J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [112]
“He’s busy.”
“And you’ve been a lot to handle, haven’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“So would I be right in assuming that you and Daddy Dearest don’t have some kind of Leave It to Beaver thing going?” Mr. X waited. “Tell me the truth.”
“I hate him,” Riddle blurted.
“Why?”
Billy crossed his arms over his chest again. His eyes went cold.
“Why do you hate him, son?”
“Because he breathes.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Beth stared off into a vast white distance. She was in some kind of dreamscape, with hazy edges that suggested there was no end to what was before her.
A lone figure, lit from behind, approached out of the vapor. She sensed that it was male, whatever it was, and she didn’t feel threatened. She felt as if she knew him.
“Father?” she whispered, not sure whether she meant her own or God Himself.
The man was still quite far away, but his hand lifted in greeting, as if he’d heard her.
She stepped forward, but her mouth was suddenly flooded with a taste she didn’t recognize. She put her fingertips to her lips. When she looked down at them, she saw red.
The figure dropped his hand. As if he knew what the stain meant.
Beth slammed back into her body. It was like being catapulted and landing on gravel. Everything hurt.
She cried out. As her mouth opened, she got a rush of that taste. She swallowed reflexively.
Something miraculous happened. Like a balloon reinflating, her skin filled with life. Her senses came alive.
She blindly grabbed onto something hard. Latched on to the source of the taste.
Wrath felt Beth jerk like she’d been electrocuted. And then she started to drink at his neck with great, urgent pulls of her mouth. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.
His roar was one of triumph as he eased back on the bed, lying down so the blood flow would be better. He kept his head to one side, exposing his neck to her, and she crawled up onto his chest, her hair spilling all over him. The wet sound of her sucking, the knowledge he was giving her life, gave him a monstrous hard-on.
He held her loosely, stroking her arms. Encouraging her to take more of him. Take all that she needed.
Much later, Beth lifted her head. Licked her lips. Opened her eyes.
Wrath was staring up at her.
And he had a gaping wound in his neck.
“Oh, God…what have I done to you?” She reached to stanch the blood seeping from his vein.
He grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips. “Will you have me as your hellren?”
“What?” Her mind was having difficulty turning over.
“Marry me.”
She looked at the hole in his throat and her stomach lurched. “I-I…”
The pain came hard and fast. Tackling her. Taking her into a shadow box of agony. She doubled over, rolling onto the mattress.
Wrath shot up and cradled her in his lap.
“Am I dying…?” she moaned.
“Oh, no, leelan. You’re not. This will pass,” he whispered. “But it’s not going to be fun.”
Her entire digestive tract convulsed in waves, and she flopped over onto her back. She could barely make out Wrath’s face through the pain, but his eyes were wide with worry. He took her hand in his and she squeezed as the next blast of torture overtook her.
Her vision dimmed. Came back. Dimmed again.
Sweat dripped from her body, soaking the sheets. She gritted her teeth and arched. Turned this way and then another. Trying to escape.
She didn’t know how long it lasted. Hours. Days.
Wrath stayed with her the whole time.
Wrath took his first deep breath sometime after three A.M.
Finally, she was still.
And not dead still. Calm still.
She’d been so brave. She’d taken the pain with no whimpering, no crying. Even he had begged for his transition to be over.
A croak came out of her.
“What, my leelan?