Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(14)

The urge to call the Brotherhood lingered as much as the images of the nightmare did. Except how stupid would she feel when the warriors called back all annoyed, just to tell her he was perfectly fine? They’d probably think she was stalking him. Except, God…that vision of him bleeding into the white-covered earth, that picture of him, helpless in the fetal position, haunted her.

It was only a dream, though. Merely…a dream.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself into a semblance of calm and dematerialized downtown to the terrace of a penthouse apartment some thirty stories up. As soon as she took form, Rehvenge slid open one of six glass doors.

He immediately frowned. “You’re upset.”

She forced a smile as she went over to him. “You know I’m always a little uncomfortable.”

He pointed his gold engraved cane at her. “No, this is different.”

God, she’d never known anyone so in tune with her emotions. “I’ll be fine.”

As he took her elbow and pulled her inside, a tropical warmth embraced her. Rehv always had the temperature this high, and his floor length sable coat always stayed on until they got to the couch. She had no idea how he could stand the heat, but he seemed to crave it.

He shut the slider. “Marissa, I want to know what’s doing.”

“Nothing, really.”

With a twist, she took off her cloak and draped it on a chrome-and-black chair. Three sides of the penthouse were made up of sheets of glass, and the sprawling view of Caldwell’s two halves included the shimmering lights of downtown, the dark curve of the Hudson River, the stars over it all. Unlike the twinkling landscape, though, the decor was minimalist, all ebony and cream elegance…rather like Rehv, with his black mohawk and his golden skin and his perfect clothes.

Under different circumstances, she would have adored the penthouse.

Under different circumstances, she might have adored him.

Rehv’s violet eyes narrowed as he leaned on his cane and came to her. He was a huge male, built like a Brother, and he had looming down pat, his handsome face hard. “Don’t lie to me.”

She smiled slightly. Males like him tended to be very protective, and though the two of them were not mated, she wasn’t surprised he seemed ready to hunt something down on her behalf. “I had a disturbing dream this morning and haven’t shaken it off yet. That’s all.”

As he measured her, she had the oddest sense he was sifting through her emotions, examining how they interconnected from the inside.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

She reached out with no hesitation. He always observed the glymera’s formalities, and he hadn’t yet greeted her as custom required. Except when their palms met, he didn’t brush his lips across her knuckles. He put his thumb over her wrist and pushed down a little. Then even harder. Suddenly, as if he’d opened up some kind of drain, her feelings of fear and worry tunneled down her arm and out to him, pulled through by the contact.

“Rehvenge?” she whispered weakly.

The instant he let her go, the emotions came back, a wellspring no longer tapped.

“You won’t be able to be with me tonight.”

She flushed and rubbed the skin where he’d touched her. “Of course I will. It’s…time.”

To get them started, she went to the black leather couch they usually used and stood beside it. After a moment, Rehvenge came over to her and took off his sable coat, slinging the fur out flat for them to lie on. Then he unbuttoned his black suit coat and removed it as well. His fine silk shirt, which seemed so very white, parted down the middle at his fingertips and then the heavy, hairless expense of his chest was revealed. Tattoos marked his pecs, two five-pointed stars in red ink, and there were more designs on his ribbed stomach.

As he sat down and eased back into the couch’s arms, his muscles flexed. Looking up at her, his glowing amethyst stare drew her in, and so did his hand as he extended his arm and crooked his forefinger at her. “Come here, tahlly. I’ve got what you need.”

She lifted the skirt of her gown and climbed between his legs. Rehv always insisted she take from his throat, but in the three times they had done this, he had never once been aroused. Which was a relief as well as a reminder. Wrath had never had an erection when he was near her either.

As she glanced down at Rehv’s smooth-skinned male glory, the low-level hunger she had been feeling for the past few days hit hard. She put her palms on his pecs and arched over him, watching as he closed his eyes, tilted his chin to the side, and ran his hands up her arms. A soft groan left his lips, which was something he always did right before she struck. In another situation, she would have said it was anticipation, but she knew that wasn’t true. His body was always flaccid, and she couldn’t believe he liked being used that much.

She opened her mouth, her fangs elongating, extending downward from her upper jaw. Leaning into Rehv, she—

The image of Butch in the snow froze her, and she had to shake her head to refocus on Rehv’s throat and her hunger.

Feed, she told herself. Take what he offers.

She tried again, only to stop with her mouth on his neck. As she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, Rehv put his hand under her chin and lifted her head up.

“Who is he, tahlly?” Rehv’s thumb stroked her bottom lip. “Who is this male you love who won’t feed you? And I’m going to be totally insulted if you don’t tell me.”