Lover Reborn (Black Dagger Brotherhood #10) - J. R. Ward Page 0,7

the fact that the electric system wasn’t operational anymore: As much as she experienced a person’s emotions as if they were a private home, there were no subcontracting workers to come in and repair what was wrong, no plumbers or electricians or painters for this shit. The homeowner had to perform their own improvements on what was broken, battered, and busted; no one else could do it for them.

As she stepped out into the hall of statues, Xhex had a tremor go through her own little house. Then again, the robed, limping figure up ahead was her mother.

God, that still felt weird to say, even if only in her head—and it didn’t really apply on so many levels, did it?

She cleared her throat. “Good evening … ah…”

It didn’t sound right to throw out mahmen or mom or mommy. No’One, the name the female went by, wasn’t comfortable, either. Then again, what could you call somebody who had been abducted by a symphath, violently forced to conceive, and then trapped by biology to bear the result of the torture?

First and last name: I and Sorry. Middle name: Am.

As No’One shifted around, the hood that was in place covered her face. “Good evening. How fare thee?”

The English was stiff across her mother’s lips, suggesting the female would have done better speaking in the Old Language. And the bow that she gave, which was utterly unnecessary, was lopsided, likely because of whatever injury that caused the uneven gait.

That scent she threw off was not anything by Chanel. Unless they’d recently added a Tragedy line.

“I’m well.” Try restless and bored. “Where are you going?”

“To tidy up the sitting room.”

Xhex sucked back a wince of don’t-go-there. Fritz didn’t let anyone but fellow doggen lift a finger in the mansion—and No’One, in spite of the fact that she had come here to attend to Payne, was staying in a guest room, eating at the table with the Brothers, and accepted here as the mother of a mated shellan. She was not a maid by any standard.

“Yeah, ah … how’d you like to…” Do what? Xhex wondered. What could the two of them possibly do together? Xhex was a fighter. Her mother was … a ghost with substance. Not a lot of common ground there.

“It is all right,” No’One said gently. “These are awkward—”

Thunder roared through the foyer below, sure as if clouds had formed, lightning flashed, and rain had started to piss down. As No’One recoiled, Xhex glared over her shoulder. What the hell was—

Rhage, a.k.a. Hollywood, a.k.a. the biggest and most beautiful of the Brothers, all but leaped up onto the second-floor balcony. As he landed, his blond head shot around in her direction, his teal eyes on fire.

“John Matthew called. It’s all hands on deck downtown. Get armed and meet us at the front door in ten minutes.”

“Hot damn,” Xhex hissed as she smacked her palms.

When she turned back to her mother, the female was trembling, and trying not to show it.

“It’s okay,” Xhex said. “I’m good at fighting. I’m not going to get hurt.”

Nice words. Except that wasn’t what the female was worried about, was it: Her grid was showing fear … of Xhex.

Duh. Given that she was a half-breed symphath, of course No’One would think “dangerous” before “daughter.”

“I’ll leave you alone,” Xhex said. “Don’t worry.”

As she jogged back toward her bedroom, she couldn’t ignore the fact that her chest was killing her. But then, she couldn’t ignore reality, either: Her mother hadn’t wanted her.

And still didn’t.

And who could blame her.

* * *

From beneath the brim of her hooded robe, No’One watched the tall, strong, merciless female she had birthed rush off to fight against the enemy.

Xhexania didn’t seem fazed at all by the idea that she would be facing deadly lessers: Indeed, that sneer she had shown upon the Brother’s command suggested she would relish it.

No’One’s knees went weak as she thought about what she had brought forth into the world, this female with power in her limbs and vengeance in her heart. No female of the glymera would respond such as that; then again, they would never be asked.

But the symphath was in her daughter.

Dearest Virgin Scribe…

And yet, as Xhexania had spun around, there had been an expression quickly hidden on her face.

No’One hurried forth, limping down the hallway to her daughter’s room. At the heavy door, she knocked softly.

It was a moment before Xhexania opened up. “Hey.”

“I am sorry.”

There was no reaction. That showed. “What for?”

“I know what it is