Man, he was the wrong angel for the job.
Helluva situation the pair of them were in.
Tohr's eyes lifted, and they were so dilated, if Lassiter hadn't known they were blue, he would have said they were black.
"What can I do...?" the Brother moaned.
Oh, man, he couldn't stand it.
Abruptly, he got up and went to the window. Outside, the landscape was discreetly lit, the gardens far from resplendent in their nascent state. Indeed, spring was a cold, cruel incubator, summer's wallowing warmth months off.
A lifetime away.
"Help me help her," Tohr said hoarsely. "That's what you told me."
In the silence that followed, he had nothing. No voice. No thoughts, even. And this was in spite of the fact that unless he pulled something out of his ass, he was headed back to a hell custom-made for him, with no hope of escape. And Wellsie and that young were stuck in theirs. And Tohr was stuck in his.
He'd been so arrogant.
It had never dawned on him this wasn't going to work. When he'd been approached, he'd been flippant, confident, and ready for the aftermath - which had been all about freedom for himself.
A struggle had never occurred to him. The concept of failure had not been anywhere near his radar screen.
And he'd never expected to give two shits about what happened to Wellsie and Tohr.
"You said you were here to help me, help her." When there was no reply, Tohr's voice lowered. "Lassiter, I'm on my knees here."
"That's because your balls are in your diaphragm."
"You told me - "
"You don't believe me, remember."
"I saw. In the books on the Far Side. She is not in the Fade."
Lassiter stared out at the gardens and marveled at how close to life they were - in spite of how shriveled and decrepit they appeared, they were about to burst forth and sing for spring.
"She is not in the Fade!"
Something grabbed him, spinning him around and slamming him ass-first into the wall so hard, if he'd had his wings on, they would have been snapped off.
"She is not there!"
Tohr's face was twisted into a facsimile of its features, and as a hand clamped on his throat, Lassiter had a moment of clarity. The Brother could kill him, right here, right now.
Maybe that was how he ended up in the In Between again. Couple of head shots, then maybe a snapped neck, and poof! You failed. Hello, infinite nothingness.
Funny, he'd never even considered going back. Probably should have.
"You'd better open your f**king mouth, angel," Tohr growled.
Lassiter traced that face again, measured the power in that body, took the temperature of the rage. "You love her too much."
"She is my shellan - "
"Was. Goddamn you, was."
There was a heartbeat of silence. Then a crack, and a light show, and a lot of pain. As well as a little wobble of the knees - not that he'd have admitted that.
The bastard had coldcocked him.
Lassiter shoved the guy off him, spit blood out on the carpet, and thought about hitting back. Fuck the fighting, though. If the Maker was going to reclaim him, then the Be All and End All was going to have to come get him; Tohr was not going to be airmailing him in.
Time to get the hell out of this room.
As he headed for the door, the muttered cursing from behind him was easily ignored. Especially given that he was wondering whether one of his eyes was hanging by its optic nerve.
"Lassiter. Fuck, Lassiter - I'm sorry."
The angel wheeled around. "You want to know what the problem is?" He pointed right into the guy's puss. "You are the problem. I'm sorry you lost your female. Sorry you're still suicidal. Sorry that you have nothing to get out of bed for - or get into bed for. I'm sorry that you've got a boil on your ass and a toothache and goddamn f**king swimmer's ear. You are alive. She is not. And your hanging on to the past is putting you both in an In Between."
Catching his flow, he marched up to the cocksucker. "You want the fine print? Well, here it goddamn is. She is fading out - not heading for the Fade. And you are the reason it's happening. This" - he motioned around the male's stringy body and his bandaged foot and hand - "is why she's there. And the longer you hold on to her, and your old life, and everything you lost, the less of a chance she has of getting free. You are in charge here, not her, not me - so how about you punch yourself again next time, ass**le."
Tohr dragged a shaking hand down his face, like he was trying to sand off his features. And then he clasped the front of his muscle shirt - right over his heart. "I can't just stop... because her body did."
