J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [665]
His eyes flipped open and he nearly passed out.
Holy shit, he was alive and on the other side and…
Wait, this wasn’t Marissa. There was black hair hanging down over his face.
He jerked his mouth out of the way. “Marissa?”
When he heard her reply, he looked to the sound of her voice. Only to recoil.
Good…God. Not exactly what he expected to see and not a welcome wagon to his new life, either. Not by a long shot.
Wrath was right out of a Saturday-night movie, a hulking, snarling vampire monster, fangs bared, eyes glowing. And he wanted at Butch.
The good news was that he was being held back by Vishous and Marissa. The bad news was that they seemed to be on the verge of losing control of him.
Butch looked up at Beth, who was sucking the wound at her wrist shut. “Oh…shit.” He’d drunk a lot from her, hadn’t he? Oh…shit.
He let his head fall back against the table. Wrath was going to kill him. Absolutely. When they let that boy go, the king was going to wipe the floor with him.
Butch was cursing and measuring the distance to the door as Beth walked up to the trio.
“Wrath?” In a lower voice she said, “Keep holding him.”
Butch turned on his side and met Marissa’s eyes, praying he wasn’t about to lose his life now. And he was impatient to get close to his female, but this was one situation that needed to be diffused with care.
“Wrath?” Beth repeated.
Wrath’s instincts were so fired up, she had to talk at him for a while to get him focused on her instead of Butch.
“It’s over, okay?” She touched his face. “It’s done, it’s over.”
With a moan of desperation, Wrath pressed his lips to her palm, then squeezed his eyes shut in agony. “Tell them…tell them to let go slowly. And Beth…Beth, I’m going to come at you. I can’t…stop that. But it’ll be better than killing him…”
“Yeah…much better,” Butch agreed.
Beth stepped back and braced herself. “Let him go.”
It was like turning a tiger loose. Marissa ducked and scrambled out of the way while Wrath threw Vishous off with such force the brother slammed into a cabinet.
In one coordinated launch, the king went for Beth and bit her on the throat. As she gasped and fell back in ecstasy, Wrath wheeled around and nailed Butch with pure murder in his eyes.
It was obvious the king drank now not for sustenance but to mark, and his bonding scent was a screaming warning that filled the room. As soon as he felt his point had been made, he picked his shellan up in his arms and left. There was no question where they were headed: nearest room with a door so he could get inside of her.
Butch reached out for Marissa, and she came to him in the manner of hope to the disaffected: an illuminating warmth, a promise of a future worth living, a loving benediction. As she bent over him and held on tight, he kissed her softly and spoke a whole lot of nonsense, the words leaving him in an uncontrolled, un-thought-out rush.
When they separated a little to breathe, he looked at Vishous. The brother was standing awkwardly next to the open door and staring down at the floor, his big body trembling ever so slightly.
“V?”
V’s diamond eyes lifted and he blinked quick. “Hey, man.”
As Butch reached out a hand, Vishous shook his head. “Glad you’re back, cop.”
“Fuck you, come here. V…gitcha ass over here.”
V shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked to the gurney. Marissa was the one who linked them, drawing Vishous’s arm up and out so Butch could reach the brother’s palm.
“You all right?” Butch asked, squeezing.
For a split second, his grip was returned. Then V stomped one of his shitkickers like a horse and broke the contact. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
V was so twitchy, Butch took pity on him and changed the subject. “So is it over? Is that it?”
V stroked his goatee and glanced