Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(93)

But the drive was back now.

“Would you like me to put you out, Bella?”

Maybe it would be better if he drugged her. This was going to be a long night, and from what she understood, it would only get harder and more intense as the hours churned. Was it really fair of her to ask that he stay?

Something soft stroked her cheek. His thumb, brushing over her skin.

“I won’t leave you,” he said. “No matter how long, no matter how many times. I’ll serve you and let you take my vein until it’s over. I will not abandon you.”

Staring up into his face, she knew without asking that this would be their only time together. The resolve was in his eyes. She could see it clearly.

One night and no other.

Abruptly he lifted his body from hers and reached for the bedside table. His tremendous erection stood out straight from his hips, and just as he came back with a syringe, she grasped his hard flesh.

He hissed and swayed before catching himself by throwing a hand down to the mattress.

“You,” she whispered. “Not the drug. I want you.”

He dropped the needle on the floor and kissed her, spreading her thighs with his knees. She guided him into her body and felt a glorious rush as he filled her. With a mighty swell her pleasure rose and then broke into two separate needs, one for his sex, one for his blood. Her fangs elongated as she eyed the thick vein at the side of his neck.

As if he sensed what she needed, he twisted his body around so he could stay inside of her while giving her access to his throat.

“Feed,” he said hoarsely, his body moving into her and pulling back. “Take what you need.”

She bit him without hesitation, piercing right through the slave band, going deep into his skin. As his taste hit her tongue, she heard a roar leave him. And then the strength and the power of him washed over her, through her.





O fell still over his captive, unsure he’d heard right.

The vampire he’d caught downtown and brought to the shed behind the cabin was strapped to the table, a butterfly mounted. He’d captured the male only with plans to work out his frustration. He’d never imagined he’d learn anything useful.

“What was that?” O put his ear down closer to the civilian’s mouth.

“She is called…Bella. The one…the female who was taken…her name…Bella.”

O straightened, a heady, balmy bloom flowing across his skin. “Do you know if she’s alive?”

“I thought she was dead.” The civilian coughed weakly. “She’s been gone so long.”

“Where does her family live?” When there was no immediate answer, O did something guaranteed to open the male’s mouth. After the scream faded, O said, “Where is her family?”

“I don’t know. I…don’t honestly know. Her family…I don’t know…. I don’t know….”

Babble, babble, babble. The civilian slid into the diarrhea-of-the-mouth stage of interrogation, becoming all but useless.

O slapped the thing into silence. “Address. I want an address.”

When there was no reply, he provided another source of encouragement. The male gasped under the fresh onslaught, and then blurted, “Twenty-seven Formann Lane.”

O’s heart started pumping, but he leaned over the vampire casually. “I’m going to go there right now. If you’ve told the truth I’ll set you free. If you haven’t I’ll kill you slowly as soon as I get back. Now, do you want to change anything?”

The civilian’s eyes darted away. Came back.

“Hello?” O said. “You hear me?”

To hurry the civilian up, he applied pressure to a sensitive area. The thing yelped like a dog.

“Tell me,” O said softly. “And I’ll let you go. This will all stop.”

The male’s face squeezed into itself, his mouth peeling up and revealing gritted teeth. A tear snaked down his bruised cheek. Though there was the temptation to add another shot of agony as inducement, O decided not to upset the battle between conscience and self-preservation.

“Twenty-seven Thorne.”

“Avenue, right?”

“Yes.”

O wiped off the tear. Then slit the civilian’s throat wide-open.

“You are such a liar,” he said as the vampire bled out.

O didn’t hang around, just grabbed his jacket full of weapons and left. He was damn sure the addresses were nothing. That was the problem with persuasion. You really couldn’t trust the information you got.

He’d check out whatever was there on both streets, but he was clearly being jerked around.

Waste of f*cking time.





Chapter Thirty-two


Butch swirled the last inch of coffee around the bottom of the mug, thinking that the stuff was the color of Scotch. As he tossed the cold swill back, he wished it were some high-test Lagavulin.

He checked his watch. Six minutes till seven. God, he hoped the session was only an hour. If everything went smooth, he could drop John at Tohr and Wellsie’s and be sitting on his couch with a shot glass at his elbow before CSI came on.

He winced. No wonder Marissa wouldn’t see him. What a frickin’ catch. High-functioning alcoholic living in a world that wasn’t his own.