J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [619]
“Shit.”
“That’s about the gist of it. As we’re sitting here, my woman is with another man. He’s an aristocrat, by the way. Did I mention that? A fancy-ass male is touching…yeah, anyway…. Whoever he is, he’s stronger than I am. He’s giving her what she needs. He’s feeding her. He’s—” Butch cut off the tailspin. “So how’s your night going?”
“I told you, the drinking doesn’t have to be sexual.”
“Oh, I know that.” The cop leaned back as his next drink arrived. “You want some Goose? No? Okay…I’ll hold it down for the both of us.” He hammered half the Scotch before the waitress even turned around. “It’s not just the sex. I can’t stand the idea of someone else’s blood in her. I want to feed her. I want to keep her alive.”
“That’s not logical, my man.”
“Fuck logic.” He looked down at the Scotch. “Jesus…didn’t we just do this?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean…We were just here last night. Same drink. Same table. Same…everything. It’s like I’m locked into this pattern and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of me.”
“How about I take you home?”
“Don’t want to go back to th—” Butch’s voice cut off and he stiffened in his seat, his shot glass lowering slowly to the table.
V went on red alert. Last time the cop had sported that fixated expression there had been lessers in the fucking bushes. Except as Vishous looked around, he saw no one special, just the Reverend walking into the VIP area and heading for his office.
“Butch? My man?”
Butch stood up from the table.
Then moved so fast, V had no time to catch him.
Chapter Twenty-six
Butch’s body was out of his control and acting independently as he shot across the VIP section at Rehvenge. All he knew was that he’d caught Marissa’s scent and tracked it over to the mohawk-sporting male. Next move was gunning for the guy like he was a felon.
He took the Reverend down hard, surprise working in his favor. As they hit the floor, the male’s “What the fuck!” carried, and bouncers started homing in from all directions. Just before Butch got pulled off, he yanked Rehvenge’s shirt collar open.
There they were. Puncture marks right on the guy’s throat.
“No…shit, no…” Butch fought against the hard hands that grabbed at him, fought and kicked until somebody got in front of him, raised a fist and popped him one right in the face. As a bomb burst of pain went off in his left eye, he realized it was the female security guard who’d hit him.
Rehvenge plugged his cane into the floor and got up, his eyes a violent purple. “In my office. Now.”
There was some conversation at that point, not that Butch was following much. The only thing he could focus on was the male in front of him and the evidence of the feeding. He pictured the guy’s massive body underneath Marissa’s, her face dropping down into his neck, her fangs piercing skin.
No doubt Rehvenge had satisfied her. No. Doubt.
“Why did it have to be you?” Butch yelled into the fray. “I fucking like you. Why did it have to be you?”
“Time to go.” V cranked Butch into a headlock. “I’m taking you home.”
“Not right now you aren’t,” Rehvenge snarled. “He took me down in my house. I want to know what the fuck was going through his head. And then you’re gonna want to give me a good goddamn reason why I shouldn’t cap both his knees.”
Butch spoke up nice and loud. “You fed her.”
Rehvenge blinked. Lifted his hand to his neck. “Excuse me?”
Butch growled at the bite marks, his body trying to break free again. God, it was like there were two halves of him. One that made a little sense. And one that was completely off the curve. Guess which side was winning.
“Marissa,” he spat. “You fed her.”
Rehv’s eyes peeled wide. “You’re the one? You’re the one she’s in love with?”
“Yeah.”
Rehv sucked in a shocked breath. Then he rubbed his face and dragged his collar together, hiding the wounds. “Oh…hell. Oh…for fucking hell.” He turned away. “Vishous, get him gone and sober him up. Jesus Christ, the world is too goddamned small tonight,