Dark Lover (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #1)

by J.R. Ward

By four that afternoon, Wrath was about to explode. He hadn’t been able to get back to Beth’s the night before. And she hadn’t shown this morning. Her failure to come to him meant one of two things: Something had happened to her or she was blowing him off. He checked the braille clock with his fingertips. Sundown was still hours away. Goddamned summer days. Too long. Way too long.

Wrath closed his eyes, listening to the beat of Jay-Z’s The Black Album, trying to let go of the night before.

“Never could figure out why he wanted me to come stay here so badly. No one could be that starved for company.” “It was for you.” Wrath narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Really.” “He worried that you were so alone. Living by yourself. No real shellan, no doggen. He used to say that your isolation was a self-imposed punishment.”

And he was not lonely. Never had been. Vengeance was one hell of a roommate.

The first code of the society was clear: That which you put on the ground, you kicked until it ceased to move. It was just that simple.

Going through the Caldwell Courier Journal’s archives, she’d found a couple of articles on the house. The mansion was on the National Register of Historic Places, as a fantastic example of the Federal style, and there were some stories and op-eds about the work that had been done on it immediately after Mr. Perlmutter had taken possession.

Wrath walked into the hall, feeling particularly ferocious. Man, Beth had better be alive and well. Or God help whoever had hurt her. And if she’d decided to avoid him? That didn’t matter. Her body was about to need something only he could provide her. So sooner or later she would come around. Or she would die. He thought of the soft skin of her neck. Felt the sensation of his tongue stroking over the vein that ran up from her heart. His fangs elongated as if she were before him. As if he could sink his teeth into her and drink. Wrath closed his eyes as his body began to shake. His stomach, full with food, turned into a bottomless, achy pit.

That female was dangerous to him. If she could affect him like this without even being in the damn room, she might just be his pyrocant.

Damn him. He needed to get Beth off his plate of responsibilities. Fast. As soon as she was through her transition, he was going to put her in the hands of an appropriate male. A civilian. In gory flashback, he pictured that young male’s bloody, beaten body. How the hell would a civilian keep her safe? He didn’t know the answer to that one. But what other option was there? He wasn’t going to keep her. Maybe he could give her to one of his brothers.

He stopped dead. His useless eyes worked well enough to tell him that some guy was all over her. As if the potent sexual craving of the male human wouldn’t have tipped him off. For God’s sake, he could smell the bastard’s lust through the sedan’s glass and steel. Wrath lunged forward. His first instinct was to rip the car door off and kill whoever had his hands on her. Just pull the guy out and tear his throat open. But at the last second he spun away and forced himself back into the darkness. Son of a bitch. He was literally seeing red, he was so worked up. That some other male was kissing those lips, feeling that body under his hands…

A low growl vibrated through his chest and out his mouth. She’s mine.

He cursed. Yeah, and in what parallel universe was he living in? She was his temporary responsibility, not his shellan. She could be with whomever she wished. Wherever. Whenever. But God, the idea that she might actually like what the guy was doing to her, that she might prefer the taste of the human’s kiss, was enough to make Wrath’s temples pound. Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admissio...

Thanks to catching a blurry eyeful of that makeout session, he didn’t like the cop to begin with. But if the guy addressed Beth one more time in that tone of voice, Wrath was going to show the man’s front teeth the joy of liberation. And then he was going to kill the son of a bitch.

“You should have stayed out of it, Officer,” the man said in a deep, accented growl. “You should have gone along on your way and let her come to me.”

“Don’t trust me. Don’t like me. I could give a shit. But don’t you ever lie to me.” He took a deep breath, as if he were drawing her into him. “I can smell the sex coming off you right now. I could take you down on this sidewalk and be up that skirt of yours in a heartbeat. And you wouldn’t fight me, would you?”

His lips brushed the side of her neck. And then his tongue licked her skin lightly. “Now, we can be civilized and wait until we get home. Or we can get down to it right here. Either way, I’m dying to come inside of you again, and you’re not going to say no.”

“I would kill to have you.”

Did you see him kiss me?” Wrath closed the space between their bodies, menace flowing out of him. “Yeah, I saw. And I hated that he was touching you. Does knowing that get you off? Do you want to nail me a good one and tell me he’s a better lover than I am? It would be a lie, but it would still hurt like hell.” “Why do you care so much?” she demanded. “You and I spent one night together. Not even! It was a couple of hours.”

