Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(73)

Chapter Twenty-two




Butch threw himself at the bathroom door and jerked the handle until his palm nearly tore open. On the other side he heard Marissa crying. Then a shattering noise.

He drove his shoulder into the wooden panels. “Marissa!”

He hit the door with his body again, but then stopped and listened. Wild fear bit into him when there was only silence. “Marissa?”

“Just go.” The quiet desperation in her voice made his eyes sting. “Just…go.”

He splayed his hand on the wood that separated them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Go…just go. Oh, God, you have to leave.”

“Marissa—”

“I won’t come out until you’re gone. Go!”

Feeling as if he were in a nightmare, he grabbed his jacket and stumbled out of the bedroom, all sloppy, loose-bodied, weak in the knees. Out in the hall, he sagged back against the wall and banged his head into the plaster.

Squeezing his eyes shut, all he could see was her cowering in the corner, her trembling body drawn in a defensive crouch, her gown hanging loose from her bare breasts as if it had been ripped off her.

Fuck. Him. She was a lovely virgin and he’d treated her like a whore, pushing her too far and too hard because he hadn’t been able to control himself. Christ, no matter how hot she burned, she wasn’t used to what a man wanted to do during sex. Or what happened when a man’s instincts took over. And even though he’d known all of that, he’d still held her down on that bed by the thighs, trapping her while he tongue-f*cked her, for God’s sake.

Butch slammed the back of his skull into the wall again. Dear God, she’d been so scared, she’d even bared her fangs as if she had to protect herself from him.

With a nasty curse, he tore off down the stairs, trying to outrun how much he despised himself, knowing he couldn’t go that fast or that far.

When he hit the foyer, someone yelled, “Butch? Yo, Butch! You okay?”

He burst outside, jumped into the Escalade, and cranked the engine. All he wanted to do was apologize to her until he was hoarse, but he was the last person on the planet she wanted to see at the moment. And he didn’t blame her.

He gunned the SUV for downtown, heading straight for V’s place.

By the time he’d curbed the Escalade and was riding up the high-rise’s elevator, he was about to take the bridge he was such a mess. He threw open V’s door—

Shit!

In the glow of black candles, Vishous was bent over with his head down, his leather-clad hips driving back and forth, his bare shoulders and massive arms flexed up hard. Beneath him, a female was tied down on the table at the wrists and ankles, her body wrapped in leather except for the tips of her breasts and where V was slamming into her core. Even though there was a mask over her face and a ball gag in her mouth, Butch was pretty damn sure she was on the verge of an orgasm. She was making little mewling noises, begging for more even as tears streaked down her leather-covered cheeks.

When V’s head lifted from the female’s neck, his eyes were glowing and his fangs were long as…well, she might need stitches, put it that way.

“My bad,” Butch blurted and ducked out of the penthouse.

He went back down for the Escalade in a daze and couldn’t seem to think of anywhere to go once he got to the SUV. He just sat in the driver’s seat, key in the ignition, hand on the gearshift…picturing Vishous feeding.

The glowing eyes. The long fangs. The sex.

Butch thought about how unconcerned Marissa had been that she was ill. And her voice popped into his head. I can take care of it. Then, I don’t want to hurt you.

What if Marissa needed to feed? What if that was why she’d sent him away? She was a goddamned vampire, for chrissakes. Or did he think those beautiful fangs of hers were just for decoration?

He put his head down on the steering wheel. Oh, man, this was so unattractive. He had no business looking for other explanations. Besides, why hadn’t she just asked if she could take some of him? He would have let her in a heartbeat. Maybe even faster.

Hell, the mere thought of it gave him a massive hard-on. The idea that she would settle in at his neck and suck was a turn-on the likes of which he’d never come across before. He pictured her naked, sprawled on his chest, her face at his throat—

Careful, O’Neal. Be careful you’re not just looking for an out here.

Except she had been aroused, hadn’t she. He’d tasted it. In fact, when he’d gone hard-core on her, it had seemed as if that sweetness had flowed even more. But then why hadn’t she just told him what was wrong?

Maybe she didn’t want to drink from him. Maybe she figured because he was a human he couldn’t take it.

Maybe because he was a human, he actually couldn’t.

Yeah, f*ck that. He’d rather die feeding her than know some other man was taking care of his woman. The idea of Marissa’s mouth on someone else’s neck, her breasts against someone else’s chest, her smell in someone else’s nose…her swallowing someone else’s blood…

Mine.

The word shot through his head. And he became aware his hand had moved into his coat and found the trigger of his Glock.

Hitting the gas, he took off for ZeroSum, knowing his next move had to be calming down and ironing his head out. Homicidal jealousy directed at some male vampire was so not on his to-do list.