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Lover Released	By : Hoping4More Category: A through F > Black Dagger Brotherhood Views: 3573 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Black Dagger Brotherhood, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Tara held her hand out to allow Tru to help her step down from the passenger side of his truck. Her black stilettos made an echoing clack on the paved drive but she held steady, comfortable and confident in her knee-length teal dress. She was dressed a little on the conservative side tonight, with capped sleeves and an A-line silhouette. Her hair was pulled back into a sophisticated chignon. Tru had insisted that she didn’t need to worry about what she wore to meet his parents, but Tara couldn’t help but dress the part.
She breathed in the sweet fragrance of the night-blooming flowers along the walkway to the front entrance as they approached the house. The large white colonial house was silver-blue in the moonlight, dominating the clearing at the end of a long drive surrounded by cedars. It seemed too big for only two people, but then again Tru’s parents weren’t your average couple—they were from Old-money, and his sire was a very successful business man in his own right.
Barron and Lydia were very prominent members of the glymera and their wealth rivalled that of royalty. Tara had found their status a little intimidating before she knew Tru, and she would be lying to herself if she thought it didn’t matter now, but after some of the stories that he had told her about his sire, her perspective was a little different.
A beautiful young vampire opened the door before Tru’s hand had reached the handle. She was dressed in a short black dress and five inch heals. Her long blond hair hung in a golden curtain framing her heavily made-up face. Tara furrowed her brown in confusion. Tru hadn’t mentioned any other sisters.
“Welcome home Intrudehr,” the petite female bowed her head slightly with a coy smile. She spared a brief glance toward Tara and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow before returning her focus back to Tru. Tara bristled under her scrutiny. Who is this female? Her mental shields had been firmly in place, but she probed the female carefully and was met by lust and hunger in equal measure. Her feelings were mirrored in her cobalt eyes. The hairs on the back of Tara’s neck stood on end.
“Saysha,” Tru nodded back. His shoulders tense and his face closed off. “This is Tehriffy,” he said, wrapping a possessive arm around Tara’s shoulders. She relaxed into him, sliding her own arm around his waist. The female stiffened visibly. “Saysha works for Bharron,” he explained.
“Nothing would get done around here without her,” a tall male said, stepping up behind Saysha in the doorway. His voice was low and raspy, a crackling fire on a cold night. He had a severe face, all angles and hard lines, and his close-cropped dark hair did nothing to soften his appearance. Tara struggled to find any resemblance to Tru, but found none. The tailored charcoal suit he wore looked like it cost as much as Tara’s bike. A little overkill for a dinner with the family, Tara thought, not impressed at all by the male’s posturing.
Her shields still open, Tara caught a fleeting impression of what exactly Saysha had gotten done earlier while Lydia was out, and her opinion of the older male plummeted impossibly lower. If she wasn’t there on orders from her sire—and commander, she would have made up an excuse and high-tailed it out of there. The mere feel of Bharron on her senses was an oily residue that threatened to cling to her mind and make her sick. So much lust, pride and contempt, all wrapped up in layers of hate and aggression. Tara slammed her shields back into place as bile rose up in her throat.
“Well don’t just stand there Intrudehr, introduce me to your female,” Bharron demanded.
“I am Tehrrify, daughter of Thrett,” Tara said, emphasizing her sire’s name, all pretence of civility absent from her tone. Bharron’s slate-grey eyes grew hard and his lips pulled down into a frown. Tru squeezed her shoulder and Tara opened her mind to him instinctually.
Calm down, we are here for information remember? Tru urged her silently.
“Tara, this is my sire, Bharron,” he said aloud.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you sir,” Tara said sweetly, her long-practiced pageantry sliding into place easily. A warm smile and perfected sparkle in her eyes. She wore that mask at every glymera event she had attended since she was a youngling. She projected calm and a touch of intrigue toward the older male and watched in triumph as his demeanour changed.
“Welcome to our home,” he said, stepping to the side and ushering them in. “Lydia is just putting the finishing touches on her outfit. I’ll inform her of your arrival.” Bharron swept up the carpeted grand staircase with a lethal grace Tara was familiar with but didn’t expect of the wealthy male—perhaps Tru gets that from his sire.
