Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(56)

Images of Marissa swirled in his head, half the fantasy he’d been so gloriously lost in, half memories of the feel of her. He fell into a rhythm with his hand, unsure whether he was the one who was doing the stroking…. Maybe it was her…. God, he wanted it to be her.

He closed his eyes and arched his back. Oh, yeah. So good.

Except then he woke up.

As he realized what he was doing, he became vicious. Angry with himself and so much of what was going on, he handled his sex roughly until he barked a curse and ejaculated. He couldn’t even call it an orgasm. More like his cock swore out loud.

With sickening dread, he braced himself and looked down at his hand.

Then just sagged from relief. At least something was back to normal.

After kicking out of his trousers and wiping up with the boxers, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Under the spray, all he could think about was Marissa. He missed her with a stinging hunger, a kind of craving pain that reminded him of when he’d quit smoking the year before.

And shit, no Nicoderm for this.

When he came out of the bath with a towel around his hips, his new cell phone was ringing. He fumbled around the pillows and finally found the thing.

“Yeah, V?” he rasped. Man, his voice was always shot to shit in the morning and today was no different. He sounded like a car engine that wouldn’t turn over.

Okay, so that was two normals in his favor.

“Marissa’s moved in.”

“What?” He sank down onto the mattress. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Havers kicked her out.”

“Because of me?”

“Yup.”

“That bastard—”

“She’s here in the compound, so you don’t worry about her safety. But she’s rattled as hell.” There was a long silence. “Cop? You there, my man?”

“Yeah.” Butch fell back on the bed. Realized his thigh muscles were twitching with the need to get to her.

“So like I said, she’s okay. You want me to bring her to you tonight?”

Butch put his hand up to his eyes. The idea that someone had hurt her in any way made him positively mental. To the point of violence.

“Butch? Hello?”



As Marissa settled into a canopied bed, she pulled the covers up to her neck and wished she weren’t naked. Trouble was, she had no clothes.

God, even though no one would bother her here, being bare just…felt wrong. Scandalous, though no one would ever know.

She glanced around. The room she’d been given was lovely, done in a delphinium blue toile, with the pastoral scene of a lady and a kneeling suitor repeated on the walls, the drapes, the bedcovers, the chair.

Not exactly what she wanted to look at. The two French lovers crowded her, striking her as not visual but audible, a chaotic staccato of what she didn’t have with Butch. Wouldn’t ever have with Butch.

To solve the problem, she turned off the light and closed her eyes. And the ocular version of earplugs worked like a charm.

Dear Virgin, what a mess. And she had to wonder in what manner things were going to get worse. Fritz and two other doggen had gone over to her brother’s—to Havers’s—and she half expected them to come back with nothing. Maybe Havers would decide to just get rid of her things in the meantime. Like he’d done with her.

While she lay there in the dark, she sifted through the rubble of her life, trying to see what was still usable and what she had to abandon as unsalvageable. All she found was depressing litter, a hodgepodge of unhappy memories that gave her no direction. She had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do or where she should go.

And didn’t that make sense. She’d spent three centuries waiting and hoping for a male to notice her. Three centuries trying to fit in with the glymera. Three centuries working desperately to be someone’s sister, someone’s daughter, someone’s mate. All those external expectations had been the laws of physics that had governed her life, more pervasive and grounding than gravity.

Except where had trying to meet them gotten her? Orphaned, unmated, and shunned.

All right, then, her first rule for the rest of her days: no more looking outside for definitions. She might not have any clue who she was, but better to be lost and searching than shoved into a social box by someone else.

The phone next to the bed rang and she jumped. After five rounds of chiming, she answered the thing only because it refused to stop going off. “Hello?”

“Madam?” A doggen. “You have a call from our master Butch. Are you receiving?”

Oh, great. So he’d heard.

“Madam?”

“Ah…yes, I am.”

“Very well. And I’ve given him your direct dial. Please hold.”

There was a click and then that telltale gravel voice. “Marissa? Are you okay?”

Not really, she thought, but it was none of his business. “Yes, thank you. Beth and Wrath have been very charitable to me.”

“Listen, I want to see you.”

“You do? Then may I assume that all your problems have magically disappeared? You must be thrilled to be back to normal. Congratulations.”

He cursed. “I’m worried about you.”

“Kind of you, but—”

“Marissa—”