Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(102)

Rehv walked as quickly as he could to his mother’s bedroom.

“Mahmen?” he said as he opened her door. “Mahmen, wake up.”

His mother sat up in her bed of silken sheets, her white hair coiled in a cap for the day. “But it’s…it is the afternoon still. Why—”

“Lahni is coming to help you dress.”

“Dear Virgin, Rehvenge. Why?”

“You are leaving this house.”

“What—”

“Now, mahmen. I’ll explain later.” He kissed both her cheeks as her maid came in. “Ah, good. Lahni, you will dress your mistress fast.”

“Yes, master,” the doggen said with a bow.

“Rehvenge! What is—”

“Hurry. Leave with the doggen. I’ll call you.”

As his mother cried out his name, he went down to his private quarters and shut the doors so he wouldn’t hear her. He picked up the phone and dialed the Brotherhood’s number despising what he had to do. But Bella’s safety had to come first. After he left a message that made his throat sting, he went to his walk-in closet.

Right now the mansion was sealed up tight for the daylight hours, so there was no way a lesser could get in. The shutters covering the windows and doors were bullet-and fireproof and the house was made of stone walls that were two feet thick. To top it off, there were enough cameras and security alarms so he’d know if anyone so much as sneezed on his property. But he wanted his mahmen out anyway.

Plus, as soon as darkness fell, he was going to open up the iron gates and roll out the welcome mat. He wanted that lesser inside.

Rehv stripped out of his mink robe and put on a pair of black pants and a thick turtleneck sweater. He wouldn’t get out the weapons until his mother was gone. If she wasn’t totally hysterical already, seeing him covered with metal was going to throw her right over the edge.

Before he went back to check on the progress of the evac, he glanced at the locked cabinet in his closet. It was getting time for his afternoon dopamine dose. How perfect.

Smiling, he left his room without injecting himself, ready to bring all his senses out to play.





As the shutters lifted for the night, Zsadist lay on his side next to Bella, watching her sleep. She was on her back, tight in the crook of his arm, her head at his chest level. No sheets or blankets covered her naked body, because she was still radiating heat from the remnants of the needing.

When he’d returned after his trip to the kitchen, she’d eaten from his hand and then snoozed as he’d made up the bed with fresh linens. They’d lain together in the pitch-dark ever since.

He moved his hand from her upper thigh to the underside of her breast and brushed at her nipple with his forefinger. He’d been like this for hours, petting her, humming to her. Though he was so tired his lids were at half-mast, the calm between them was better than any rest he could have gotten if he’d shut his eyes.

As she stirred against him her hip brushed his, and he was surprised as the urge to take her rose. By now he figured he’d be done with that for a while.

He leaned back and looked down his body. Through the slit in the front of his boxers, the head of that thing he’d used on her had escaped, and as the shaft lengthened, the blunt tip pushed out farther and farther.

Feeling as if he were breaking some kind of law, he took the finger that had been running circles around Bella’s nipple and poked at the erection. It was stiff, so it moved right back into place.

He closed his eyes and, with a wince, captured the arousal in his palm. When he stroked it he was surprised at how the soft skin slid over the hard core. And the sensations were weird. Not unpleasant, really. Actually, they kind of reminded him of being inside of Bella, only not that good. Not by a long shot.

God, he was such a sissy. Afraid of his own…dick. Cock? Penis? What the hell should he call it? What did normal males call themselves? Okay, George wasn’t an option. But somehow referring to it as…it, just didn’t seem right anymore.

Now that they’d shaken hands, so to speak.

He let go of the thing and slid his palm under the waistband of the boxers. He was queased out and nervous, but figured he had to finish the Lewis-and-Clark routine. He didn’t know when he’d have the heart to do this again.

He shuffled the…dick, yeah, he’d start with just calling it dick…around so it was inside, but out of the way, and then touched the balls underneath. He felt a shock ride up the erection’s shaft, and the tip tingled.

That felt kind of nice.

He frowned as he explored for the first time what the good Virgin had given him. Funny that all of it had been attached to him, hanging off of him, for so long and yet he’d never done what young, post-transition males no doubt spent whole days doing.

As he brushed over the balls again, they got tighter and the dick got even harder. Sensations boiled in his lower body, and images of Bella popped into his mind, images of the two of them having sex, of him stretching her legs up and going deep into her. He recalled with bone-aching clarity what she felt like beneath him, what that channel of hers did to him, how tight she was….

The whole thing started to snowball, the pictures in his mind, the rolling currents of energy spreading out from where his hand was. His breath grew short. His mouth parted. His body did some kind of surge thing, his hips jerking forward. On impulse, he rolled over on to his back and shoved the boxers down.