The Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4

by J. R. Ward

  Man, he was so going to have to go slow. For the both of them.

  “I love your scent, Marissa.” He kissed her belly button, then her hip, going downward inch by creamy inch. Lower…lower…until he finally pressed his closed mouth to the top of her cleft.

  Which was great for him. The problem was she went totally rigid. And jumped as he laid his hand on her outer thigh.

  He moved back up a little and rubbed his lips back and forth on her stomach. “I’m so lucky.”

  “W-why?”

  “How would you feel if someone trusted you like this? Trusted you with such a private thing?” He blew into her belly button, and she laughed a little as if the warm air tickled. “You honor me, you know that? You really do.”

  He soothed her out with words and leisurely kisses that lingered a little longer and went a little lower each time. When she was ready, he swept his hand down the inside of her leg, clasped the back of her knee and gently separated her just a couple of inches for himself. He kissed her slit softly, again and again. Until the tension eased out of her.

  Then he lowered his chin, opened his mouth, and licked her. She gasped and sat up.

  “Butch…?” As if she were checking to make sure he knew what he’d done.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” He bent down and lightly traced up her pink flesh with his tongue. “This is all about French kissing, baby.”

  As he repeated the slow sweeps, her head fell back, and the tips of her breasts rose as her spine curled. Perfect. Just where he wanted her to be. Not worried about modesty or anything like that, just enjoying the feel of someone loving her like she deserved.

  With a smile, he kept going, gradually dragging deeper and deeper until he got a real honest-to-God taste of her.

  His eyes rolled back in his head as he swallowed. She was like nothing he’d ever pulled down his throat. The ocean and ripe melon and honey all together, a cocktail that made him want to weep from the perfection of it. More…he needed more. But goddamn, he had to put a choke hold on himself before he could keep going. He wanted to feast on her, and she wasn’t ready for that kind of gluttony.

  As he took a little breather, she tilted her head up. “Is it over?”

  “Not by a long shot.” Man, he loved that glassy, sexed-up look in her eyes. “Why don’t you lie back and let me do my thing. We’re just getting started here.”

  As she relaxed a little, he looked down at her secrets, seeing the high gloss on the tender flesh, thinking there was going to be a whole lot more of that shine when he was through. He kissed her again, then lollipopped her, flattening his tongue out and trolling up nice and lazylike. Then he swept his mouth from side to side, nuzzling in farther, hearing her moan. With gentle pressure, he opened her thighs more and latched on to her, drawing on her core in a rhythmic sucking.

  When she started to thrash, a buzzing lit off in his head, the shrill warning a Danger, Will Robinson from the civilized part of him that things were about to go meteoric. But he couldn’t quit, especially as she grabbed onto the sheets and arched up like she was going to come at any second.

  “Feel good?” He tickled the top of her cleft, flicking over the most sensitive part. “You like this? You like me tonguing you? Or maybe you like this…” He sucked her into his mouth and she cried out. “Oh, yeah…God, my lips are covered with you…feel them, feel me…”

  He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, moving her fingers back and forth, then licking them clean. She watched him with wide eyes, panting, nipples tight. He was pushing her hard and he knew it, but she was right there with him.

  He bit her palm. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

  “I…” Her body undulated on the bed.

  “Tell me you want me.” He nailed her harder with his teeth. Shit, he wasn’t sure why he needed to hear it from her so badly, but he did. “Say it.”

  “I want you,” she gasped.

  From out of nowhere, a dangerous, greedy lust slapped hold of him and his control shattered. With a dark sound that came from his gut, he clamped his hands on the insides of her thighs, split her wide and literally dove between her legs. As he fell upon her flesh, penetrating her with his tongue, finding a rhythm with his jaw, he was dimly aware of some kind of noise in the room, a growling.

  Him? Couldn’t be. That was the sound of…an animal.

  Marissa had been shocked by the act at first. The carnality of it. The sinful closeness, the scary vulnerability. But soon none of that mattered. Butch’s warm tongue was so erotic she could hardly bear the slick, slippery sensation of it—and couldn’t stand the idea that he’d ever stop what he was doing, either. Then he started sucking on her, sucking and swallowing and saying things that made her sex swell until the pleasure stung like pain.

  But all that was nothing compared to when he let loose. With a surge of male need, his heavy hands held her down, his mouth, his tongue, his face going all over her…God, that sound coming out of him, that throaty, pumping purr…

  She orgasmed wildly, the most shattering, beautiful thing she’d ever felt, her body arching into the liquid flashes of pleasure—

  Except at the crest, the seething energy shifted, transformed, detonated.

  Bloodlust roared along the sexual current between them, then pulled her down into a spiral of starvation. Hunger ripped through her civilized nature, shredding everything but the need to go for his neck, and she bared her fangs, ready to flip him over onto his back and strike at his jugular and drink hard—

  She was going to kill him.

  She cried out and struggled against his hold. “Oh, God…no!”

  “What?”

  Shoving at Butch’s shoulders, she hauled her body away from him, shooting off the side of the bed and falling to the floor. As he reached for her in confusion, she scrambled across the rug to the far corner, her dress dragging behind, the top hanging from her waist. When there was no farther to go, she curled into a ball and held herself in place. As her body shook uncontrollably, the pain in her belly hit in waves, redoubling each time it returned.

  Butch came after her, panicked. “Marissa…?”

  “No!”

  He hauled up short. His face was stricken, all the color run out of his skin. “I’m so sorry—dear God—”

  “You’ve got to go.” As tears came up her throat, her voice went guttural.