“Can I take your coat?” Saysha asked, circling Tru and sliding his sport coat down his arms as he shrugged it off.
Tara wanted to slap the flirtatious smile right off her face.
“Don’t worry about Sash, she’s harmless,” Tru whispered into her ear as the petite female glided down the hall like a panther on the hunt. Tara started, she must have been projecting her feelings. “You look like you are ready to rip out her throat,” he chuckled, kissing her temple with a broad smile. “I think I like jealous Tara.”
“It’s not funny,” Tara objected.
“Oh come on princess,” Tru lifted her chin to capture her eyes with his—amber flecks dancing in the warm brown. “You are the only female I want in my bed,” he whispered hotly, and Tara could feel the tendrils of his power wrapping around her, testing her shields.
“You better put that away or that kitty might try something and I’ll have to declaw her,” Tara threatened.
“She knows I’m not interested,” Tru insisted.
Something about his expression made Tara cringe.
“You’ve slept with her,” Tara accused, planting her palm against his chest.
“She has worked for Bharron since I was eighteen.” Tru cupped her face gently with both hands and forced her to hold his golden brown gaze. “After my transition, before I knew how to control myself, I did a lot of stupid things…she was one of them.” His coy smile melted her anger, but she couldn’t quite suppress the jealousy stirring within her.
“Did you have feelings for her?” Tara regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. She wasn’t usually the jealous type, but the way that female thought about Tru made her want to hit something—or someone.
“Not even for a second,” Tru said, without missing a beat. He kept his emotions bared so that she could feel his sincerity. Tara breathed a silent sigh of relief and something inside of her relaxed. “That answers my question though,” Tru tacked on with a shy grin.
“What question?” Tara pinned him down with her gaze.
“I didn’t know if you…well after your relationship with Dhaynger and Mel I just…” Tru struggled with his words.
“Spit it out.” Tara put her hands firmly on her hips. She had no idea where he was going with this.
“I thought maybe you preferred to…share?” Tru finally said with a shrug.
Tara could feel the awkward tension rolling off of him and butting up against her shields like an itch she needed to scratch—then his words sunk in. She had never considered sharing Tru with anyone else. Her relationship with her two best friends was different—she trusted them with each other as much as she trusted them with her. She couldn’t see herself sharing her heart, or her bed with anyone but those three. A sudden image of the four of them together flitted into her mind. Tara suppressed a sensual shiver as she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. She laughed to cover up her hesitation.
“I’m not passing out invites to our bed any time soon Tru.” Tara shoved his arm and started down the hall after Saysha. Tru seemed to relax behind her. The disappointment that slid in and out of her mind made her uneasy, so she tucked it away to consider later.
The sitting room Saysha led them to was spacious and elegant. It was dominated by a five piece seating area with modern suede furniture in deep brown, and a large glass and brushed copper coffee table laid out with an assortment of cheeses and fruits. Saysha sat down in one of the two love seats and crossed her long legs at the knee—her dress slipping higher up on her thigh as she did so. Tara caught the inviting look she threw Tru’s way and her focus zeroed in on the females thoughts. She was reliving one of their sexual encounters and was wondering how long it would take Tru to realized that she wasn’t wearing anything under her dress. Tara felt her hatred for the female simmering ever hotter as words pooled like venom behind her lips. Tara turned toward Tru as one word dominated her mind—mine. She claimed his mouth with her own before she realized what her intent was, and her fangs slid into the tender flesh of his full lower lip almost instantly. Tru moaned into her mouth as she began to gently suck, his rich blood sparking a frenzy of lust in her that she hadn’t planned. He almost stumbled when she pulled back from him, using her tongue to spread a few drops of his blood over lips. Saysha glared at Tara as the two of them took their seats on the larger three-seater, but before their silent battle could continue Bharron entered the room with a surprise guest.
.........
Tara didn’t have to fake her surprise, but she did have to manufacture some enthusiasm. Lucian smiled at them from his seat across the large mahogany dining table. So much for asking Bharron about his new head of security. Tara tried her best to keep up a conversation with Tru’s mahmen while simultaneously blocking out Saysha’s malice, and testing Lucian’s mental awareness. He didn’t seem to notice when she probed at his mind. When Bharron interrupted Lydia with a question Tara didn’t hear, she took advantage of the distraction to claim Lucian’s attention.
