"Bella needs to come here," he said roughly. "She needs to say good-bye."
Her mother nodded and shut her eyes. "She must come now, and please have her bring the young."
Back in Caldwell, at the Brotherhood mansion, Tohr paced around his bedroom. Which was a joke, really, considering how weak he was. Lurched was about all he could pull off.
Every minute and a half he checked the clock, time passing at an alarming rate until he felt as if the world's hourglass had been shattered and seconds, like sand, were spilling all over the place.
He needed more time. More...Shit, would that even help, though?
He just couldn't figure out how to get through what was about to happen and knew more stewing wasn't going to change that. For example, he couldn't decide whether it was better to have a witness. The advantage was that it was even less personal that way. The disadvantage was that if he cracked wide open, there was another person in the room to see.
"I'll stay."
Tohr glanced over at Lassiter, who was lounging on the chaise by the windows. The angel's legs were crossed at the ankles, and one combat boot ticked from side to side, another hateful measure of time.
"Come on," Lassiter said, "I've seen your sorry ass naked. What could possibly be worse than that."
The words were typical bravado, the tone surprisingly gentle-
The knock on the door was soft. So it wasn't a Brother. And given that there was no food aroma working its way under the door, it wasn't Fritz with a tray of eats destined for the porcelain throne.
The call to Phury had worked, evidently.
Tohr started to shake from head to toe.
"Okay, easy, there." Lassiter got up and came over fast. "I want you to park it over here. You're not going to want to do this anywhere near a bed. Come on-no, don't fight me. You know this is the drill. It's biology, not choice, so you need to take the guilt out of it."
Tohr felt himself getting pulled across to a stiff-backed chair that was by the bureau, and right in f**king time: His knees lost interest in their calling, the pair of them falling loose so that he hit the woven seat so hard he bounced.
"I don't know how to do this."
Lassiter's gorgeous puss appeared right in front of his. "Your body's going to do it for you. Take your mind and your heart out of it and let your instinct do what needs to be done. This is not your fault. This is how you survive."
"I don't want to survive."
"You don't say. And here I thought all this self-destructive crap was just a hobby."
Tohr didn't have the strength to lash out at the angel. Didn't have the strength to leave the room. Didn't even have enough in reserve to cry.
Lassiter went over to the door and opened it. "Hey, thanks for coming."
Tohr couldn't bear to look at the Chosen who entered, but there was no ignoring her presence: Her delicate, flowery scent drifted over to him.
Wellsie's natural fragrance had been stronger than that, made not only of rose and jasmine, but the spice that reflected her backbone.
"My lord," a female voice said. "I am the Chosen Selena, here to serve you?"
There was a long pause.
"Go to him," Lassiter said softly. "We need to get this over with."
Tohr put his face in his hands, his head falling loose on his neck. It was all he could do to breathe in and out as the female settled on the floor at his feet.
Through his spindly fingers, he saw the white of her flowing robes. Wellsie hadn't been into dresses all that much. The only one she'd ever truly liked had been the red-and-black gown she'd mated him in.
An image from that sacred ceremony appeared in his mind, and he saw with tragic clarity the moment when the Scribe Virgin had clasped both his and Wellsie's hands and declared that it was a good mating, a very good mating indeed. He'd felt such warmth linked to his female through the mother of the race, and that sensation of love and purpose and optimism had increased a million times over as he'd stared into his love's eyes.
It had seemed as if they had a lifetime of only happiness and joy before them...and yet now here he was on the other side of unthinkable loss, alone.
No, worse than alone. Alone and about to take another female's blood into his body.
"This is happening too fast," he mumbled behind his palms. "I can't...I need more time..."
So help him, God, if that angel said one word about how now was the right moment, he was going to make that bastard wish his teeth were made out of safety glass.
"My lord," the Chosen said softly, "I shall come back if that is your wish. And come back anon if then is not right. And return and return once more until you are ready. Please...my lord, verily I should only wish to help, not hurt you."
He frowned. She sounded very kind, and there wasn't a sultry note to any of the syllables that had left her lips.
"Tell me the color of your hair," he said through his hands.
"It is black as the night and bound tight as my sisters and I could make it. I took leave to wrap it in a turban as well, though you did not ask that of me. I thought...perhaps it would help further."
"Tell me the color of your eyes."
"They are blue, my lord. A pale sky blue."
Wellsie's had been sherry colored.
"My lord," the Chosen whispered, "you need not even look upon me. Allow me to stand behind you, and take my wrist that way."
He heard the rustle of soft cloth, and the scent of the female shifted around until it came from behind him. Dropping his hands, Tohr saw Lassiter's long, jeans-clad legs. The angel's ankles were crossed again, this time as he leaned back against the wall.
A slender arm draped in white cloth appeared before him.
In slow tugs, the sleeve of the robing was gradually lifted higher and higher.
The wrist that was exposed was fragile, the skin white and fine.
The veins beneath the surface were light blue.
Tohr's fangs slammed down from the roof of his mouth and a snarl came out of his lips. The bastard angel was right. Suddenly there was nothing on his mind; everything was his body and what he'd deprived it of for so long.
Tohr clamped a hard hand on her shoulder, hissed like a cobra, and bit the Chosen's wrist down to the bone, locking his fangs in place. There was a cry of alarm and a scramble, but he was gone as he drank, his swallows like fists on a rope, pulling that blood down into his gut so fast he didn't have time to taste it.
He nearly killed the Chosen.
And he knew this only later, after Lassiter finally peeled him free and knocked him out with a punch to the head-because the instant he'd been separated from the source of those nutrients, he'd tried to go for the female again.
The fallen angel had been right.
Horrible biology was the ultimate driver, winning over even the stoutest of heart.
And the most reverent of widowers.
Chapter THIRTY-FOUR
When Ehlena got home, she put on a fake face, sent Lusie off, and checked with her father, who was "making incredible strides" in his work. The second she could get free, though, she went into her room to hop online. She had to figure out how much money they had, down to the penny, and didn't think she was going to like what she came up with. After signing onto her bank account, she scrolled through the checks that had yet to clear and tallied up what was due the first week of the month. The good news was that she was still going to get her pay for November.
Their savings account had just under eleven grand in it.
There was nothing left to sell. And no fat on the monthly budget.
Lusie would have to stop coming. Which would suck, because she'd take on another client to fill the spot, so when Ehlena found a new job there'd be a nursing care hole to plug.
Although that was assuming she could get another position. Sure as hell it wasn't going to be in nursing. Getting fired for cause was not what any employer wanted to see on a résumé.
Why had she lifted those f**king pills?
Ehlena sat staring at the screen adding and readding all the little numbers until they blurred together, not even the sum of them registering anymore.
"Daughter mine?"
She quickly shut down the laptop, because her father didn't do well with electronics, and composed her face. "Yes? I mean, yes?"
"I wonder if you would care to read a passage or two of my work? You seem anxious, and I find such pursuits calm my mind." He shuffled to the side and gallantly extended his arm.
Ehlena stood up because sometimes all a person could do was accept the direction of others. She didn't want to read any of the gibberish he had committed to the page. Couldn't bear to pretend that everything was okay. Wished that, even if just for an hour, she could have her parent back so she could talk through the bad position she had landed them both in.