Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(9)

Anger crawled around his chest on all fours until he was panting from the ugly, familiar feeling. Except…Christ, the whole thing didn’t make sense: him searching for her and obsessing over her shit and walking around her house. They hadn’t been friends. Hell, they hadn’t even been acquaintances. And he hadn’t been nice to her on the two occasions he’d met her.

Man, he regretted that. During those few moments he’d had with her, he wished he hadn’t been so…Well, not throwing up after he’d found out she was aroused by him would have been a good fricking start. Except there’d been no way to suck back the response. No female other than that sick bitch mistress of his had ever been wet for him, so he sure as hell didn’t associate slick female flesh with anything good.

As he remembered Bella being up against his body, he still wondered why she’d wanted to lay with him. His face was a goddamned mess. His body wasn’t much better, at least not on the back. And his reputation made Jack the Ripper look like a Boy Scout. Damn it, he was angry at everyone and everything all the time. She’d been beautiful and soft and kind, a regal, aristocratic female from a privileged background.

Oh, but their contradictions had been the point, hadn’t they? He’d been the change-of-pace male for her. The walk on the wild side. The savage creature who would shock her out of her nice little life for an hour or two. And even though it had hurt to be reduced to precisely what he was, he’d still thought she was…lovely.

From behind him, he heard a grandfather clock start to chime. Five o’clock.

The front door to the house opened with a creak.

In a soundless rush, Z unsheathed a black dagger from his chest and flattened himself against the wall. He angled his head so he had a view down the hall to the foyer.

Butch held up his hands as he walked inside. “Just me, Z.”

Zsadist lowered the blade, then put it back in its holster.

The former homicide detective was an anomaly in their world, the only human who’d ever been let into the Brotherhood’s inner circle. Butch was V’s roommate, Rhage’s lifting partner in the gym, Phury’s clothes-whore buddy. And for reasons of his own, he was obsessed with Bella’s abduction, so he had some shit in common with Z, too.

“What up, cop?”

“You heading back to the compound?” The guy’s question might have been framed as an inquiry, but it was more like a suggestion.

“Not right now.”

“Close to daylight.”

Whatever. “Phury send you for me?”

“My choice. When you didn’t come back from what you paid for, I figured you might end up here.”

Z crossed his arms over his chest. “You worried I killed that female I took into the alley?”

“Nope. Saw her working the club before I left.”

“So why am I looking at you right now?”

As the male glanced down like he was putting words together in his head, his weight moved back and forth in those expensive loafers he liked. Then he unbuttoned his fancy black cashmere coat.

Ah…so Butch was a messenger. “Spit it out, cop.”

The human rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow. “You know Tohr’s been talking to Bella’s family, right? And that her brother’s a real hothead? Well, he knows someone’s coming in here. He can tell because of the security system. Every time it’s shut off or turned on, he gets a signal. He wants the visits to stop, Z.”

Zsadist bared his fangs. “Tough.”

“He’s going to put up guards.”

“Why the hell does he care?”

“Come on, man, it’s his sister’s place.”

Son of a bitch. “I want to buy the house.”

“That’s a no-go, Z. Tohr said the family’s not putting it on the market anytime soon. They want to keep it.”

Z ground his molars for a moment. “Cop, do yourself a favor and get out of here.”

“Rather drive you home. Damn close to daybreak.”

“Yeah, I really need a human telling me that.”

Butch cursed on an exhale. “Fine, go crispy if you want. Just don’t come back here again. Her family’s been through enough.”

As soon as the front door shut, Z felt a flush come over his body, like someone had wrapped him up tight in an electric blanket and cranked the dial. Sweat broke out on his face and his chest, and his stomach rolled. He lifted his hands. The palms were wet and the fingers sported a fine tremble.

Physiological signs of stress, he thought.

He was clearly having an emotional reaction, although damned if he knew what it was. All he picked up on were the ancillary symptoms. Inside of himself there was nothing, no feeling that he could identify.

He looked around and wanted to set fire to the farmhouse, just burn the thing down to the ground so no one could have it. Better that than knowing he couldn’t go in anymore.

Trouble was, torching her place was like hurting her.

So if he couldn’t leave a pile of ashes behind, he wanted to take something. As he thought about what he could carry with him and still dematerialize, he put his hand up to the slender chain stretched tight around his throat.

The necklace with its tiny inset diamonds was hers. He’d found the thing in the rubble the night after she’d been abducted, on the terra-cotta floor under her kitchen table. He’d cleaned her blood off of it, fixed the broken clasp, and had worn it ever since.