“So, what else do you do besides security, Lucian?” Tara asked, slipping into his mind like a warm knife through butter.
“I train other males,” he said. A memory of combat drills with newly-transitioned males took over his thoughts.
“Train them how?” Tara pretended ignorance.
“To protect themselves, and to protect others.” …and to lie, torture and kill, he finished in his mind.
Tara had to take a bite of her steak to cover her disgust at the images he was broadcasting. They practiced on humans.
“So kind of like what the Brother’s do?”
Lucian let out a short bitter laugh. “I am nothing like the Brothers.”
“Didn’t they train you?” Tara pushed.
“I owe them nothing,” he growled. His suspicion was beginning to rise along with his anger. Tara urged calm into his mind and switched tactics.
“I’d love to see you in action sometime,” she said, forcing a healthy dose of interest to back up her words. “You must be quite the fighter.”
“I could teach you a thing or two,” Lucian replied, lowering his voice to a sultry drawl.
Tru stiffened at her side and she felt as much as heard the room go silent. Perhaps she should have chosen her words little more carefully. She had been giving him what he wanted to hear, but Tara had forgotten about their audience. Tara slipped her hand into Tru’s beneath the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Tru has taught me all I need to know,” Tara said with a sly smile. “He’s going to be a Brother someday, I’m sure of it.”
Anger and bitterness saturated the room at her words. Tara was expecting the flood of emotion from Lucian, but she hadn’t anticipated the aggression from Bharron. Tara chanced a look into his mind.
They’ll never let him in, and when he’s rejected by this pretty little piece of ass he’ll finally join us. Bharron looked over Tara like fresh meat. Or maybe she’ll be our ticket to the inside.
Tara worked to maintain her composure as his words sunk in. Bharron didn’t just employ a member of the resistance—he was a part of it. Did Tru know? Tara looked at her male out of the corner of her eye as she took a sip of her wine. No, he couldn’t know. He would have said something…
“Did you know that I went through training with your sire Tehrrify?” Bharron asked, recapturing her attention.
“Was he your trainer?” Tara asked, confused by the direction he was taking. Bharron laughed.
“No child, he was in training with me.”
Tara calculated the years and figured that made sense. She didn’t know why her sire hadn’t told her that before coming here tonight.
“Were you partnered together also?” she asked.
“No, he was paired with Krym—his second in command if I’m not mistaken?” Bharron waited for her nod. Tara slipped back into his mind to see what direction he was taking with this. He seemed to be testing her knowledge. He was pleased that she was genuinely surprised by his past.
“I never asked Intrudehr, who is your partner?” Bharron focused on his son.
“Dhaynger, son of Krush,” Tru lied without skipping a beat. As far as anyone outside of the Brotherhood was concerned, Tara and Mel had stopped training after their transitions and were only courting the two males. Bharron seemed to bristle under his carefully controlled facade.
“I was paired with his sire,” Bharron said in a steely voice Tara had yet to hear from the male. “He was supposed to nominate me once he was accepted into the Brotherhood.”
“Then what happened?” Saysha asked eagerly, her eyes focusing on her employer for the first time since they sat down.
“He didn’t,” Bharron cut out, clenching his hands into tight fists. His mind was awash with hatred and anger—an ancient wound that had never healed, ripped open at the mention of his former partner.
“Maybe he did,” Tara said, without thinking. She felt obligated to stick up for Dhayn’s sire in his absence.
The look Bharron gave her sent a cold fear skittering down her throat. His malice was like a thick fog she could barely see through. She fought to keep her mind clear—not wanting to put up her shields, incase she’d miss something important.
“No, he didn’t,” Bharron said with a deadly calm. “If he had kept his word I would be a Brother right now,” …and he would still be alive, he finished silently.
