Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last

wondered what her breasts looked like.
    “Have we met?” she said.
    “We are right now.” He put his hand out and deliberately enunciated his words. “How do you do?”
    She stared at his palm, and then refocused on his face. “Anyone tell you that you sound like Dracula with that accent?”
    He smiled tightly so his fangs didn’t show. “There have been certain comparisons made from time to time. Are you not going to shake my hand?”
    “No.” She nodded to the gallery’s back door. “You a friend of the Benloises?”
    “Indeed. And you?”
    “I don’t know them at all. Nice briefcase, by the way.”
    With that, she turned on her heel and walked over to the Audi. After the blinkers flashed, she got in, the wind catching her hair and blowing it over her shoulder as she disappeared behind the wheel.
    He stepped out of her way as she pulled forward and sped off.
    Assail watched her go—and found himself thinking with disdain about his business associate Benloise.
    What kind of man sent a female to do that kind of business?
    As the brake lights flared briefly, and then rounded the corner, Assail sincerely hoped that the line that had been drawn earlier in the night was respected. It would be a shame to have to kill her.
    Not that he would hesitate for an instant if it came down to that.

TWENTY-FOUR
    A s Zypher lay on hard concrete, his many years as a member of the Band of Bastards meant he was well familiar with the lack of accommodations he was currently enjoying: his ass was numb from the cold as well as the absence of a mattress beneath his heavy body. Likewise, his head was cushioned only by the rucksack he had used to bring his few belongings to their new HQ in this warehouse basement. Further, the thin, rough blanket that covered him was not long enough, leaving his socked feet exposed to the chilly, damp air.
    But he was in heaven. Absolute heaven.
    Coursing through his veins was the blood of that female, and oh, the sustenance. Having gone without a proper feeding source for almost a year, he had become inured to the fatigue and the restless muscles and the aches. But that was over now.
    Indeed, it was as if he were inflating with strength, his skin filling out again to its proper dimensions, his height returning once more to its feet and inches, his mind both logy in the aftermath, and sharpening moment by moment.
    Now, if he had had a bed, he would have enjoyed it, of course. Soft pillows, sweet-smelling sheets, clean clothes…warm air in winter,cool air in summer…food for an empty stomach, water for a dry throat…all of these were good if one could get them.
    They were not necessary, however.
    A clean gun, a sharp blade, a fighter of equal skill to his left and to his right. That was what he required.
    And of course, during downtime, it was good to have a female willing and on her back. Or her stomach. Or her side with one knee up to her breasts and her sex exposed and ready for him.
    He wasn’t fussy like that.
    Dearest Virgin Scribe, this was…bliss.
    Not a word that he used very often—and he didn’t want to sleep through this awakening. Even as the others lay sunk in the repose of the dead, each in the same spacey recovery that he, himself, was buffered in, he remained utterly aware of his glorious internal glow.
    There was only one thing that was getting on his nerves.
    The pacing.
    He cracked an eyelid.
    Just on the edge of the candlight, Xcor was walking back and forth, his path restricted by two of the massive column supports that held up the floor above them.
    Their leader was never at ease, but this restlessness was different. Going by the way he was holding his cellular device, he was waiting for a call—and that explained why he was where he was. The only place you could get a phone signal down below was standing beneath one of the two trapdoors: The panels of them were made of wood, and the steel mesh that had been tacked underneath had been the only alteration made when they had chased off the vagrant humans, sealed up the exterior floors, and moved in.
    That way, vampires couldn’t materialize down below.
    And shit knew humans weren’t strong enough to pry open those six-inch-thick wooden boards—
    The tinkling noise that emanated from their leader’s phone was far too civilized for the environs, the false bell sounding out cheerfully sure as a wind chime tickled by a spring breeze.
    Xcor stopped and looked at the phone as he let it ring once more. Twice