Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood 4)

"But I do."

The Omega's head whipped around.

The Scribe Virgin materialized behind him, totally unrobed and glowing like a supernova.

The Omega instantly changed shape, becoming a wormhole in the fabric of reality, no longer an apparition but a smoky black pit.

"Oh, shit," V barked, as if he and Rhage were now able to see everything.

The Omega's voice emerged from the dark depths. "Sister, how fare thee this night?"

"I command thee back to Dhunhd. Go thou, now." The glow of her intensified until it began to encase the Omega's sinkhole.

A nasty growl drifted free. "Think you that banishment cures my presence? How simple you are."

"Go thou, now." A stream of words flowed from her into the night, neither the Old Language nor any other tongue Butch had ever heard.

Just before the Omega disappeared, Butch felt the eyes of the Evil bore into him as that horrible voice echoed out, "Lo, how you inspire me, my son. And may I say you would be wise to search for your blood. Families should congregate."

Then the Omega disappeared in a flare of white. As did the Scribe Virgin.

Gone. Both of them. Nothing remaining except a bitterly cold wind that cleared the clouds from the sky like curtains ripped away by a savage hand.

Rhage cleared his throat. "Okay... I'm not sleeping for the next week and a half. How about you two?"

"You all right?" V asked Butch.

"Yeah." No.

Jesus Christ... he was not the Omega's son. Was he?

"No," V said. "You're not. He just wants to believe you are. And he wants you to think you are. But that doesn't make it true."

There was a long silence. Then Rhage's hand landed on Butch's shoulder. "Besides, you don't look a thing like him. I mean... hello? You're this beefy Irish white boy. He's like... bus exhaust or some shit."

Butch glanced over at Hollywood. "You're sick, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me, right? Come on. I know you feel me."

Butch was the first to start chuckling. Then the other two joined in, the weight of the heavy-duty, high-powered weird-out that had just happened draining away a little.

But as their laughter faded, Butch's hand went to his stomach.

Twisting around, he looked to the mansion, searching the pale, frightened faces on the other side of the leaded windows. Marissa was right in front, her brilliant blond hair reflected in the moonlight.

He closed his eyes and turned away. "I want to take the Escalade back. By myself." If he didn't get some time alone, he was going to scream. "But first, do we need to do anything about the glymera and everything they saw?"

"Wrath will definitely hear about this from them," V muttered. "But as far as I'm concerned they're on their own. Besides, they can pay their therapists to work through this shit. Not our biz to calm them out."

After Rhage and V dematerialized back to the compound, Butch started for the Escalade. As he deactivated the SUV's security alarm, he heard someone running across the ground.

"Butch! Wait!"

He glanced over his shoulder. Marissa was jogging down toward him, and when she stopped, she was so close he could hear the blood in the chambers of her heart.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, running her eyes all over him.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Was that the Omega?"

"Yes."

She took a deep breath, like she wanted to probe but knew he wasn't going to talk about what had happened with the Evil. Not with the way things were between them. "Ah, before it came, I saw you kill that slayer. Is that... that burst of light, is that what you - "

"No."

"Oh." She dropped her eyes to his hands. No... she was looking at the dagger on his hip. "You were out fighting, before you came here."

"Yeah."

"And you saved that boy... Lash, didn't you?"

He glanced at the SUV. Knew he was a thin inch away from throwing himself at her, hugging her hard, and begging her to come home with him. Like a total f**king idiot. "Look, I'm going to leave, Marissa. Take... care."

He walked around to the driver's side and got in. When she followed, he shut the door on her, but he didn't start the engine.

Shit, through the glass and steel of the Escalade, he could feel her as vividly as if she were against his chest.

"Butch..." The sound of his name was muffled. "I want to apologize for something I said to you."

He gripped the steering wheel and stared out the front windshield. Then like the sap he was, his hand popped the door and he pushed it open. "Why?"

"I'm sorry I brought the whole rescuing-your-sister thing into it. You know, back at the Pit. That was cruel."

"I... Shit, you had a good point. I have been trying to save people all my life because of Janie. So don't feel bad."

There was a long pause, and he sensed something strong coming out of her, something - ah, yes, her need to feed. She was starving for a vein.

And naturally, his body wanted to give her every single one he had. Natch.

To keep himself in the damn Escalade, he put his seat belt on, then took one last look at her face. It was taut with strain and... hunger. She was really fighting her need, trying to hide it so they could talk.

"I gotta go," he said. Like now.

"Yes... me, too." She flushed and stepped back, her eyes meeting his briefly and skirting away. "Anyway, I'll see you. Around."

She turned away and started walking quickly back up to the house. And guess who appeared in the doorway to meet her: Rehvenge.

Rehv... so strong... so powerful... so completely able to feed her.

Marissa didn't make it another yard.

Butch shot out of the SUV, grabbed her around the waist, and dragged her back to the car. Although it wasn't as if she fought him. In the slightest.

He popped the rear door of the Escalade and all but threw her inside. As he started to get in, he looked at Rehvenge. The guy's violet stare was glowing, like he had half a mind to get involved, but Butch nailed the male right in the eye and pointed at the guy's chest, the universal signal for you-stay-right-there-buddy-and-you-get-to-keep-your-teeth. Rehv's lips moved in a curse, but then he bowed his head and dematerialized.

Butch leaped into the back of the SUV, slammed the hatch, and was on top of Marissa before the ceiling light dimmed. It was crowded in the rear, his legs twisted at odd angles, his shoulder shoved against something, probably the back of a seat, whatever. He couldn't have cared less and neither did she. Marissa was all over him, wrapping her legs around his hips and opening her mouth to him as he brutally kissed her.

Butch flipped them over so she was on top, fisted a bunch of her hair, and yanked her right down to his throat. "Bite!" he snarled.

Holy f**k, did she ever.

He felt a searing pain as her fangs sliced into him, and as he was penetrated, his body jerked wildly, causing his flesh to tear even more. Oh, but it was good. So good. She was taking deep draws from his vein and the satisfaction of feeding her was a buzzing rush.

He pushed a palm between their bodies and cupped the heat at the center of her, rubbing at her core. As she let out a crazy moan, he shoved up her shirt with his other hand. God bless her, she broke the contact with his neck long enough to whip off her blouse and ditch her bra.

"The pants," he said hoarsely. "Lose your pants."

As she stripped awkwardly in the confined space, he undid his zipper and sprang his erection free. He didn't dare touch the thing, he was so close to orgasm.

She mounted him fully naked, her pale blue eyes glowing, positively afire in the darkness. The red stain of his blood was on her lips and he rose up to kiss her mouth, then angled himself so as she sat down she hit his body just right. He kicked his head back as they joined and she pierced his neck on the other side. As his hips started going hard, she eased up on her knees so she was stable as she drank.

The orgasm shattered him.

But the moment it was over, he was ready to go again.

And he did.

Chapter Forty-seven

When Marissa had taken all she needed, she eased off Butch and lay next to him. He was on his back, staring up at the Escalade's ceiling, one hand resting on his chest. He breathed raggedly, his clothes all rumpled and misaligned, his shirt up around his pecs. His sex lay glistening and spent on his hard stomach, and his neck wounds were raw even after she'd licked them.