A clear image—though dark and filtered through rage—formed briefly in Bharron’s unshielded mind. A thunderstorm in the darkest of night. His arms, along with a few others, pushing a tree until its breaking point. A car coming down the road. That same tree crashing down on the windshield. Guilt mixed with righteous indignation as he looked over his conquered enemy— a bloodstained face that looked so familiar…
Tara gasped, and quickly covered the noise with a series of coughs. She took another sip of her wine and motioned to Tru that she was alright. She had always heard that Dhayn resembled his sire, but she had never seen him before. Her stomach turned over in disgust and fierce anger for her friend and lover. They had believed his parents deaths were an accident all these years. The rage that took over her was harsh and vibrant, blocking out everything and everyone else in the room. Pain shot through her hand, catching her attention. Tru was squeezing her hand beneath the table so hard the she could feel her bones grinding together. She pulled it free from his grasp and looked at him in question. It was then that she felt his familiar presence against her mental shields—she hadn’t even realized that she reformed them. She opened herself up to him and his mental shouting made her cringe.
Stop projecting Tara! You are going to start a fight we can’t win! Tara! Tara! Tru pleaded. His own anger mixed in with a healthy dose of fear.
She looked around the room and was met by four sets of furious eyes. She instinctively sent out a wave of calm over the room, and watched as the rest of the dinner party relaxed in their seats. Lucian shook his head, as if to dislodge his confusion, but Bharron narrowed his eyes at her and the back of her neck pricked as he slid slowly into mistrust. Thinking fast she fed Bharron’s anger again, focusing on his hatred of the Brotherhood. She kept his anger at a manageable level, just enough to distract Bharron’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry sir,” Tara soothed. “I guess I really don’t know all that much about the Brotherhood.” A lie. “They showed me how to fight, but my sire never entrusted me with much else.” Another lie.
Bharron scrutinized her with a critical eye. She could hear his silent scoffing, but kept pleasant smile plastered to her face.
“Why would a female like you need to learn to fight?”
Tara bristled but remained calm.
“I didn’t want to end up like Krym’s daughter Phyrie,” Tara looked down at her lap with a sad frown, her mind reaching out for Lucian’s reaction. His thoughts not only confirmed his guilt, but had Tara clamping down tight on her emotions. These males were going to pay for what they’ve done.
“Alright, who wants some dessert,” Lydia interrupted with an overly cheerful voice. Tara caught her desperation and suddenly felt bad for the female. She was thinking that this dinner was going terribly and that she wasn’t going to get another chance with her son.
“I would love some Lydia,” Tara said with an encouraging smile. She sent a wave of peace into her mind and Lydia’s shoulder’s relaxed immediately.
A chiming noise sounded from another room, and Bharron rose from his seat. He excused himself and left the room. Lucian had already dismissed his brief trip down memory lane and was focused on Saysha’s neckline. Tru got up to help his mahmen bring in the dessert she had prepared, and Saysha had resigned to the possibility of a threesome with Tara. Tara rolled her eyes at the female’s gall—as if she would every let her anywhere near Tru again. Tara finished the last of her wine as she tried desperately to think of how she was going to get through dessert, and after that how she was going tell Tru that his sire was a traitor.
.........
Tru pulled into the underground parking lot of his loft, the silence in the cab of the truck as deafening as a thousand drums. Tara hadn’t spoken a word on the way home and with each passing minute his worry multiplied. Whatever she had heard when they were at his parents house was bad, really bad. He didn’t want to push her, both to give her some space, and to delay the inevitable. He guessed that a little part of him always suspected his sire was involved with the rebellion somehow, but how do you accuse your own blood of treason? His thoughts strayed to his mahmen—her carefully put together facade had slipped when he saw the bruises under her shirt sleeve. She had begged him not to intervene—not to accuse his father. He could never quite silence that small part of himself that wanted to believe his sire was a better man, so Tru gave his word to let it pass for the evening. Of course, he couldn’t let it go completely—not when his mahmen’s safety was at stake. Whether the evidence Tara gained incriminated Bharron or not, he was going to find out what was really going on in that house. Those conflicting emotions were part of what drove him away in the first place, but he shouldn’t have left her alone with him.
The elevator ride up was filled with a quiet building of tension, the chiming of the doors ringing loudly in contrast as they reached their floor. Tru unlocked the door to the loft and held the door open for Tara to walk through. After securing the lock behind him, he approached the brooding female staring out over the city and placed his hands on her shoulders—massaging firm circles into her tense muscles. Tru felt the now familiar heat simmer up to the surface and he let a little of it seep through his hands and bleed into her skin. The small release only fed the flame inside of him and soon his hunger for Tara was battling for dominance against his worries. He broke the contact to regain his thoughts.
