Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(99)

He swung around, two-fisting the Glock to keep it up in front and steady. Oh, shit!

A female with a child in her arms shot out of the house in a blind panic. And she had good reason to haul ass. Right on her heels was a hulking male with punishment on his face and a chain saw up over his shoulder. The lunatic was about to fall on the pair of them with that spinning blade, ready, willing, and able to kill.

Butch kicked up his gun muzzle two inches, aimed at the man’s head, and pulled the trigger—

Right as Vishous appeared behind the guy, reaching for the saw.

“Fuck!” Butch tried to stop his forefinger from squeezing, but the gun bucked and the bullet flew—

And someone grabbed Butch around the throat: The second lesser with the gun had moved in fast.

Butch got flipped off his feet and slammed onto the hood of the Escalade like he was a baseball bat. On impact, he lost his Glock, the weapon bouncing away, metal on metal.

Fuck that, though. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat and felt for the switchblade he carried. Bless the damn thing’s heart, it found his palm like it had come to a heel and he dragged his arm free. As the blade shot out, he jogged his torso to the left and stabbed the side of the slayer who held him down.

Howl of pain. Grip loosened.

Butch shoved hard against the chest above his, popping the lesser up off him. As the bastard hung in midair for a split second, Butch swung the knife in an arc. The switchblade streaked across the lesser’s throat, opening up a fountainhead of black blood.

Butch kicked the slayer to the ground and turned to the house.

Vishous was holding his own against the guy with the chain saw, avoiding the roaring blade while throwing body shots. Meanwhile, the female with the child was running like hell across the side yard while another, pale-haired lesser closed in from the right.

“Called for Rhage,” V had the presence of mind to holler.

“Going for vic,” Butch yelled as he took off. He ran flat out, his feet gouging into the ground, knees kicking up to his chest. He prayed he would get there in time, prayed he’d be fast enough…. Please, just this once…

He intercepted the lesser with a spectacular flying tackle. As they went down, he screamed for the female to keep going.

Gunshots went off somewhere, but he was too busy with a blurring struggle to care. He and the lesser rolled around in the patchy snow, punching and choking each other. He knew he was going to lose if they kept going like this, so out of desperation and some kind of driving instinct, he stopped fighting, let the slayer dominate him…and then locked stares with the undead.

That link, that horrible communion, that ironclad tie between them took root in an instant, rendering them both motionless. And with the bonding came an urge for Butch to consume.

He opened his mouth and began to inhale.





Chapter Thirty-one




Lying in the middle of the road, bleeding like a sieve, Mr. X kept his eye on the contaminated human who was supposed to be dead. The guy handled himself, especially as he took down a lesser in the side yard, but he was going to get overpowered. And sure enough, he did. As the slayer flipped him on his back, he was going to get slaughtered in—

Except then the pair of them froze, and the dynamic shifted, the rules of strength and weakness getting scrambled. The slayer might have been on top, but the human was in charge.

Mr. X became breathless. Something was happening over there…something…

But then a blond-haired Brother materialized out of thin air right beside the two. The warrior swooped down and tore the lesser off the human, breaking whatever link had been forged—

From out of the shadows, Van came over and blocked Mr. X’s view. “How’d you like to get out of here?”

Probably the safest course. He was about to pass out. “Yeah…and move fast.”

As Mr. X got picked up and rushed to the minivan, his head bobbed like a half-stuffed doll’s, and he watched through the wobbles as the blond Brother disintegrated the other lesser then knelt to check on the human.

Such f*cking heroes.

Mr. X let his eyes go lax. And thanked a God he didn’t believe in that Van Dean was too much of a new recruit to know that lessers didn’t take their injured back home with them. Usually, a damaged slayer was left where he fell either for the Brothers to stab him back to the Omega or for him to gradually rot.

Mr. X felt himself get shoved into the minivan, and then the engine started and they were off. Easing over onto his back, he felt around his chest, assessing the damage. He was going to recover. It would take time, but his body wasn’t so hurt that it couldn’t regenerate.

As Van hung a sharp right, X was thrown against the door.

At his grunt of pain, Van looked back. “Sorry.”

“Fuck it. Get us gone.”

As the engine grew louder again, Mr. X closed his eyes. Man, that human showing up alive and breathing? Serious trouble. Serious trouble. What had happened? And why didn’t the Omega know that the human still lived? Especially because the guy reeked of the master’s presence?

Shit, who knew the whys. The more important thing was, now that X was aware that the man lived, did he tell the Omega? Or would that little news flash be what triggered another change in leadership and got X condemned forever? He’d sworn to the master that the Brothers had taken that guy out. He’d look like an idiot when it turned out not to be true.