Lassiter, page 32
Ah, yes, she thought as she recalled the symbol upon the door. They only allowed females herein.
“Oh, thank you,” she said as she went to take the bundle from him.
He poked his head in and smiled. “I figured you’d want something a little more substantial than scrubs.”
“Whomever do I owe for this,” she murmured as she riffled through the fresh jeans, shirt, and fleece.
“Beth is awesome.”
“Oh, how kind of her. Is there any chance that perhaps I could express my gratitude in person?”
“Absolutely. She headed back up to the big house, but when I’m there, I’ll have her come down again.” As his eyes sought hers, they dipped to her mouth—and with a flush, she knew exactly what he was thinking of. “I’m sorry I’ve got to go. I just feel like I need to check in with the Brotherhood.”
“Oh, but of course.” She put her hand in his. “You must. And take your time. I should enjoy a shower in this—what is it called again?”
“Locker room. And you should feel free to explore the training center. They’ve got a pool down here, classrooms—have a snack, even though I intend to take you to dinner, remember?”
Yes, our date, she thought happily. “I shall explore.”
There was a pause. Then he lowered his head such that he stared at her from under his lids. “I wish I were showering with you.”
As a flush warmed her through and through, she purred. “There is always later in the night.”
“Indeed.”
The kiss started with a peck, but didn’t end that way. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, and he was pushing her back with his body, and the clothes were slipping out of her grasp. When she and her lover finally came up for air, both of them were breathing hard.
Lassiter brushed a length of her hair behind her ear. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Do take your time.”
He kissed her quick again. Kissed her a third time.
Then bent down and gathered up the things that had fallen out of her hands.
“Be back soon,” he murmured.
As he walked off, she leaned out and watched him go. His stride was long and purposeful, and his hair flowed behind him. When he disappeared through a glass door, she wondered how far they were away from the First Family’s house. Not far, she was guessing, if the loaner of the clothing could just “go back up” or however he had phrased it. Indeed, there was probably an underground tunnel somewhere that provided linkage, and for that, she was grateful.
She had hated what had happened last night at the club, and if one of the Brothers’ females was kind enough to lend clothes to a stranger, Rahvyn had to imagine there were many good people in this community. Kind, good people. She would hate such violence e’er to come upon them, especially in their home.
Ducking back inside the locker room, she glanced around at all the metal vertical cabinets. Then she returned to the showers’ enclave, chose the first stall, and closed the curtain. Changing out of what she had on was a bit of a relief, and, oh, the hot water.
Soap, shampoo, and various other supplies were in a metal basin upon the wall, but she just stood under the rush for a while, enjoying the sensations of the gentle fall of rain and the warmth and the humidity. Her body was sore in places that made her smile, and when she finally took to the cleansing, she felt a kind of wonder as her hands passed the bar over her breasts, her stomach… between her legs.
With everything washed, including her hair, she gave herself a little longer, but then began to feel guilty at how much hot water she was using. Back in the Old Country, such a luxury was rare and precious.
When she got out, she took a white towel off a little ledge in the dressing part of the stall and she dried herself off. As she reached for the shirt to put on, a packet slipped out of its folds. It was a plastic bag that read “Hanes,” and inside were three pairs of fresh underwear.
“How thoughtful.”
She chose the red ones, and imagined, as she put them on, Lassiter removing them. And didn’t that make her flush.
The shirt was soft and white, the fleece was a lightweight cotton layer with a zipper in front, and the jeans were a little long, but otherwise perfect. She collected her own clothes—or rather those that had been given to her at Luchas House—and left them on the bench in the cabinet area.
As she went to the exit, she had a thought she would pick them up on her way home—and stopped.
Glancing back, she regarded the little pile and realized that she had no home. Luchas House had been a stopgap. The alternate plane where the Book was sequestered was not a residence. And the rustic cottage in that field, back in the Old Country, was no doubt long gone by now.
And yes, Sahvage had told her that she could live with him and his new shellan, but she did not feel right about that. He had done his duty caretaking her, and now he should be able to live without the burden of—
She considered the cave. And Lassiter.
Yes, she thought. When she considered the subject of going home, that place she had only been to once before was what was in her heart. Although that had more to do with where the angel was… than the location itself.
* * *
Striding down the subterranean tunnel that connected the training center to the main house, Lassiter was nervous as hell. Given his personality and the whole immortal thing, him being this kind of stressed was a new experience. He’d known despair, sure. Generic sadness. Boredom—often. Panic—when he hadn’t been able to find Rahvyn the night before.
But this twitchy, vibrating anxiety was a new one.
Yay. Personal growth.
Stopping in front of a steel door, he punched in a code, went up a short-stack stairwell, and entered another code. Emerging from under the mansion’s grand staircase, he took a deep breath. He’d always liked the way the big house smelled, all lemon wax, old-fashioned floor polish, and homemade bread in an oven.
Man, if there was a way to bottle this, it could be called Mom’s.
Not that he’d had one.