“You don’t know this yet,” he said grimly. “But you are mine.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Too comfortable. Too familiar, he thought. Way too good. He held on to her anyway. And even as he did, he wished he could take back what he’d said to her on that sidewalk. About her being his. Because that wasn’t true. He didn’t want to take her as his shellan. He’d been worked up, jealous. Picturing that cop’s hands all over her. Pissed off that he hadn’t killed the human after all. The words had slipped out.

“Not me. Will I hurt you?” Wrath swallowed his surprise. No one worried about him. Vampires and humans alike feared him. His race worshiped him. But none were ever concerned for him. He didn’t know how to handle the sentiment.

“Don’t say no, Wrath.” And then she lifted up onto her tiptoes and put her lips to his. Game over, he thought, crushing her to him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he grabbed her hips and ground himself into her hand. Her moan of satisfaction cranked him even higher, and as her nails bit into his back, he loved the little bursts of pain he felt because they meant she was as hungry as he was. He had her on the bed and under him in a flash of movement, and he pushed up her skirt and tore off her panties with vicious impatience. He didn’t treat her blouse or bra any better. There would be time to savor later. Now was all about raw sex.

While he worked her breasts with his mouth, her hands were rough as she pulled his shirt from his chest. He left her only long enough to undo his pants and spring his erection. Then he linked his forearm behind one of her knees, stretched her leg up, and plunged himself into her body. He heard her gasp at his powerful entry, and her slick heat grabbed onto him, pulsating as she came. He froze in place, absorbing the sensation of her release, feeling her core stroke him. An overwhelming, possessive instinct flashed through him. With dread, he realized he wanted to mark her. Mark her as his. He wanted that special scent all over her so no other male

would come near her. So that they would know whom she belonged to. So that they would fear the repercussions of wanti...

The concern for him in her voice was what did it. With an awesome surge, his body leaped out of reach of his mind. Before he could think any further, before he could stop, he propped himself up on his arms and pounded into her, taking her hard, drilling her. The bed’s headboard banged against the wall to the beat of his thrusts, and she grabbed onto his straining wrists, trying to hold herself in place.

He came violently, filling her up, pumping into her, his orgasm going on and on and on, until he realized she was climaxing right along with him, the two of them holding on to each other for dear life against shattering waves of passion. It was the most perfect union he’d ever known.

Turning on the sink, she cleaned up, exquisitely sensitive and more than a little tender between her legs. Not that she cared about the ache. Wrath could do that to her anytime he wanted. He was… No words came to mind. Just an image of him releasing into her, his massive, sweat-covered shoulders and chest seizing up as he gave himself to her. As he branded her as his. Which was what it had seemed like. She felt as though she’d been dominated and imprinted by a man. Taken. And she wanted that again. Wanted him now.

“He’s a force of nature,” Tohr said, tilting back his beer. “And he’s deadly, no mistaking that. But there’s no one who will take better care of you, assuming he chooses to do so. Which he has with you.” “How do you know?” she whispered, wondering what Wrath had told him. Tohr cleared his throat, a flush hitting his cheeks. “He’s marked you.” She frowned, looking down at herself. “I can smell it,” Tohr said. “The warning’s all over you.” “Warning?” “As if you were his shellan.” “His what?” “His mate. That scent on your skin sends a powerful message to other males.” So she’d been right. About the sex they’d had and what it meant. That really shouldn’t please me as much as it does, she thought. “You don’t mind it, do you?” Tohr said. “Being his.”

“Yeah. Some males take more than one shellan, but I can’t imagine ever being with another female. Which is evidently why Wrath called me.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sorry?” “The other brothers, they have females they drink from, but they don’t have any emotional ties. There’d be nothing to prevent them—” He stopped and bit into another cookie. “Well, given that you’re…” “I’m what?” She felt as though she hardly knew herself. And she was willing to even take hints from strangers at this point. “Beautiful. Wrath wouldn’t have wanted to put you in any of the others’ care, because if they’d been tempted to make a move on you, there would be serious trouble.” Tohr shrugged. “Well, and a couple of the brothers are just flat-out dangerous. You wouldn’t want to leave any female alone with them, at least not one you cared about.”

He cursed out loud, knowing enough about male vampire behavior and psychology to realize he was in trouble. Hell, they were both in trouble now. A bonded male was a dangerous thing. Especially when he was going to have to leave his female. And give her into the keeping of another.

The need to avenge Darius burned. And the closer Wrath got to Beth, the hotter the fire.