"But you're acting like it happened yesterday, and I've got no sense this is going to change." Lassiter went over to the bed where the mating gown was laid out. Fisting the satin, he dragged the thing off by the thick skirt and shook it. "This is not her. Your anger is not her. Your dreams, your f**king pain... none of it is her. She is gone."
"I know that," Tohr shot back. "Do you think I don't know that?"
Lassiter shoved the gown forward, the satin falling like a rain of blood. "Then say it!"
Silence.
"Say it, Tohr. Let me hear it."
"She is..."
"Say it."
"She is..."
When nothing came back at him, he shook his head and tossed the gown on the bed. Muttering under his breath, he went for the door again. "This is going nowhere. Unfortunately, the same is true for her."
Chapter Seventeen
As dawn grew near, Xhex wrapped up her first night back in her old boots. The pace of the hours had been good, the Ping-Pong nature of dealing with a f**kload of people in an enclosed space with alcohol in the mix making the time pass fast enough. It was also good to be Alex Hess, head of security, once again - her own female, even if the name she used among the humans was fake.
And it was frickin' fantastic not having the Brotherhood breathing down her back.
What was not so hot was the fact that everything felt flat, like life had been bulldozed in preparation for the paving trucks to come.
She'd never heard of females doing the bonding thing. But as usual, that didn't mean she wasn't an outlier. And bottom line, without John by her side, everything seemed to be just a big, resounding meh.
A quick check of her watch told her there was one hour left of true darkness. Man, she wished she'd come in on her bike so she could can the headlight and roll through the shadows at ridiculous speeds. The Ducati was locked up tight in her garage, however.
She wondered if there was a rule against shellans riding.
Probably not... As long as she was sidesaddle, dressed in armor plating, and had a helmet made of reinforced, skid-resistant Kevlar, they'd probably let her go a few circles around the fountain in front of the house.
Vroom-vroom. Fucking wheeeeeeee.
Leaving her office, she locked the thing up with her mind so she didn't have to worry about keys -
"Hey, Trez," she said as her boss emerged from the ladies' locker room. "I was just coming to look for you."
The Shadow was tucking his crisp white shirt into his black slacks, and looking a little more relaxed than usual. A second later, one of the working girls came out from behind the door with a glow on her like she'd been hand-polished.
Which was probably not far from the truth.
At least her clueless expression told Xhex that Trez was keeping things on the DL. But still... you shouldn't feed where you worked. Complications could arise.
"I'll see you tomorrow night," the woman said with a loopy smile. "I'm late. Meeting friends."
After the girl went out the back, Xhex looked at Trez. "You should use other sources."
"It's convenient and I'm careful."
"Not safe. Besides, you could scramble her mind."
"I never use the same one twice." Trez put an arm around her. "But enough about me. You off?"
"Yeah."
Together, they ambled down to the door the woman had used. God... it was old times all over again, as if nothing had happened since the last time they'd closed up together. And yet Lash had happened. John had happened. The mating had -
"I'm not going to insult you by offering to escort you home," Trez murmured.
"So you like your legs right where they are, huh."
"Yup. They fill out my pants just fine." He did open the door for her, the cold air rushing in like it was trying to get away from itself. "What do you want me to tell him if he hits me up."
"That I'm fine."
"Good thing lying isn't a problem for me." When she went to argue, the Shadow just rolled his eyes. "Don't waste your breath or my time. Go home and get some sleep. Maybe things will be better tomorrow."
By manner of reply, she gave him a quick hug, and stepped into the darkness.
Instead of dematerializing north, she wandered along Trade Street. Everyone was in closing mode: the clubs were spitting out their last few patrons - who looked about as attractive as masticated gum; the tat shop was clicking off its neon sign; the Tex-Mex restaurant had already battened down its hatches.
Shit grew seedier as she kept going, everything getting gloomier and grungier until she arrived at the blocks-long stretch of abandoned buildings. With the downturn in the economy, businesses were drying up like roadkill, and lessees were fewer and farther between -
Xhex stopped. Sniffed the air. Looked to the left.