Although he wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, it was clear First Meal had come and gone: Not only was there no one eating in the dining room, he could also tell by the scent of dishwashing liquid wafting through from the kitchen, and the sweet chiming of silverware being scooped up off the big table as place settings were swapped out.
He went to the right, to the foyer. At the base of the grand staircase, he looked up. The red carpet and all the gold leaf of the balustrades made him think of the tsars, and so did the crystal sconces and the marble columns. The art installations weren’t bad, either: Under his feet, the mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom was a masterpiece, and overhead, three stories up, the fresco of great warriors on stallions was also one for the history books.
But all was not museum-serene.
Up on the second-floor landing, the double doors of Wrath’s study burst open, and the sound of male voices in a full-on argument exploded out and echoed around. The chaos was cut off as the panels were re-shut.
Sahvage appeared at the top landing all dressed for war, the black daggers on his chest not just a symbol of his status but the tools of his trade. With his hair freshly shorn and his eyes hyperalert, the brother was exactly who anyone would want on their front line.
“You rang,” the male said as he came down, light on his feet, in spite of his heavy weight. “And I’m surprised you’re not up there with us.”
“I’ll join in after you and I… you know, talk. How’s it going?”
Sahvage jumped off the last two steps, landing with a muffled boom. “They’re arguing about whether or not to close down the Audience House. Permanently or otherwise.”
Lassiter frowned. “Why would they do that?”
The story was told efficiently, and when the brother was finished, Lassiter had a pit in his stomach. “And they think it was the Omega’s son? How the hell’d he find the place?”
“Don’t know. But between that drive-by of Fritz, or whatever the hell it was, and the lesser in the back of that club last night, we’re clearly back in business in the worst possible way.” Sahvage narrowed his eyes. “Hey, are you all right?”
Nope. He didn’t want to think about evil, or any of its forms, not tonight. Not any night, actually.
“Ah… yeah.” As a vacuum started whirrrrrring in the background, Lassiter glanced toward the billiards room. “Can we, ah, go in there for a minute? This won’t take long and then we can head upstairs.”
Sahvage nodded, and the two of them side-by-side’d their way into the other space. Walking around the green felt tables, Lassiter eyed the leather couch he’d spent so much time on. The remote was on the arm, just where he liked it, and there was a sealed bottle of his favorite Tropicana orange juice on the coffee table.
“I love Fritz,” he murmured as he touched the whacker and pivoted to the massive flat-screen.
So many days he’d sat here and fired up that TV, tuning out the world to Betty White.
“That doggen is something else for sure.” Sahvage deliberately stepped in front of him. “Let’s not fuck around, shall we—and frankly, I don’t know why, if you want a QT conversation, it’s not with Tohr. He’s not only the King’s right-hand male, he’s a helluva lot more stable than I am—”
“This isn’t about the war. Or the Brotherhood.”
Across the foyer in the dining room, his peripheral vision picked up a maid in the house’s black-and-white uniform as she started pulling out chairs and running an old-school box broom under the table to make sure there were no crumbs anywhere.
In his mind, during the day in the cave, he’d pictured a much more private scene for this.
Sahvage’s brow went up. “Well, if you’re looking for advice about what to watch on your boob tube over here, I’m not your guy. You’d better ask Rhage. Or if you want to turn over a new leaf and try some stuff that doesn’t melt your brain, Mary is the way to go—”
“It’s about Rahvyn.”
All at once, everything about the male changed. No more jokey-jokey, and those eyes got real focused. “What.”
Lassiter took a couple of steps toward the TV. Came back. Then he rerouted and headed for the bar—remembered he didn’t drink, reconsidered the abstinence thing. Came back.
Meanwhile, Sahvage stayed right where he was, his expression getting grimmer.
Finally, Lassiter just threw his hands up in defeat. Then again, why had he thought this was going to be easy? “Look, I know I don’t have the best reputation for being a serious guy. I fuck around a lot and you don’t really know me outside of my poking the shit out of V or chilling on that sofa. But the reality is…”
When he couldn’t go on, Sahvage took a step in. “Have you seen something about her? In the future? Is it bad? What’s going on—”
“I’m in love with her. And I want your permission to ask her to mate me. I want to be her hellren.”
In the aftermath of the announcement, Sahvage was so dumbfounded, there was a temptation to call Doc Jane for a stroke eval.
Then the brother opened his mouth. Shut it. Leaned in even closer. “I’m sorry… what?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
In the training center, Rahvyn stepped out of the locker room. The corridor that ran through the facility was empty, but she could hear people talking down where the clinic was. She imagined the healers and the nurse with their heads together, discussing something that would make someone feel and function better, because the infirmed had an injury or a wound or an illness.
They had been so kind to her.
A rhythmic noise that she couldn’t place drew her attention, and she decided to follow the sound. As she passed by the glass door Lassiter had used, she glanced into an office space, and reflected that in her short sojourn here in this current time, she had learned so much. New words, new things, new places.