  “Sweet Jesus, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you…”

  She tried to control her breathing so she could reassure him, but lost the fight: She was panting, crying. Her fangs throbbed. Her throat was dry. And all she could think of was launching herself onto his chest. Pushing him down on the floor. Closing her teeth on his neck.

  God, the drinking. He would taste good. So good, she couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of him.

  He tried to come close to her again. “I didn’t mean for things to go so far—”

  She leaped up, opened her mouth, and hissed at him. “Get out! For God’s sake, leave! Or I’m going to hurt you!”

  She raced for the bathroom and locked herself in. As the sound of the door slamming shut faded, she skidded to a halt on the marble and caught the horrible sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, her dress undone, her fangs showing white and long in her gaping mouth.

  Out of control. Undignified. Defective.

  She grabbed the first thing she saw, a heavy glass candleholder, and hauled it against the mirror. As her reflection shattered, she watched through bitter tears as the pieces of herself fell apart.

  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 q
uiet 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-fucked 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, fuck 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.

  When his cell phone started ringing in his pocket, he palmed the Razr. “Yeah?”

  V’s voice was low. “Sorry you had to walk in on that. I didn’t expect you to come—”

  “V, what happens when a vampire doesn’t feed?”

  There was a pause. “Nothing good. You get tired, real damn tired. And the hunger hurts. Think food poisoning. Waves of pain rolling through your gut. If you let it get too out of hand, you turn into an animal. It gets dangerous.”

  “I’ve heard those stories about Zsadist, back before he got with Bella. He lived off humans, right? And I know for a fact those women didn’t die. I’d see them back in the club after he was finished with them.”

  “You thinking of your girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, you headed for a drink?”

  “More than one.”

  “I’ll meet you.”

  When Butch pulled into ZeroSum’s parking lot, V was waiting by the side of the club, smoking a hand-rolled. Butch got out and triggered the Escalade’s alarm.

  “Cop.”

  “V.” Butch cleared his throat and tried not to think about what his roommate looked like feeding and having sex. He failed. All he saw was Vishous over that female, dominating her, pumping into her, his body moving like a piston.

  Man, he was going to have to readjust his definition of hard-core, thanks to that eyeful.

  V drew hard on his cigarette, then put it out on the heel of his shitkicker and slipped the butt into his back pocket. “You ready to go in?”

  “Christ, yes.”

  The bouncers let them bypass the wait line and then they walked through the club’s writhing, sweating, oversexed crowd to the VIP section. Within moments, and without an order, a waitress brought over a Lagavulin double and some Grey Goose.

  As V’s phone went off and he started talking, Butch glanced around—only to stiffen with a curse. In the corner, in the dim shelter of some shadow, he saw that tall, muscled female. And Rehvenge’s head of security was watching him, her eyes burning like she wanted a repeat of the bathroom action they’d had.

  Not going to happen.

  Butch looked down into his glass as V clipped his phone shut. “That was Fritz. Message from Marissa to you.”

  Butch’s head jacked up. “What she say?”

  “She wants you to know that she’s okay. Said she needs to lay low for tonight, but she’ll be fine tomorrow. Said she doesn’t want you to worry and she…ah, she loves you and you didn’t do anything wrong when you did whatever you did.” He cleared his throat. “So what did you do? Or is that TMI?”

  “Wicked TMI.” Butch tossed his drink back and held his empty glass up. The waitress came immediately.

  As she took off to get him a freshie, he looked down at his hands. And felt V’s eyes boring into him.

  “Butch, she’s going to need more than you can give her.”

  “Zsadist survived on—”

  “Z drank from a lot of different humans. You’re just the one. Thing is, because your blood is so w
eak, she’ll drain you in no time because she’ll have to do it so often.” V took a deep breath. “Look, she can use me if you want. You can even be there so you know what happens. Sex doesn’t have to be involved.”

  Butch tilted his head and focused on his roommate’s jugular. Then he imagined Marissa at that thick neck, the two of them together. Intertwined.

  “V, you know I love you like a brother, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You feed her and I’ll tear your fucking throat out.”

  V smirked, then broke into a full smile. The grin was so wide he had to cover his fangs with the back of his gloved hand. “’Nuff said, my man. And just as well. I’ve never let someone take my vein before.”

  Butch frowned. “Never?”

  “Nope. I’m a vascular virgin. Personally, I hate the idea of some female feeding off me.”

  “Why?”

  “Not my bag.” Butch opened his mouth and V held up his hand. “Enough. Just know I’m here if you change your mind and want to use me.”

  Not going to happen, Butch thought. Ever.

  Taking a deep breath, he thanked God for Marissa’s message. And he’d been right: She’d kicked him out because she needed to feed. That had to be it. Man, he was sorely tempted to head back home, except he wanted to respect her wishes and not behave like a stalker. Besides, tomorrow night, assuming this was about blood…well, then he had something for her, didn’t he.

  She was going to drink from him.

  When the waitress came back with more Scotch, Rehvenge showed up at the table with her. The male’s massive body blocked out the view of the crowd which meant Butch couldn’t see the guy’s security officer. Which meant he could take a deep breath.

  “My people keeping you wet enough?” Rehv asked.

  Butch nodded. “Very wet.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” The Reverend slid into the booth, his amethyst eyes scanning the VIP section. He looked good, his suit black, his silk shirt black, his mohawk a dark cropped stripe that ran front to back on his skull. “So I want to share a little news.”