Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(101)

The wind blew in from the north, a cold, wet rush that made Butch feel the aches from the fight.

After a moment, the locks in the car were released with a punching sound.



John couldn’t stop staring at Blaylock. Especially in the shower. The guy’s body was huge now, muscles sprouting from all different places, fanning out from his spine, filling his legs and shoulders, jacking up his arms. Plus he was easily six inches taller. Christ, he had to be six-foot-four now.

But the thing was, he didn’t look happy. He moved awkwardly, facing the tiled wall for most of the time he washed. And going by his flinching, the soap he used seemed to irritate him, or maybe his skin itself was the problem. Plus he kept trying to get under the spray, only to step back and adjust the temperature.

“You going to fall in love with him now, too? Brothers might get jealous.”

John glared over at Lash. The guy was smiling as he washed his little chest, a thick diamond chain catching the suds.

“Yo, Blay, you better not drop that soap. John-boy over here’s eyeing your meat like you read about.”

Blaylock ignored the comment.

“Yo, Blay. You heard me? Or you daydreaming about John-boy on his knees?”

John stepped in front of Lash, blocking his view of the other guy.

“Oh, please, like you’re going to protect him?” Lash eyed Blaylock. “Blay doesn’t need protecting by anyone, does he. He’s a biiiiiiiiig man now, aren’t you, Blay? Tell me, if John here wants to get you off, you going to let him? Bet you will. Bet you can’t wait for it. The two of you are going to make such a—”

John lunged forward, took Lash down to the wet tile, and…beat him senseless.

It was like he was on autopilot. He just hit the guy in the face over and over again, his fists riding a wave of anger until the shower floor ran bright red all the way to the drain. And no matter how many hands grabbed at John’s shoulders, he ignored them and kept pounding.

Until suddenly he was airlifted off of Lash.

He fought whoever it was that held him, fought and scratched even as he was dimly aware that the rest of the class had shrunk back in fear.

And John kept fighting and screaming without making a sound as he was hauled out of the shower. Out of the locker room. Down the hall. He clawed and punched until he was thrown onto the blue mats of the gym floor and the breath got knocked from him.

For a moment, all he could do was stare up at the caged ceiling lights, but when he realized he was being held down, the fight rushed back. Baring his teeth, he bit the thick wrist that was closest to his mouth.

Abruptly, he was flipped over onto his stomach and a huge weight gouged into his back.

“Wrath! No!”

The name registered only nominally. The queen’s voice even less so. John was beyond angry, burning uncontrollably, flailing around.

“You’re hurting him!”

“Stay out of this, Beth!” The king’s hard voice shot into John’s ear. “You finished yet, son? Or you want to go another round with those teeth of yours?”

John struggled even though he couldn’t move and his strength was flagging.

“Wrath, please let him up—”

“This is between him and me, leelan. I want you to go to the locker room and deal with the other half of this mess. That kid on the tile is going to have to be taken to Havers.”

There was a curse and then the sound of a door shutting.

Wrath’s voice came back right next to the side of John’s head. “You think popping one of those guys is going to make you a man?”

John heaved against the load on his back, not caring that it was the king. All that mattered, all that he felt, was the fury that ran through his veins.

“You think making that idiot with the fly mouth bleed is going to get you into the Brotherhood? Do you?”

John struggled harder. At least until a heavy hand landed on the back of his neck and his face had a communion with the floor mats.

“I don’t need thugs. I need soldiers. You want to know the difference? Soldiers think.” More pressure on his neck until John couldn’t even blink for the bug eyes he was sporting. “Soldiers think.”

All at once the weight was gone, and John took a heaving, sucking breath, the air dragging over his front teeth and hammering down his throat.

More breathing. More breathing.

“Get up.”

Fuck you, John thought. But he pushed at the mat. Unfortunately, his stupid, weak-ass body felt like it was chained to the floor. He literally couldn’t lift himself.

“Get up.”

Fuck you.

“What did you say to me?” John got yanked off the ground by the armpits and came face-to-face with the king. Who was savagely pissed off.

Fear struck John hard, the reality of how badly he’d lost it dawning on him.

Wrath bared fangs that seemed as long as John’s legs. “You think I can’t hear you just because you can’t talk?”

John’s feet dangled for a moment and then he was dropped. When his knees failed him, he crumpled to the mats.

Wrath stared down with contempt. “It’s a good goddamned thing Tohr isn’t around right now.”

Not fair, John wanted to yell. Not fair.

“You think Tohr would have been impressed by this?”

John thrust himself off the floor and wobbled to a stand, glaring up at Wrath.