The Beast

But she didn’t dwell on all the deluxe.

No, she looked at Z and Bella. The pair of them were seated directly across from her, and it was impossible not to watch them as they traded Nalla back and forth, Z choosing morsels off his plate to hand-feed the toddler, Bella dabbing at the chubby chin or tucking a fantastic pink frilly outfit out of the way. From time to time, the parents would lock eyes over the child and a word would be spoken, or maybe just a smile shared.

Mary frowned at the slave bands that had been tattooed on Z’s wrists and neck. They seemed so dark against his tanned skin, an evil stain that was permanent.

She and Z had spent a lot of time in the basement by that old boiler, talking about what had been done to him when he’d been a blood slave. So much abuse. So many scars, inside and out. But he had come through it, triumphed over his past, forged not only a beautiful relationship with the female he loved, but also with the incredible blessing of his daughter.

Jeez, and she was worried about anything that had happened in her own life? Yes, she had had to take care of her mother as the woman died. Yes, she’d had a disease. Yes, she had lost her ability to have children. But that was nothing compared to what Zsadist had been put through, what Bitty had suffered through.

If Z could overcome the torture and the sexual abuse to be a good father to his precious little girl? Now, that was strength.

Mary rubbed the center of her chest, massaging the pain that was still dogging her. Sure, she and Rhage had talked things through, and of course she felt good that he seemed to know where he stood. But it was almost as if Rhage’s sorrow over their inability to have a family was something she’d caught like a cold. After they had finished talking, after they had made love and then settled into their bed, after he had fallen asleep and commenced that percolating snore of his beside her . . . she had stayed awake all day, listening to the dim sounds of the doggen speaking in hushed tones, smelling the faint scent of lemon floor polish, tracking the quiet whir of a vacuum out by Wrath’s office.

She had not slept at all.

The question she had never bothered answering just would not stop posing itself over and over in her head. And, Jesus, what a pain in the ass it was. She could have sworn she’d gotten over the whole child thing before it even started.

Yes, her infertility had saved them both, but it did not mean that it wasn’t a loss—

“Hey.”

Shaking herself, she pinned a smile on her face and resolutely focused on the food that had magically appeared on her plate. Huh, she clearly had served herself and been unaware of it.

“Hey, yourself,” she said with determined cheerfulness. “How’s your half of a cow going down—”

“Mary,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, she shifted her eyes over. He had turned his whole body to her and was looking at her in that way he did, as if everything around him had disappeared, as if nothing else existed but her.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And you’re the only thing I’m ever going to need.”

She blinked hard. And then told herself that if she were smart, she would believe him with every fiber of her being.

That was the way to keep going.

“Have I told you lately,” she said roughly, “that I am the luckiest female on the planet?”

Leaning in, he kissed her softly. “You did. Right before we got down to it at daybreak.”

As he eased back, looking all self-satisfied, she smiled. And then started to laugh. “You are pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He refocused on his roast beef, the picture of innocence. “But if you really do feel lucky, I have a great way for you to show it.”

Mary picked up her own fork and knife and discovered she was, in fact, hungry. “I should send you a card, then?”

Now as he glanced over, his teal eyes were burning. “Nah, words only go so far. And I have nothing planned after work tonight sooooooo . . .”

While he deliberately ran his tongue around one fang, his stare dipped down low, as if he were imagining her sitting in the chair completely naked—and he intended to drop his napkin and go on all fours to find it under the table.

Mary’s body started to heat, and her head began to swim, and her skin tingled.

“I can’t wait,” she breathed.

“Neither can I, Mary mine. Neither can I.”

* * *

Rhage sent Mary off after First Meal was done, standing on the front steps of the mansion and waving as she and the Volvo disappeared down the hill and into the mhis. After she was gone, he stayed there for a moment, breathing the cold air.

It was obvious that all the heavy-duty they’d grappled with was lingering for her, but how could it not? Hell, as they’d headed into the dining room together, he’d braced himself for another onslaught of his own emotional shit. But clearly, he’d gotten to the root of his problem, processed it—or whatever the term was—and been able to get to a different place. Seeing his brothers with their young hadn’t been upsetting; he’d actually been able to help Mary when it became obvious she was having a collywobble.

Being back on track with her felt incredible. Being there for her when she needed him? Even fucking better.

And now it was time to go to work.

When he turned back to face the mansion, he was a deadly machine.

Stalking up the stone steps and through the vestibule, he joined his brothers in the foyer. No one was speaking as everybody got good and armed, strapping twelve different kinds of metal to their chests and their thighs and under their arms.