Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8) - J.R. Ward Page 0,20

was collapsed in front of the bureau, with one of his shoulders higher than the other, she thought it was entirely possible she had dislocated his upper arm. And that wasn't his only injury. Black blood dripped off his chin from the split lip she'd given him and he was going to walk with a limp after she'd bitten him in the thigh. His eyes roamed over her and she didn't bother to cover herself with her hands. If he was up for round two, she needed every ounce of strength she had left. And besides, modesty mattered only if you gave a shit about your body and she'd long ago lost that connection.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked. With a grunt, he pushed himself up off the floor, and he needed the edge of the dresser for support as he did some experimentation with that arm of his.

"Do you?" he prompted.

"No."

"Cynical." He gimped over to the archway that led into the bathroom. Standing in between the jambs, he braced one hand against the wall, faced off to the left, and took a deep breath.

With a slam, he put his upper arm back into its socket and the crack and curse were loud. As he sagged afterward, his breath coming in hard draws, the cuts on his face left black smudges of lesser blood on the white molding. Turning toward her, he smiled.

"Care for a shower with me?" When she stayed silent, he shook his head. "No? Pity."

He disappeared into the marble expanse and after a moment, water came on.

It was only after she could hear him washing himself and smelled the fragrance of that milled soap that she carefully rearranged her legs and arms. No weakness. She showed him no weakness. And it wasn't just about wanting to appear strong so he would think twice about tangoing with her again. Her nature refused to relent to him or anyone else. She would die 58

fighting.

It was just how she was hardwired: She was invincible--and that wasn't her ego talking. The sum of her experience was, no matter what was done to her, she could handle it.

But dear Lord, she hated fighting him. Hated this whole fucking thing. When he came out a little later, he was clean and already healing up, the bruises fading, the scrapes disappearing, the bones reknitting like magic. Just her luck. The goddamn Energizer Bunny.

"I'm off to see my father." As he came over to her, she bared her fangs and he seemed momentarily complimented. "I love your smile."

"Not a smile, asshole."

"Whatever you call it, I like it. And someday I'll introduce you to dear old Dad. I have plans for us."

Lash went to lean down, no doubt to try to kiss her, but as she hissed deep in her throat, he paused and reconsidered.

"I'll be back," he whispered. "My love." He knew she hated the "love" crap, so she was careful to swallow her reaction. She also didn't taunt him as he turned and left. The more she refused to play into the situation, the more tangled he became and the clearer her head was.

Listening to him moving around in the room next door, she pictured him getting dressed. He kept his clothes in the other room, having moved them out after it became clear how things were going to roll between them: He hated messes and was fastidious about his threads. When things quieted down and she heard him descend the stairs, she took a deep breath and dragged herself up off the floor. The bathroom was still steamy and tropical from his shower, and though she hated using the same soap he did, she disliked what was on her skin even more. The moment she stepped under the hot spray, the marble at her feet turned both red and black as two kinds of blood washed off of her body and disappeared down the drain. She was quick with the suds and rinse, because Lash had left only moments before and you could never tell with him. Sometimes he came right back. Other times he didn't show again for a whole day.

The fragrance of the fancy-ass French shit Lash insisted on stocking his bathroom with made her gag, even though she supposed most females would have enjoyed the blend of lavender and jasmine. Man, she wished she had a dose of Rehv's good ol' Dial. Although no doubt that would sting like a bitch on the cuts, she was