As the Brotherhood got down to business, he found himself putting his hand on the dog’s big head and stroking the soft fur…playing with an ear…dipping down and finding the long waves that flowed from the animal’s broad, strong chest.
Not that any of that meant he was keeping the the animal, of course.
It just felt nice, was all.
Stichwörter: paranormal-romance vampire wrath black-dagger-brotherhood
Life is such a glorious trauma, is it not?
J.R. WardStichwörter: life wrath black-dagger-brotherhood jr-ward
Put on your big girl pants and deal.
J.R. WardThe smile he gave her was wistful, just a little lift to his mouth. "You are a fighter."
""Yes. Always. And sometimes I'm a whole army.
Stichwörter: story-of-son
When I want you to beg, I'll tell you.
J.R. WardBeth wrapped her arms around Wrath's waist and leaned into her hellren's body. Their black hair mixed together, his straight, hers wavy. God, Wrath's was so damn long now. But word was that Beth liked the stuff so he'd grown it out for her.
V wiped his mouth again. Weird, how males do shit like that.
Butch repositioned the Sox cap, and as his wrist passed by his nose, he got another whiff of himself. "Ah, V. . . listen, there is something a little weird going down on me."
"What?"
"I smell like men's cologne."
"Good for you. Females dig that kind of thing."
"Vishous, I smell like Obsession for Men, only I'm not WEARING any, you feel me?"
There was silence on the line. Then, "Humans don't bond."
"Oh, really. You want to tell that to my central nervous system and my sweat glands? They'd appreciate the news flash, I'm sure.
Butch nodded, finding as comfortable a bite as he could on the leather. He braced himself as V lifted an arm.
Except when his roommate's palm landed on his bare chest all he felt was a warm weight. Butch frowned. This was it? This was fucking it? Scaring the shit out of Marissa for no good-
He looked down, pissed off.
Oh, wrong hand.
A cold blast hit him and he laughed at the sting as he stepped outside, surveyed the night sky, and drank deeply.
Such a good liar he was. Such a good one.
Everyone thought he was fine because he'd camo'd his little problems. He wore a Sox hat to hide the eye twitch. Set his wristwatch to go off every half hour to beat back the dream. Ate though he wasn't angry. Laughed though he found nothing funny.
And he'd always smoked like a chimney.
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.
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