Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(82)

She turned her face up to his. “Was that the first time you ever came?”

The silence wasn’t a surprise. That he eventually answered her was.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never…pleasured yourself?” she whispered, even though she knew the answer. God… What those years as a blood slave must have been like. All that abuse…She wanted to weep for him but knew he would feel awkward about it.

He exhaled. “I don’t like to touch it at all. Frankly, I hate the fact that it was inside of you. I want you to be in a tub right now, surrounded by bleach.”

“I loved being with you. I’m glad we laid together.” It was only what had come later that she’d had difficulty with. “But about what happened in the bathroom—”

“I don’t want you to be a part of that. I don’t want you doing that to me so I…do that all over you.”

“I liked giving you an orgasm. It’s just…I care for you too much to hurt you. Maybe we could try—”

He pulled away. “I’m sorry…I have to…I’m going to V’s. I’ve got some work to do.”

She grabbed his arm. “What if I told you I thought you were beautiful?”

“I’d say you were riding a pity wave and it would piss me off.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for you. I wish you’d finished inside of me, and I think you’re gorgeous when you’re aroused. You’re thick and long, and I was dying to touch you. I still am. And I want to take you in my mouth. How about that?”

He shrugged out of her hold and got to his feet. With quick, jabbing motions, he got dressed. “If you need to cast that sex in a different light so you can deal with it, that’s fine. But you’re lying to yourself right now. In no time at all you’re going to wake up to the fact that you’re still a female of worth. And then you’re going to regret the shit out of laying with me.”

“I will not.”

“Wait for it.”

He was out the door before she could find the proper words to throw back at him.

Bella crossed her arms over her chest and seethed with frustration. Then she kicked off the covers. Damn, but it was hot in this room. Or maybe she was so worked up, she’d screwed with her internal chemistry.

Unable to stay in bed, she dressed and went down the hall of statues. She didn’t care where she ended up; she just had to get out and walk off some of this heat.





Chapter Twenty-eight


Zsadist stopped in the underground tunnel, halfway between the main house and Vishous and Butch’s place.

When he looked behind himself there was nothing but a row of ceiling lights. In front of him there was more of the same, a strip of glowing patches that went on and on. The door he’d entered from and the door he would exit out of were both unseen to him.

Well, wasn’t this a perfect f*cking metaphor for life.

He settled against the steel wall of the tunnel, feeling trapped in spite of the fact that he was held by nothing and no one.

Oh, but that was bullshit. Bella was trapping him. Chaining him. Tying him up with her beautiful body and her kind heart and that misplaced chimera of love that glowed in her sapphire eyes. Trapped…He was so trapped.

With a sudden shift, his mind latched onto the night Phury finally got him away from the slavery.





When the Mistress had shown up with yet another male, the slave had been disinterested. After ten decades the eyes of other males no longer bothered him, and the rapes and the invasions had no new horrors to teach him. His existence was an even-keeled stretch of hell, the only real torture resting in the infinite nature of his captivity.

But then he’d sensed something odd. Something…different. He’d turned his head and looked at the stranger. His first thought was that the male was huge and dressed with expense, so he had to be a warrior. His next was that the yellow eyes staring at him held a shocking misery. Verily, the stranger standing in the doorway had paled until his skin was waxy.

When the smell of the salve assaulted the slave’s nose, he went back to looking at the ceiling, uninterested in what would happen next. Yet as his manhood was manipulated, a wave of emotion surged in the room. He looked back to the male who was standing just inside the cell. The slave frowned. The warrior was reaching for a dagger and looking at the Mistress as if he were going to kill—

The other door burst open and one of the courtmen spoke with panic. Suddenly the cell was filled with guards and weapons and anger. The Mistress was grabbed roughly by the male at the front of the group and slapped so hard she hit the stone wall. Then the male went for the slave, unsheathing a knife. The slave screamed as he saw the blade come at his face. A searing pain cut through his forehead and nose and cheek; then blackness claimed him.

When the slave came to consciousness, he was hanging by his neck, the weight of his arms and legs and torso choking the life right out of him. His mental reappearance was as if his body knew his last breath was coming and had awoken him on the off chance his brain could help. A sorry attempt at rescue, he thought.

Dear Virgin, shouldn’t he feel pain? And he wondered if he had been splashed with water, for his skin was wet. Then he realized something thick was dripping into his eyes. His blood. He was covered in his own blood.