Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(53)

Her hand landed on his thigh. “As a matter of fact, I do. But she can’t give it to me.”

As the waitress left, Butch leaned back in the booth, stretching both arms out, opening himself. The female took the invite, leaning into him, moving that hand south. His body stirred, its first sign of life in months, and he had some passing thought that maybe he could get Marissa out of his head if he had some sex.

While the female stroked him through his pants, he watched her with clinical interest. He knew where this was headed. He’d end up doing her in one of the private bathrooms over there. Would take maybe ten minutes, if that. He’d get her off, do his business, then beat feet to get away from her.

God, he’d pulled that quickie routine hundreds of times over the course of his life. And it was really just masturbation disguised as sex. No big deal.

He thought of Marissa…and felt his tear ducts sting.

The female next to him moved so that her breasts were on his arm. “Let’s go to the back, daddy.”

He put his hand over hers at his crotch and she made some kind of purring noise in his ear. At least until he removed her palm.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

The female pulled away and looked at him as if he had to be playing her. Butch stared right back.

He wasn’t prepared to say he was never going to have sex again. And he sure as shit didn’t understand why Marissa had gotten to him as much as she had. All he knew was that his old pattern of balling random women wasn’t doing it for him. Tonight.

Abruptly Phury’s voice cut through the ambient noise of the club. “Hey, cop, you want to stay or go?”

Butch glanced up. There was a slight pause as he speculated about his friend.

The Brother’s yellow eyes narrowed. “What’s doing, cop?”

“I’m ready to go,” Butch said, smoothing over the awkward moment.

As he got up, Phury gave the blond a hard look. A real keep-your-yap-shut special.





Wow, Butch thought as they headed for the door. So Phury really was gay.





Chapter Twenty


Bella woke up hours later to a soft scraping sound. She glanced over to a window and watched as its steel shutter came down. Dawn must be close.

Anxiety tingled in her chest, and she looked at the door. She wanted Zsadist to come through it, wanted to clap her eyes on him and reassure herself he was in one piece. Even though he’d seemed back to normal when he’d left, she’d put him through a lot.

She rolled over onto her back and thought about Mary showing up. How had Zsadist known she’d needed a friend? And God, the fact that he’d gone to Mary and—

The bedroom door opened wide without any warning.

Bella sat up in a rush, pulling the covers to her throat. But then Zsadist’s shadow was a stunning relief.

“It’s just me,” he said gruffly. As he came inside, he was carrying a tray, and there was something on his shoulder. A duffel bag. “You mind if I hit the lights?”

“Hi…” I’m so glad you’re home safe. “Not at all.”

He called to life several candles, and she blinked in the sudden glow.

“I brought you some things from your house.” He put the tray of food on the bedside table and opened up the bag. “I got you clothes and a parka. The bottle of shampoo that was in your shower. A brush. Shoes. Socks to keep your feet warm. Your diary, too—don’t worry, I haven’t read it or anything.”

“I’d be surprised if you had. You’re more trustworthy than that.”

“No, I’m illiterate.”

Her eyes flared.

“Anyway”—his voice was hard as his jawline—“I figured you’d want some of your own stuff.”

As he put the duffel next to her on the bed, she just stared up at him until, overwhelmed, she reached out to take his hand. When he flinched back, she flushed and looked at what he’d brought her.

God…she was nervous about seeing her things. Especially the diary.

Except it turned out to be comforting to pull out her favorite red sweater, put the thing to her nose, and catch a whiff of the perfume she’d always worn. And…yes, the brush, her brush, the one she liked with the broad, square head and metal bristles. She grabbed her shampoo, popped the top, and inhaled. Ahhhh…Biolage. Nothing like the scent of what the lesser had made her use.

“Thank you.” Her voice trembled as she took out her journal. “Thank you so much.”

She stroked her diary’s leather cover. She would not open it. Not now. But soon…

She glanced up at Zsadist. “Will you…will you take me back to my house?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“I’m frightened to go there, but I probably should.”

“You just tell me when.”

Gathering her courage, suddenly interested in getting one of the big “firsts” out of the way, she said, “When light falls this evening. I want to go then.”

“Okay, we will.” He pointed at the tray. “Now eat.”

Ignoring the food, she watched him go into the closet and disarm. He was careful with his weapons, checking them thoroughly, and she wondered where he had been…what he had done. Though his hands were clean, there was black blood on his forearms.