Ah, hell. Even if the butler had been gone for only a minute and a half, Wrath would have been restless. He was pumped to see Beth, itchy and distracted. All he could think about was burying his face in her hair as he drove the hardest part of himself deep inside her body. God, those sounds she made when she came for him.

But sex wasn’t everything. He wanted to treat her with respect, not just throw her on her back. He wanted to slow down. Eat with her. Talk with her. Hell, he wanted to give her what females liked: a little TLC.

Yeah, okay, so he wasn’t exactly Hallmark-card material. But he could pull off some romance. Couldn’t he?

“Do you have any other business with me? If not, get the hell out of here.” Tohr lifted his hands. “Easy, brother.” “Fuck easy. I’m not talking about her with you or anyone else. Got it? And keep your mouth shut with the brothers, too.” “Okay, okay.” Tohr backed over to the door. “But do yourself a favor. Cop to what’s going on with that female. An unacknowledged weakness is deadly.”

There she was. Coming across the threshold. Walking into the hall. Wrath’s hands dropped to his sides. She was dressed in black. Her hair was up. She smelled…like night-blooming roses. He breathed in through his nose, his body hardening, his instincts demanding that he get her under him.

“When you went after Butch like that…Surely he’s not a…whatever, a lesser.” “He tried to keep me from you.” Wrath’s jaw clenched. “I will level anyone and anything before I’d let that happen. And whether he’s your lover or not, if he does it again—”

“No.” He paused. “The idea you will someday score another male’s skin with your teeth and take his blood inside of you makes me want to stab something.”

“God.” “What?” “To think of you going through the needing.” His body swayed, as if he’d closed his eyes. “To be the one you used.” Sexual heat came out of him in a rush. She could actually feel a hot gust move the air. “How long does it last?” she asked in a husky voice. “Two days. If the female is…serviced well and fed properly, she rebounds quickly.” “And the man?” “The male’s totally used up when it’s over. Milked dry. Drained of blood, too. It takes longer for him to recover, but I’ve never heard one complain. Ever.” There was a pause. “I’d love to be the one who relieves you.”

“Sight is seriously overrated, though,” he murmured, flattening his palm over her sternum. The weight was heavy. Warm. A foretaste of what his body would feel like pressing hers down into the mattress. “Touch, taste, smell, hearing. The other four senses are just as important.” He leaned forward, nuzzled her neck, and she felt a soft scratching. His fangs, she thought. Running up her throat. She wanted him to bite her.

Wrath breathed in deeply. “You have a perfume to your skin that makes me hard. Instantly. All I have to do is smell you.” She arched in his arms, rubbing herself against his thighs, thrusting her breasts up. Her head fell back, and she let out a little moan. “God, I love that sound,” he said, moving his hand up to the base of her throat. “Make it for me again, Beth.” He sucked her neck. She obliged. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Sweet heaven, that is so it.”

“I wouldn’t let Fritz change the sheets.” “What?” she mumbled. “On the bed. After you left. I wanted to smell you when I lay down in them.”

“Peaches,” he said, shifting her body, moving downward with his mouth, kissing the skin of her stomach. “Like eating peaches. Silky flesh on my lips and tongue as I suck. Smooth and sweet down the back of my throat when I swallow.” She moaned, close to orgasm and far, far away from sanity.

“Just like peaches,” he said, stripping off her panties. “And I love peaches.”

Wrath rolled onto his side and took Beth with him, keeping them joined. With his erection still twitching inside of her, he brushed her hair back. It was damp with her delicate sweat.

Mine. As he kissed her lips, he noted with satisfaction that she was still breathing hard. He’d made love to her properly, he thought. Slow and deliberate. “Will you stay?” he asked. She laughed huskily. “I’m not sure I can walk right now. So, yeah, I think lying here is a good option.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll return just before dawn.” As he withdrew from the warm cocoon of her body, she looked up. “Where are you going?” “I’m meeting with my brothers and then we’re going out.”

Beth stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. He could sense she was closing up on him again. He was tempted to lock her in, but he couldn’t bear to keep her as a prisoner. And his instincts told him that however much she might wish things were different, she was resigned to her fate, as well as his role in it. She was also safe from the lessers at this point, as they would see her only as a human.

“The other door out in the hall,” he said. “It opens into your father’s bedroom. I thought you might like to go in there.” Wrath left before he embarrassed himself. Warriors did not beg. They rarely even asked. They took what they wanted and killed for it if they had to.

But he really hoped she’d be there when he got back. He liked the thought of her sleeping in his bed.