a banked fire.

As he smiled at her, his expression was that of a holy man. “My name’s Lassiter, and I’ll tell you all you need to know about me. I’m an angel first and a sinner second, and I’m not here for long. I’ll never hurt you, but I’m prepared to make you pretty goddamn uncomfortable if I have to, to get my job done. I like sunsets and long walks on the beach, but my perfect female no longer exists. Oh, and my favorite hobby is annoying the shit out of people. Guess I’m just bred to want to get a rise out of folks—probably the whole resurrection thing.”

No’One’s hand crept up and held her robe together in a tight grip. “Why ever are you here?”

“If I told you now, you’d just fight it tooth and nail, but let’s just say I believe in full circles—I simply didn’t see the one we’re in until you came along.” He gave her a little bow. “Take care of yourself—and that beautiful dress.”

With that, he was gone, drifting away, taking the warmth and the light with him.

Slumping back against the counter, it took her a while to realize her hand hurt. Looking down, she observed it from a distance, seeing the white knuckles and the rigid flesh against the robe’s lapels as if it were someone else’s appendage.

It was always thus when she regarded any part of her body.

But at least she could command her flesh: Her brain ordered the hand attached to the arm that plugged into the torso to release and relax.

As it obeyed, she glanced back over to where the male had stood. The doors were closed. Except… he hadn’t shut them, had he?

Had he even been here?

She rushed over and looked out into the hall. In all directions… there was no one.

After nearly two hundred years of having been mated, Tohr was pretty familiar with the way arguments between pigheaded fighters and hot-tempered females went. And how ridiculous was it to have a case of the nostalgias over the way John and Xhex were hairy-eyeballing each other.

God, he and his Wellsie had gone a few good rounds during their day.

Just one more thing to mourn.

Dragging his exhausted brain back on track, he stepped in between the pair, figuring the situation needed a reality injection. If it had been any other two, he wouldn’t have wasted his breath. Romance was not his business—whether it was going well or badly—but this was John. This was… the son he’d once hoped to have.

“Time to go back to the compound,” he said. “You both need treatment.”

“Stay out of this—”

Stay out of this—

Tohr reached over and clamped a hold on the nape of John Matthew’s neck, squeezing those tendons until the male was forced to look at him. “Don’t be an asshole about this.”

Oh, sure, it was okay for you to be an asshole —