I am in love. "It's all right."
She stopped and stepped in front of him. "I want you to love someone for real. Not like you think you love me."
He frowned. "No offense. But you can't know what I—"
"Phury, you don't really love—"
He stood up and met her in the eye. "Please pay me the respect of not assuming to know my emotions better than I do."
"You've never been with a female."
"I was last night."
That shut her up for a moment. Then she said, "Not at the club. Please, not at—"
"In a bathroom in the back. It was good, too. Then again, she was a professional." Okay, now he was being an asshole.
"Phury… no."
"May I have my brush back? I think my hair's good now."
"Phury—"
"The brush. Please."
After a moment that was long as a century, she extended the thing toward him. When he reached out and took it, they were linked by the wooden handle for a mere breath, then she dropped her hand.
"You deserve better than that," she whispered. "You're better than that."
"No, I'm not." Oh, man, he had to get away from her heartbroken expression. "Don't let your pity turn me into a prince, Bella."
"This is self-destructive. All of it."
"Hardly." He went over to the bureau, picked up his blunt, and took a drag on it. "I want this."
"Do you? Is that why you've been lighting up red smokes all afternoon? The whole mansion smells of it."
"I smoke because I'm an addict. I'm a loose-willed drug addict, Bella, who was with a whore last night in a public place. You should condemn me, not pity me."
She shook her head. "Don't try to make yourself look ugly in front of me. It won't work. You are a male of worth—"
"For fuck's sake—"
"—who has sacrificed much for his brothers. Probably too much."
"Bella, stop it."
"A male who gave up his leg to save his twin. Who has fought bravely for his race. Who is giving up his future for his brother's happiness. You can't get much more noble than that." Her eyes were rock-solid as she stared up at him. "Don't tell me who you are. I see you more clearly than you see yourself."
He paced around the room until he found himself back in front of the dresser. He hoped there were no mirrors on the Other Side. He hated his reflection. Always had.
"Phury—"
"Go," he said hoarsely. "Please just go." When she didn't, he turned around. "For God's sake, don't make me break down in front of you. I need my pride right now. It's the only thing keeping me standing."
She put a hand over her mouth and blinked quickly. Then she shored herself up and spoke in the Old Language. "Be of good fortune, Phury, son of Ahgony. May your feet follow a level path and the nightfall gently upon your shoulders."
He bowed. "As for you, Bella, beloved nalla of mine blooded brother, Zsadist."
When the door shut behind her, Phury sank down on the bed and brought the blunt to his lips. As he looked around the room he'd stayed in since the Brotherhood had moved into the compound, he realized it wasn't home to him. It was just a guest room… a luxurious, anonymous guest room… four walls of nice oil paintings with good carpeting and drapes lush as a female's ball gown.#p#分页标题#e#
It would be nice to have a home.
He'd never had one. After Zsadist had been abducted as an infant, their mahmen had closed herself in underground, and their father had gone on the hunt for the nursemaid who'd taken Z. Growing up, Phury had lived among the moving, breathing shadows of the household. Everyone, even the doggen, had just gone through the motions of life. There had been no laughter. No happiness. No calendar of ceremonies.
No hugs.
Phury had learned to keep quiet and stay out of the way. It was, after all, the kindest thing he could do. He'd been the replica of what had been lost, the reminder of the heartbreak that was on everyone's mind. He took to wearing hats to hide his face, and he'd walked with a shuffle, curling into himself so as to be smaller, less noticeable.
As soon as he'd gone through his transition, he'd left to find his twin. No one had waved him off. There had been no good-byes. Z's disappearance had used up all of the household's capacity for missing someone, so there was none left over for Phury.
Which had been good, actually. It made everything easier.
About ten years later he'd learned from a distant cousin that his mother had died in her sleep. He'd gone back home immediately, but they'd had the funeral without him. His father had died fighting about eight years later. Phury had made it to that funeral and had spent his last night in the family house. Afterward the property had been sold, the doggen had dispersed, and it was as if his parents had never been.