Continuing on, she came to a set of doors with little windows in them, the glass of which was striped with some kind of wire. On the far side, a broad, high-ceilinged space was revealed, one with a glossy honey-colored floor, sets of shallow stairs flanking both sides, and a pair of netted baskets suspended by arms at each end.
There was a male at the far station, bouncing an orange ball. Which explained the sounds.
And she knew who it was, even though his back was to her.
When she opened one half of the doors, the scent confirmed what she already knew to be true, and though there was no squeak of hinges, the male captured the orange ball and swung around. Dressed in a sweatshirt and loose bottoms, Nate nevertheless looked older somehow, though in fact, none of his features had changed. Mayhap it was in the eyes, she decided.
“Hi,” she said as she lifted a hand in greeting.
He bounced the ball once. Twice. “Hi.”
“I, ah…” She indicated the door she’d just come through. “I was just down here and I heard this noise.”
“I’m warming up.” He bounced the ball again. “I’m not any kind of basketball player, though.”
Rahvyn nodded at the netted circle suspended behind him. “That is the target?”
“The rim, yes.”
“Rim.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she glanced across to the steps that seemed, in her view, to offer spectators places to sit and regard the game. Then she lifted her eyes upward and noted that as with the locker room, the ceiling lights were caged.
“I’m sorry about last night—”
“I don’t blame you for being mad at me—”
There was an awkward shared laugh as they both spoke. And then Nate took the lead, his voice deeper than she remembered.
“I was rude. I’m sorry for that. I’ve been having…” He rubbed his forehead with his thumb. “I haven’t been sleeping and my head’s all fucked up—screwed up, I mean.”
“I understand why. And I wish I hadn’t left after that night. I had to… it was required of me to help with something.”
“And now you’re back?” He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes, his stare hovering off to one side or the other. “In Caldwell.”
“Yes, for a little while—”
“Do you love him.” Now he looked at her straight-on. “Lassiter. Just tell me, please, even though it’s none of my business—and I already know the answer.”
Rahvyn opened her mouth. Closed it. Finally found her voice. “I do, yes.”
Nate nodded and started walking toward her, that ball trading places between the flooring and his palm, the sound like a healthy heartbeat, slow and regular.
“I saw you two in the meadow with all the flowers.” As her brows popped up, he shrugged. “It was after—well, I went to Luchas House to see you, you know…”
He stopped in front of her, his eyes roaming around before they re-locked on hers. “Actually, I think I’m just going to be honest here, so we clear the air. I brought you flowers that night. Nothing like the ones all over that field—just supermarket flowers because they’re what I can afford.”
“Oh, Nate…” As she released an exhale, she blamed herself for not noticing and being more sensitive to any feelings he might have garnered for her. She had been so heedless in that regard. “I am so sorry.”
Putting up his palm, he said, “No, don’t apologize. In a way, if you love him—I mean, honestly love him? It kind of makes it easier. At least you’re not with me for a big reason, an important one. Not because you think I’m a five out of ten, wouldn’t recommend.”
“Five out of ten?”
“Never mind, just a saying.”
As he palmed the ball and glanced down, she rushed into the silence. “I think you are a wonderful male, Nate. And you are going to—”
“Please don’t patronize me. I know you don’t mean to be demeaning, but that’s what it feels like on my end. Besides, you don’t owe me anything. It’s not like a person can change their emotions. They are what they are.”
He was right about that. But she hated that he was hurting—and to tell him that she hadn’t been aware of his side of things seemed insulting, as if she hadn’t seen him properly.
Which she had not.
“But I am sorry,” she told him. “That you have any kind of pain, and that is a truth which shall endure.”
Nate bounced the ball using both his hands: left, floor, right, floor, left. Then he caught it again.
“Does he love you? I mean… really love you?” When she inclined her head, he took a deep breath. “That’s good. That’s the way it should be.”
“You shall find someone, Nate, I promise you—” As he tried to interrupt, she shook her head. “Let me finish. I did not believe that I would ever discover someone to love me for what I am. So convinced was I that I did not even look. And yet destiny provided me with my soul mate. The same shall be true of you.”
“So you guys are going to get mated and live happily ever after?” He looked at her. “And I’m not saying this to be a douche.”
There it was, that word again. “Indeed, there is no reason to paddle yourself.”
Nate frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Douchedinghy? Is that the word?”
He laughed a little. “Canoe. I think you mean douche canoe.”
“Ah, yes, that is the saying.” She smiled at him, forcing the expression because she desperately wanted things to be okay between the two of them. “And, no, there are no plans for us to be mated. Our situation is not like that.”
“Because he’s the new Scribe Virgin, huh.”
She nodded. “And I am—well, I do not know how long I shall be around.”
Nate’s brows united over the bridge of his fine, straight nose. “Where will you go. If he’s here, if Sahvage and Mae are here?”
“I take things evening by evening. That is just the way things are.” She hesitated. “Listen, Shuli and I spoke and…”
“He told you. About last night in the woods.” When she nodded, Nate blew out a long breath and looked at the other netted circle, the one that was quite far away. “Nobody needs to worry about that. My head was really fucked up. I have clarity now, though.”
