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He met Zsadist’s pitch-black stare and kept his voice level. “This is not what it looks like. She doesn’t want me, and I’m not going to try to change her mind. Nothing is started that needs finishing, and before you say it, I won’t go near her. You have my word.”
As he spoke, the residual pain at the wound in his chest exploded into a white-hot suffering. He told himself it was just the last bit of healing kicking in… because that was all he could live with. He’d fallen in love once and gotten crushed, and that had been child’s play compared to what he felt like anytime he saw Nalla in a crowd.
Even if she’d have him, which she wouldn’t, where would it end? He couldn’t die, so he’d just roam the world in loneliness after she was gone? ’Cuz no Fade for him. Not evenDhunhd.
So no, he wasn’t starting shit with her. He had enough of a curse to live down already, fuck him very much.
And in the silence that followed, the Brother’s eyes didn’t budge from his own. Then again, a Black Dagger Brother didn’t back away from anything.
“Your word means nothing to me,” Zsadist said grimly. “And you earned my disregard the old-fashioned way.”
“I know I have. And I’m going now.”
“The fuck you are. We’re not done, you and me. You got shit you need to account for from tonight.”
“I know that, too. But here’s not the place, is it.”
Nate glanced at Nalla and thought about what she’d looked like inthe club, a breath of fresh air among all those made-up attention seekers. Now she was shell-shocked, bloodied… yet just as beautiful in a raw, brutal way, her yellow eyes luminous from unshed tears.
He felt like he needed to say something to her. But in the end, he lost his voice so he just gave her a nod, and turned away from them both.
Dematerializing would be a great idea, but that was not going to happen. Shoving his fists into his jacket, he trained his senses on what was ahead of him and got to walking—
“Nate!”
He glanced over his shoulder. Nalla ran up to him, then reached out to touch his mouth. When she drew her hand back, her fingertips were red with his blood.
“Nalla,” her sire barked.
She looked back at the Brother, and spoke the one word that was guaranteed to make the night worse: “No.”
“Fuck,” Nate breathed.
Zsadist narrowed his eyes. “You are going to find out that sooner or later, what you choose becomes what you pay for. But you’re right, Nalla. I’m not in charge of your life anymore. You’re going to have to learn that lesson on your own. And, Nate, now’s your one chance to do the right thing with me. I hope like hell you mean what you said.”
On that note, the Brother dematerialized, up-and-outing from the alley.
With a curse, Nate shook his head. “You should have left when he told you to.”
“How do I know if you’re well enough to go home on your own?”
“I’m not your problem.”
And Jesus, he was a big one. Not only was he in trouble for popping that cop-bot on Market, but he was in the cross hairs of a Brother now. Oh, and he still had a dead human in his side yard that needed a good burial—or a fire, given the ground’s frost layer.
As Nalla crossed her arms over her chest, he knew she was going nowhere fast. “Tell me what just happened.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to—”
“Worry about you? That’s only part of it. At some point, I am going to have to try for sleep and I really need some context for… this.” She looked back at the puddle of his blood. “Who are you?”
“No one special.”
“That”—she jabbed her finger at the place he’d “died”—“is not normal.”
“It’s not me.”
She gave him a don’t-be-an-idiot look. “So who the hell am I talking to right now.”
