Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood 8)

The Omega was fickle by nature, but had OCD concentration about some things.

Bracing his hands on the basin, Lash dropped his head as his empty stomach pulled a churn and burn on him. He had to wonder how many more of those spots he had--and didn't want to know the answer.

His induction, rebirth, whatever, was supposed to be permanent. That's what his father had told him. He was born from the evil, spawned from a dark well that was eternal.

Rotting in his own skin had not been part of the deal.

"Y'all okay there?"

Lash shut his eyes, the sound of the Texan's voice like claws raking down his back. Except he just didn't have the energy to fuck-off the guy.

"How are things going downstairs?" he asked instead.

Mr. D cleared his throat. And still the disapproval made him choke on his words. "I do believe it'll be 'while yet, suh. "

Great.

Lash forced his sagging spine to straighten and turned to face his deputy--

In a sharp rush, his fangs punched into his mouth, and for a moment, he couldn't figure out why. Then he realized his eyes had locked on the guy's jugular.

Deep in Lash's belly, his hunger grew horns and went haywire, thrashing and gouging his gut.

It happened too fast to stop or question or think. One second he was rooted where he stood in front of the sink. The next he was all over Mr. D, shoving the lesser back against the door, and going hard into the guy's throat.

The black blood that hit his tongue was the tonic he needed and he drew with desperation, even as the Texan struggled and then fell still. But the fucker didn't have to worry. There was nothing sexual in the sucking. It was nutrition, plain and simple.

And the more he swallowed, the more he needed.

Jacking the slayer tight against his chest, he fed like a motherfucker.

Chapter Thirteen

As the sound of the slayer's boot against that gas can faded, Qhuinn moved down and sat on the SOB's legs. The bastard might have gotten one kick in, but he was not getting a second chance.

Outside, the human cops gathered around the shed.

"It's locked," one of them said as the chain rattled.

"I have shell casings over here. "

"Wait, there's something inside. . . phew, man, what a stench. "

"Whatever it is, it's been dead at least a week. That smell--I'd take even my mother-in-law's tuna casserole over that. "

There was a ripple of agreement.

In the darkness, John and Qhuinn locked eyes and waited. The only solution if the door got popped was to dematerialize and leave the lesser behind; there was no way of moving the weight of the slayer through thin air. But none of these policemen could possibly have the key--so that left shooting their way in as their only option.

And chances were good they'd assume a quick pop just to get into the shed was not worth the paperwork.

"Only one shooter, according to the nine-one-one call. And he can't be in there. "

There was a cough and a curse. "If he is, his nose is falling off from the stank. "

"Call the groundskeeper," a deep voice said. "Someone's gotta get that dead animal out of there. Meantime, let's head into the neighborhood. "

There was chatter and footsteps. A little later one of the cars drove off.