The unmistakable scent of male vampire wafted over from a deserted walk-up.
BBFO, or Before Brotherhood Freak-out, she would have pursued it - gone in, checked to see if any of them needed help, found out what the Brothers were doing.
Now she just kept going, walking onward with her head held high. They didn't want her help - no, that probably wasn't accurate. They'd seemed fine with her until John had had issues. It was more like they no longer felt comfortable with her -
Up ahead about two blocks, a massive figure stepped out into her path.
She halted. Took a deep breath. Felt a prickling in her eyes.
On the breeze drifting down to her, John's unmistakable bonding scent was a dark spice that wiped out the stink of the city and the wretched sting of her unhappiness.
She started walking toward him. Fast. Faster...
Now she was running.
He met her halfway, falling into a jog as soon as he saw her pick up the pace, and they slammed into each other.
Hard to know whose mouth found whose, or whose arms were cinched tighter, or who was the desperate one.
But then, in this they were equals.
Breaking the kiss, she groaned, "My cabin."
The second after he nodded, she was out of there and so was he... and they re-formed outside her place.
No waiting to go inside.
He f**ked her standing up, against her door, in the cold.
It was all so fast and frantic, her ripping her leathers down until she got one leg free, him breaking the buttons on his fly. Then she was spread wide and locked on his hips and he was buried to the base in her core.
He pounded into her so hard that her head banged on the door like she was trying to break into her own house. And then he bit her on the side of the neck - but not to feed, to hold her in place. He felt so much bigger inside of her, stretching her to the point where he strained her capacity. She needed that. At this moment, on this night, she needed him raw and unchained and a little painful.
Hell, yeah, she did - and that was exactly what she got.
When he came, his hips locked against hers, his erection kicking up a storm deep within her, spurring her own orgasm.
And then they were in the cabin. On the floor. Her legs cranked apart, his mouth on her sex.
With his hands clamped on her thighs, and his still-erect c**k sticking out of his open fly, he went down on her with a furious tongue, lashing at her, penetrating her, taking what he'd just had.
The pleasure was unbearable, a kind of agony that had her throwing back her head and contorting on the floor, her palms squeaking on the linoleum as she struggled unsuccessfully to keep herself from riding backward -
The orgasm plowed through her so violently that as she shouted his name, bright lights flickered across her vision. And he didn't relent in the slightest. As the onslaught continued, she was pretty sure that at some point he bit her on the inner leg, at that juncture where the thick vein went down to feed the lower half of her. But there was too much sucking, too much releasing, too much... everything to know or care.
When John finally stopped and lifted his head, they were in the far corner, nearly into the living room. Oh, what a picture. Her mate's face was flushed, his mouth glossy and puffy, his fangs so long he couldn't close his jaw - and she was likewise wrung out, her breathing ragged, her sex throbbing with its own heartbeat.
He was still erect.
Too bad she barely had the energy to blink - because he deserved one heck of a payback....
Except he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. Rising up between her open legs, he gripped himself and began to stroke.
With a moan, she arched and rolled her hips. "Come all over me," she said through gritted teeth.
John worked himself, his palm locked around his thick shaft, a clicking sound rising up as he pumped. His massive thighs split wide as he shoved his knees farther apart for balance, the muscles in his forearm standing out in harsh relief as he went harder and faster. And then he was barking something in a soundless way, his body going rigid as hot jets splashed all over her sex.
Just the thought of herself wet and messy was almost enough to make her come again. But the sight of him making it happen? Sent her right over the edge once more...
"She's going to need an extra two hundred if she does him."
Xcor stood off to the side during negotiations with the whores, making certain that he was in the shadows - especially now that Throe had reached the tricky part of his being accommodated. No reason for the reminder of what he looked like to drive the price even higher.
Only two of the three girls had shown up at this abandoned house down on Trade Street, but apparently number three was on her way - although courtesy of her being late, she had been handed the short straw: him.