The Beast (Black Dagger Brotherhood #14) - J. R. Ward Page 0,45

and found that, other than having turned to face the bathroom, he remained out cold.

Probably because she’d told the beast what was up.

As she was blowing dry her hair, she wondered where the Volvo had ended up. She had ridden here from the battle in the surgical unit, but surely someone had brought that station wagon back?

Well, she could always take something else to Safe Place.

Fifteen minutes later, she whispered her way across to the door. After a prolonged stare at Rhage, she opened the way out and—

“Oh! God!” she hissed as she recoiled.

The very last thing she had expected to see was the entire Brotherhood standing outside her hellren’s recovery room.

Then again, she should have known. Everyone was there, from V and Butch to Phury and Z … Blay and Qhuinn … Tohr and John Matthew … even Wrath and Rehvenge. It was like standing in front of a football squad … that was made up of pro wrestlers … in full-contact game gear.

Okay that didn’t go even far enough to describe the amount of male in the corridor.

“Hey, guys,” she said quietly as she pulled the handle and made sure things were closed. “He’s asleep right now, but I’m sure he won’t mind being woken up.”

“We didn’t come for him,” Wrath said in a low voice.

Mary’s brows popped as she looked at their King. “Oh.”

Jeez, had she done something wrong? It was hard to know given that Wrath, with his widow’s peak and his wraparound sunglasses, always looked pissed off.

The guy didn’t have resting bitch face so much as resting I’m-going-to-kill-someone-and-light-their-house-on-fire face.

Swallowing hard, she stammered, “I, ah—”

“Thank you, Mary,” the King said as he stepped forward with his seeing eye dog, George. “Thank you for saving our brother’s life.”

For a moment, she was utterly dumbfounded. And then the King was pulling her into a hard, tight embrace.

When Wrath stepped back, there was something hanging off her shoulder.

A sword? “Wait, what is this?” She jerked into a second recoil. “Why is this—oh, my God…”

The weapon was made of ornate gold, from hilt to sheath, and there were gems flashing on it everywhere, white and red. Likewise, the ruby red sash it hung from was festooned with precious stones and metal. It looked old. Old … and priceless.

“Wrath, I can’t accept this—this is too much—”

“You have performed a service of valor unto the throne,” the King announced. “In saving the life of a member of my private guard, you are held in the highest royal esteem—and may call upon me to perform at your direction a benefit of comparable worth at some future time.”

She shook her head over and over again. “That is not necessary. Really. It’s not.”

And suddenly, she felt bad. Very bad. Because she hadn’t saved Rhage for these wonderful males who loved him so. Hadn’t saved him for herself, either.

God, why … why did that one moment have to be contaminated with all the drama with Bitty?

Mary went to take the sword off. “Really, I can’t—”

One by one, the Brothers came to her, embracing her with hard pulls, holding on to her until her spine bent and her ribs couldn’t expand. Some of them spoke in her ear, saying things that resonated not just because of the words that were chosen, but from the respect and reverence in the tones of those deep voices. Others just made a lot of throat-clearing noises, in the way men did when they were struggling to stay strong and composed in the face of great emotion. And then there was John Matthew, the one she had begun this crazy journey with, the one who had started it all by calling into the suicide hotline she had been volunteering at.

Vishous was the second-to-last of the Brothers to come to her, and as he held her, she caught of a whiff of tobacco. Along with leather. And gunpowder. “We owe you,” he said curtly. “Forever.”

Wiping her eyes, she shook her head once more. “You give me way too much credit.”

“Not even close,” he said as he brushed her cheek with his gloved hand. Staring down at her, his diamond eyes and harsh face with its tattoos were as close to tender as she’d ever seen them. “You knew what to do—”

“But I didn’t, V. I really don’t have a clue where that idea came from.”

For a moment, he frowned. Then he shrugged. “Well, whatever. You gave us our brother back. And even though he’s a pain in the ass, life wouldn’t be the