• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“…nine…ten.” V pulled back, blew two breaths into Butch’s mouth, then put his finger to the male’s throat.

“Please, Butch,” she begged.

V went for the stethoscope. Moved the disk around, searching. “Nothing. Fuck.”

Chapter Thirty-eight

Two minutes later, Marissa grabbed V’s shoulder when the Brother stopped CPR. “You can’t quit!”

“I’m not. Give me your arm.” When she did, Vishous cut through the skin of her wrist. “Over his mouth. Now.”

Marissa rushed to Butch’s head, pushed his lips and teeth apart and put the slice right to him as Vishous resumed chest compressions. She held her breath, praying that Butch would start to drink, hoping that some of her was getting into him and helping.

But, no…he was dead…Butch was dead…Butch was dead—

Someone was moaning. Her. Yes, she was making that noise.

Vishous paused and felt Butch’s neck. Then fumbled for the stethoscope. He was putting the disk down when Marissa thought she saw Butch’s chest move. Or maybe not.

“Butch?” she said.

“I got something.” Vishous repositioned the disk. “Yeah…I got something—”

Butch’s ribs expanded as he sucked a breath in through his nose. Then his mouth moved against her wrist.

She repositioned her arm so the wound fit better over his lips. “Butch?”

His chest inflated more deeply, his mouth backing off her vein as he drew air down into his lungs. There was a pause and then another breath. Deeper still…

“Butch? Can you—”

Butch’s eyes popped open. And she went cold to the core.

The male she loved was not in that stare. There was nothing in it. Just blank hunger.

With a roar, he grabbed her arm, his grip so powerful she gasped. There was no escape as he latched on with his mouth and started drinking in ferocious pulls. Twisting on the table, he savaged her wrist, his eyes fixated, animalistic as he breathed through his nose and swallowed in great yanks.

Through the pain, she felt total, abject fear.

Tell me you’re still in there, she thought. Tell me you are still with us…

It wasn’t long before she became light-headed.

“He’s taking too much,” Vishous said, all urgent.

Before she could respond, she became aware of a scent in the room, a dark…yes, a bonding scent. Wrath’s. Except why would he feel the need to establish his mating territory here and now?

She swayed and Vishous’s hard fingers grabbed her upper arm. “Marissa, you’re done.”

But Butch was starving, mad from hunger. “No! No—”

“Let me take over.”

Marissa’s eyes shot to Beth…then focused on Wrath. Standing at his shellan’s side, Wrath’s face was set in violent lines, his body coiled as if he were about to fight something.

“Marissa? Will you let me feed him?” Beth said.

Marissa looked at the queen. God, those words, those same words that had been spoken back in July…when Wrath’s body had balanced on the edge of life and Marissa’s vein had been what was needed.

“Will you, Marissa?”

As she nodded her head numbly, Wrath started to growl, his lips peeling off fangs that had elongated into white knives.

Oh, Lord, this was a very dangerous situation. Fully bonded males did not share. Ever. In fact, they would fight to the death before they let another male anywhere near their females when it came to feeding.

Beth looked up at her hellren. Before she said anything, Wrath bit out, “V, get your ass over here and hold me back.”

As Vishous approached the king, he wished Rhage was with him.

Shit…this was a bad idea. A pure-blooded, bonded male vampire about to watch his shellan feed someone else. Holy hell, when the Scribe Virgin had suggested Beth come down, V had assumed it was for ceremonial purposes, not so she could be a vein. But what was the choice? Butch was going to suck Marissa dry and not have enough and there wasn’t another female in the house who could do the job: Mary was still human and Bella was pregnant.

Besides, like dealing with Rhage or Z would be any easier? For the beast, they’d need a tranq gun the size of a cannon and Z…well, shit.

Beth reached up and stroked her hellren’s face.