He’s also the one that I felt like I had to write or I would never get over it.
I’m reflecting on this as I walk down toward the gym. I’m going slowly, my footfalls pacing the ball’s bounce, my mind back withLover Eternaland the scene where Bella did the same thing I’m doing now. Walking. Toward the gym. Following the sound of someone inside.
God, I can picture clear as day her seeing him for the first time while he worked a punching bag. It gives me chills even now.
The thing is, Z’s book was supposed to be the last in the series, the end of the original ten. Part of it was because I thought it would take nine books to get him ready to meet hisshellan, given where he was starting from. But also it was a case of me wanting to keep him to myself.
But as you might have heard, the Black Dagger Brotherhood came into being because I’d been fired from my first publisher due to insufficient sales. Sure, they were critically well-acclaimed, but this is a business and if you’re not making back your advances and then some, you’re going to get dropped. After two weeks of staring at a blank screen and having no idea what the hell I was going to do with myself—aside from be a lawyerfor the rest of my life and who needs that, no offense—Wrath stalked me and decided I’d do as his secretary.
The instant I saw Z for the first time, I knew he was unlike anything I’d ever had in my head before, and again, Ihadto write his story.
My contract was for three books.
Given my recent termination, and how out-there the series was, I thought, no one’s going to read these books so he’s got to be the third. After I finish him, and I’m shit-can’d again, I’ll go back to being a lawyer for the rest of my life and can close this chapter.
Thatfinisdid not happen. Thanks toyou.
When I consider why Bella pursued Zsadist, in spite of all the red flags lining every room he walked into and all the halls he ever went down, I realize I kind of felt the same way. The darkness in him had an inexorable pull to it, and I needed to see him healed. Well, partially healed.
On the road to healing.
It was so hard to see him bear the consequences of a sadistic bitch’s set of twisted, cruel decisions. So many images from that book linger in my mind, particularly those of him as a pretrans being led away by guards, and then him on his pallet sleeping next to the Mistress’s skull. I also see him curled up on the floor of his shower, the water falling on his emaciated body, his furious scrubbing of himself getting him nowhere.
He’d been convinced that he was going to contaminate Bella…
But then at the end.
I love you.
If you know, you know.
As I think about how far he’s come, I ponder personal evolutions and arrive at the gym’s pair of closed doors. There’s an open set farther down, but it feels right to keep a boundaryup. Even now, after all these years, Z is still remarkably self-contained and private. Any gathering, he’s on the periphery. For meals, he watches more than he speaks. And he still doesn’t like physical touch, especially if he doesn’t know it’s coming.
Oh, and yes, his eyes continue to turn black when his aggression is triggered.
Yet so much is different.
Staring through the chicken wire’d glass square, I watch the male dance under the basket, shooting shots from the three-point line, going for layups, backing away, rushing forward. His control of the ball is so total, it’s more like a yo-yo on a string than something you could lose control of at any second. It’s impossible not to notice how his body has filled out with muscle. The power in him is impressive, the way he moves so smooth, his balance impeccable.
Also, I notice how relaxed he is. There’s no tension in him, no hard corners, no glower or frown. He’s doing this for exercise. Because he’s good at it. Because maybe he likes the game of sinking baskets.
It’s not because he’s working out his aggression.
He lets the ball fly again and then spins around.
As our eyes meet, the basket is made behind him, and my heart skips beats. I have to consciously hold my ground against an urge to duck out of sight.
Between one blink and the next, I see him through all the stages of his life. The infant born, the young abducted, the blood slave tortured, the escapee with his rescuer…the haunted hunter.
The bonded male.
The proud father.
InThe Beloved, his daughter, Nalla, falls in love with Nate, a fighter who’s reeling from his own issues. One of the things I found fascinating about that book was the deeper layersbetween the generations. Nalla struggled with her parents. Z is a legend in the species, and Bella has always watched over him, helping him make his way through the world. Their daughter felt buried under the legacy of their love story. Meanwhile, Nate had his own demons—and it isn’t until Nalla experiences loving a survivor that she understands how hermahmenhas felt. The insight heals her own issues with her parents, and also helps her connect to Nate.
As for Z? Well, I thought he was going to kill the guy. But Nate proved he was a male of worth so respect was given and received on both sides. I know Z totally approves of them now—
He starts to walk over to me, and that’s when I do step back.
