J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [182]
“What’s your full name,” she murmured. “I just realized I know you only as V.”
“Vishous.”
Jane’s hand squeezed his. “Excuse me?”
“Vishous. Yeah, I know it’s odd for you—”
“Wait, wait, wait—how do you spell it?”
“V-i-s-h-o-u-s.”
“Good…God.”
“What?”
She cleared her throat. “Ah, a long, long time ago—a lifetime ago—I sat in my childhood bedroom with my sister. There was a Ouija board between us and we were asking it questions.” She looked up at him. “You were my answer.”
“To what question?”
“Who…Jesus, who I was going to marry.”
V smiled nice and slow, the way a man did when he was feeling pretty damn self-satisfied. “You wanna marry me then?”
She laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s just jack me into a white dress and do the altar thing—”
His expression lost the tease. “I’m serious.”
“Oh…God.”
“I don’t suppose that’s a yes?”
Jane pushed herself upright. “I…I never thought I’d get married.”
He winced. “Yeah, okay, that wasn’t exactly the reply I was going for—”
“No…I mean, I’m just surprised at how…easy it feels.”
“Easy?”
“The idea of being your wife.”
He started to smile, but then lost the expression. “We can do the ceremony in my tradition, but it won’t be official.”
“Because I’m not one of you?”
“Because the Scribe Virgin hates my ass, so there can’t be any presentation to her. But we can do the rest of it.” Now he grinned with an edge. “Especially the carving.”
“Carving?”
“Your name. My back. I can’t fucking wait.”
Jane whistled under her breath. “Do I get to do it?”
He barked a laugh. “No!”
“Come on. I’m a surgeon, I’m good with knives.”
“My brothers will do it—well, actually, I guess you could do a letter, too. Mmm, that gets me hard.” He kissed her. “Man, you are so my kind of girl.”
“Do I have to get cut?”
“Hell, no. It’s done on the males so everyone knows who we belong to.”
“Belong?”
“Yup. I’ll be yours to command. Lord over. Do what you want with. Think you can handle it?”
“I already have, remember?”
V’s lids dropped and he let out a growl. “Yeah, every fucking minute. When can we go to my penthouse again?”
“Name the when and I’m so there.” And next time she might find herself a little leather to wear. “Hey, do I get a ring?”
“If you want, I’ll buy you a diamond the size of your head.”
“Oh, right. Like I’m going to go glam. But how will people know that I’m married?”
He leaned down and nuzzled her throat. “Do you smell me?”
“God…yes. I love it.”
He brushed his lips on her jaw. “My scent’s all over you. It’s inside of you. That’s how my people will know who your mate is. It’s also a warning.”
“A warning?” she breathed, languor suffusing her body.
“To other males. It tells them who will come after them with a dagger if they touch you.”
Okay, that shouldn’t be erotic as hell. But it was. “You take the mate thing seriously, don’t you.”
“Bonded males are dangerous.” His voice was a low purr in her ear. “We kill to protect our females. That’s the way it is.” He pushed the covers off her, unzipped his leathers, and palmed her thighs apart. “We also mark what’s ours. And as I’m not going to see you for twelve hours, I think I’ll leave a little more all over you.”
He surged forward with his hips and Jane moaned. She’d had him so many times, but the size of him was always a shock. His hand pulled her head back by her hair, and his tongue shot into her mouth as he churned over her.
Except then he stopped. “Tonight we’ll be mated. Wrath will preside. Butch and Marissa will witness. You want a church thing, too?”
She had to laugh. The two of them were both such control freaks, weren’t they. Fortunately she was not inclined to fight him on this one. “I’m fine without a service. I don’t actually believe in God.”
“You should.”
She dug her nails into his hips and arched up. “Now is not the time for a theological debate.”
“You should believe, Jane.”
“The world doesn’t need another religious freak.”
He brushed her hair back. As his erection twitched