do such a kindness?»
Vishous glanced back at the lone yellow bird in the midst of the white tree. He pictured the
branches filled once again.
«True,» he said.
Without another word he dematerialized back to the life he'd been given, the life he was
leading… the life he now, and for the first time, was grateful he'd been born into.
Turn the page for a sneak preview of Phury's story
LOVER ENSHRINED
in the sixth book in the New York Times-bestselling Black Dagger Brotherhood series. …
Phury, Zsadist's twin brother, makes the ultimate sacrifice and stands in for a fellow brother to
become the chosen-until he comes face-to-face with the only woman who can tempt his heart
and make him question his chosen destiny…
A house can be empty even when it's full of people. And wasn't that a good thing.
Phury lurched around one of the mansion's countless corners, putting his hand out to steady
himself. Man, he was wasted. How many blunts of red smoke? How much hooch?
Well, he'd started at midnight. It was now… He had no idea what time it was.
Whatever. Trying to get a tally on the bender would have been a waste of time anyway. Given
how fogged out he was, it was doubtful he could count high enough, and besides, he couldn't
really recall what his hourly rate of consumption had been. All he knew was that he'd left his
room when his three bottles of gin had run out. Originally he'd planned to get more so he could
keep making martinis, but then he'd just started wandering.
Hanging a right, he kept going along slowly, the base of his brain starting to fire with the need
for another hit of red smoke. He was on the verge of turning back when he heard sounds coming
down from the third floor's back stairwell.
Someone was up in the movie theater. Which meant he needed to beat feet in the opposite
direction. Running into one of his brothers would so be a bad thing. Although the Brotherhood
suspected he had a little problem with the red smoke-hello, his room smelled like a Starbucks
all the time-having his nasty habits out in the open was just going to lead to drama.
As he turned away, he caught the scent of jasmine and stopped dead.
Cormia… Cormia was up there.
Letting himself fall back against the wall, he scrubbed his face and wondered what she was
doing out and about. The Chosen rarely left her guest room except for meals.
What was she doing? And who was she with?
Phury ran a hand through his thick hair. Straightened his black silk shirt. Jacked up his cream
Prada trousers. He might be totally cooked, but at least he looked like a gentleman.
Using the brass handrail to steady his big body, he went up the stairs knowing he was pulling a
bad move. If you were barely in good enough shape to walk, you absolutely shouldn't interact
with the Chosen female with whom you were supposed to mate as the Primale… especially
considering that she'd been forced into the arrangement and you were a recently retired celibate
whose sexual experience was pretty much limited to an uncompleted quickie with a prostitute in
a bathroom at ZeroSum.
He got to the top of the stairs and pushed open the padded door. The movie theater had a real
1940s Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer vibe, decked out in retro style with low-level lights in brass cups
and Art Deco palm reliefs running up the red-and-black walls. The stadium seating wasn't the
kind you'd ever find in a ballpark. There were twenty-one chairs set back in three sections, the
aisles marked with little rows of lights. Each of the leather ass-palaces was the size of a twin bed,
and collectively they had more drink cup holders than a Boeing 747.
Cormia was down in front, part of her white Chosen's robe hanging off the arm of her chair. Up
on the screen images were flickering fast. She was rewinding a scene.
God, she smelled good. Although for some reason that jasmine scent of hers was especially
strong tonight.
The rewinding stopped and Phury glanced up at the vast screen-
Holy… Christ. It was… a love scene. Patrick Swayze and that Jennifer woman with the nose
were working each other out on a bed. Dirty Dancing.
Cormia leaned forward in the chair, her face coming into view. Her eyes were rapt on what was
in front of her, her lips parted, one hand resting on the base of her throat. Long blond hair fell
over her shoulder and brushed the top of her knee.
Phury's body hardened, his erection popping a tent in the front of his slacks, laying waste to the
tailored pleating. Through the haze of red smoke, his sex roared, although not because of what
was on the screen. Cormia was the trigger.
The bastard in him pointed out that he was the Chosen's Primale and she was his first among the
others and it was about time they did what they were supposed to do. He had every right by law
and custom to march down the shallow steps, drop to his knees in front of her, and push her
robing to her hips. He was totally allowed to slide his hands up her thighs and spread her wide
and dip down with his head. And after he got her good and wet with his mouth, he could
absolutely unzip his pants, spring himself, and penetrate her over and over again until he came.
Phury groaned. Okay, that kind of pep talk was so not helping. Besides, he'd never gone down on
a woman before, so he wasn't sure what to do-
The bastard voice pointed out that if he could eat an ice-cream cone, the licking and sucking
would translate pretty damn well.
Shut. Up.
He forced himself to turn back to the stairs. Leaving was the only decent thing to do. Sure, she'd
lay with him out of duty. Hell, she'd been trained for it, she expected it, she wanted to discharge
her obligation. After all, it was only after the two of them mated that the Chosen had their
precious Primale, their stud. She was taking one for the team, as it were, and how noble was
that?
Trouble was, the whole deal smacked of coercion. She'd been chosen. She hadn't chose him.
«Your grace?»
Cormia's voice froze Phury's feet to the floor. Damn it…
The movie theater went dark as if she'd canned the movie. «Your grace, do you… need
something?»
Do not turn back around.
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes casting a yellow light down the backs of the chairs and the
carpeted steps. Cormia was illuminated by his glowing stare, resplendent in her white robe.
«What were you watching?» he said in a low voice, even though it was perfectly obvious what
had been up on the screen.
«Ah… John picked the movie.»
«You picked that scene, though, didn't you? And you watched it over and over again. Didn't
you?»
Her reply was more breath than voice. «Yes… I did.»
«Why that scene?» he asked, knowing perfectly well the why of it. She was aroused. That was
the reason her natural fragrance was so strong. She liked what she was looking at.
As he waited for her to answer, he knew he had to leave. What was pounding through his blood
had nothing to with rituals or obligations or propriety. It was straight-out, hard-core sex, the kind
that was going to leave them both exhausted and sweaty and messy and probably a little bruised.
And to his total discredit, he didn't care that she was aroused because of the movie. It didn't
matter that it wasn't about him.
«Why did you pick the scene, Cormia?»
Her graceful hand went back to the base of her throat. «Because… it made me think of you.»
Phury exhaled on a growl. It was the very last thing he expected her to say, as he was the very
last thing he expected her to want. Duty was one thing. But she didn't have the look of a female
worried about meeting an obligation. She wanted sex. Maybe even needed it. Just like he did.
And she wanted it with him.
In slow motion, he pivoted toward her, his body suddenly very coordinated. He was going to
take her. Here.
Now. It was time to complete the Primale ceremony, seal the pact they'd taken on five months
ago, seal it with their bodies.
Phury headed down the shallow steps, ready to claim his female.
| | |
|