Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(94)

Yay. Let’s beat feet for the altar.

As he pictured himself at home, he had a passing thought about V’s warning to get away from the compound. Trouble was, being out at a bar or on the streets alone was not a good plan, not with the mood he was in. He was as raw as the weather.

A few minutes later, voices drifted down the corridor, and John came around the corner with an older woman. The poor kid looked like he’d been pulled through a ringer. His hair was standing up like weeds, as if he’d been shoving his hands into it, and his eyes were glued to the floor. That notebook was clutched to his chest as though the thing were a bulletproof vest.

“So we’ll see about the next appointment, John,” the female said softly. “After you’ve thought about it.”

John didn’t respond, and Butch forgot about all his own whiny crap. Whatever had come out in that office was still out, and the boy needed a buddy. He put his arm around the kid tentatively, and when John leaned into him, all of Butch’s protective instincts reared up and snarled. He didn’t care that the therapist looked like Mary Poppins; he wanted to yell at her for upsetting the little guy.

“John?” she said. “You’ll get back in touch with me about the next—”

“Yeah, we’ll call you,” Butch muttered. Uh-huh, right.

“I told him there was no rush. But I do think he should come again.”

Butch glanced over at the woman, thoroughly annoyed…. only to have her eyes scare the shit out of him. They were so damned serious, so very grave. What the hell had gone down in that session?

Butch looked at the top of John’s head. “Let’s go, J-man.”

John didn’t move, so Butch gave him a little push, and led the way out of the clinic, his arm still on the kid’s thin shoulders. When they got to the car John climbed into the seat, but didn’t put his belt on. He just stared straight ahead.

Butch shut his door and locked the SUV up tight. Then he turned and stared at John.

“I’m not even going to ask what’s doing. The only thing I need to know is where you want to go. You feel like heading home, I’ll take you to Tohr and Wellsie’s. You want to hang at the Pit with me, we’ll go over to the compound. You just want to drive, I’ll take you to Canada and back. I’m up for anything, so you just say the word. And if you don’t want to decide now, I’ll tool around town until you figure it out.”

John’s little chest expanded and then contracted. He flipped open the notebook and took out his pen. There was a pause, and then he wrote something and flipped the paper around to Butch.

1189 Seventh Street.

Butch frowned. That was a really shitty part of town.

He opened his mouth to ask why there of all places, but then shut his yap. The kid had clearly had enough questions thrown at him tonight. Besides, Butch was armed, and it was where John wanted to go. A promise was a promise.

“Okay, buddy. Seventh Street coming up.”

But drive around for a while first, the kid wrote.

“No problem. We’ll just chill.”

Butch started the engine. Just as he put the Escalade into reverse, he saw a flash of something behind them. A car was pulling up to the back of the mansion, a very large, very expensive Bentley. He hit the brakes so it could pass and—

Forgot how to breathe.

Marissa came out of the house from a side door. Her hip-length blond hair blew in the wind, and she huddled into the black cape she was wearing. Moving quickly across the back parking lot, she dodged chunks of snow, leaping from asphalt spot to asphalt spot.

The security lights picked up the refined lines of her face and her gorgeous pale hair and her perfectly white skin. He remembered what it had felt like to kiss her, that one time he had, and his chest stung like his lungs were being crushed. Overcome, he wanted to rush out of the car, throw himself down in the slush, and beg like the dog he was.

Except she was heading for the Bentley. He watched as the door opened for her, as if the driver had leaned across and popped the handle. When the lights came on in the interior Butch couldn’t see much, only enough to tell him that it was a man, or male, who was behind the wheel. Shoulders that big didn’t come on female bodies.

Marissa gathered her cape with her hands and slid inside, shutting the door.

The light went off.

Dimly Butch heard some kind of shuffling next to him, and he glanced at John. The kid had shrunk back against the far window and was looking across the seats with fear in his eyes. That was when Butch realized he had palmed his gun and was growling.

Totally creeped out by the insane reaction, he took his foot off the Escalade’s brake and stomped on the gas pedal.

“Don’t worry, son. Nothing doing.”

As he spun them around he looked in the rearview mirror at the Bentley. It was moving now, doing its own turn in the parking lot. With a grim curse Butch tore off down the driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles stung.





Rehvenge frowned as Marissa got into his Bentley. God, he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. And she smelled just as good…the clean scent of the ocean filling his nose.

“Why won’t you let me come to the front door?” he said, taking in her fair hair and her flawless skin. “You should have let me pick you up properly.”

“You know how Havers is.” The door shut with a solid sound. “He’ll want us mated.”