“Don’t stop,” Tara implored, turning to face him with tear-filled eyes. His heart gave a painful throb in his chest. What was torturing her?
“I’m going to make your worries disappear princess, but first you need to tell me what they are,” he answered, caressing her cheek with his palm.
“Dhayn’s sire…” she whispered, her eyes downcast.
“Yeah, Bharron blames him for everything. That’s why I hated him so much when we started training,” Tru explained.
“No, he killed him,” Tara said softly, peering up into his eyes. “Bharron and his friends killed Dhayn’s parents and made it look like an accident.”
“What?” Tru staggered back like she had hit him. A sick feeling of dread settled in his gut—there was no redeeming this. If his sire had truly killed a Brother they would execute him, and surely any hopes Tru had of becoming a Brother himself were crushed beneath the weight of Bharron’s trespasses against them.
“He’s part of the resistance Tru, I think he might even be their leader,” Tara continued. “Sweet Virgin in the Fade, what are we going to do?” Her voice broke as the tears finally began to fall.
“We have to tell Thrett,” Tru said. His voice slipping out in a detached monotone as the world he had worked so hard to build began to slowly fall apart around him. “Do you think my mahmen is involved?”
“No, from what I could see, she has an idea of what he’s been up to, but she is terrified of him.” Tara placed a hand on his chin and turned his face to look into his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay Tru. I love you, and we are going to get through this—together.”
The determination he saw in her open gaze brought him back to himself. He didn’t need to be a Brother, or a Warrior, he didn’t need his inheritance, hell he didn’t even need his name—so long as he had this female in his life, nothing else mattered. Suddenly the thought of losing her, of not knowing she would be beside him through all of this—it was unbearable.
“Will you be my shellan, princess?” Tru asked, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of her.
Tara gasped in surprise, her eyes wide as saucers. “I…” she started, but he reached up to put a finger to her lips.
“I know this is horrible timing, and you deserve so much better than this—than me—but I need you, princess. You are the only thing that matters to me, and I know that you love me as much as I love you. Mate me, let me wear your name with pride for the rest my life.”
She was silent for a moment, and Tru could almost feel her inside of his head, searching out his mind—for what, he didn’t know. Those few seconds felt like hours as he waited for her answer, until finally she dropped down to the floor in front of him and kissed him. Her lips were gentle and left his far too quickly.
“Yes,” she said, finally.
“Even if they strip me of my title, my name, and my position?” Tru asked. He needed to be sure she knew what she was getting into.
“My sire would never let that happen,” Tara assured him.
“If he did?” he pressed.
“None of that has ever mattered to me, Tru.” Tara smiled and her eyes lit up from within.
Tru reached out and pulled her into his chest, threading his fingers into her carefully styled hair to bring her lips to his. He devoured her, delving into her mouth with his tongue and drinking in her moans of pleasure as she took everything he had to give.
Tara’s deft fingers had his hard shaft released from his pants before he even knew what was happening. He slipped his free hand under her little teal dress and tore away her panties in one swift move. She climbed onto his lap and slowly sank down on his cock, inch by glorious inch—never breaking contact with his lips as they continued to meld with hers. The fire that he kept tapped deep inside of himself burst forth in a blazing inferno. Tara cried out in release as his molten desire rippled over his skin and cascaded over and through her. He smelled the rich dark musk of his bonding scent enveloping them both as he began to thrust up into her pulsing sheath. She gripped him with every stroke and he fought with everything he had to hold on, to make it last. His fangs throbbed with his need to claim her and as he ran his tongue over her fully unsheathed fangs, his control snapped. He broke their kiss and urged her head to the side, exposing the soft milky flesh of her elegant neck. His fangs slid into her vein effortlessly as he thrust once more and let go—releasing his seed into her depths as he drew her rich lifeblood into his mouth. Tara screamed his name as another climax claimed her. He shuddered in bliss at the sting of her fangs as she claimed him in return. His cock surged to life before his first orgasm had fully subsided and he lost all control—growling into her neck as a second, more powerful release rushed through him in a electrifying wave.
Keeping her wrapped in his arms, Tru got up from the floor and took her to their bed. There may be a ceremony to mark him as her mate, but as far as Tru was concerned she already owned him; body, heart, and soul.
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