Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #3)

by J.R. Ward

“The snow falls slowly tonight,” V said, rubbing his thumb back and forth over a thick jugular vein. Phury blinked as an odd calm came over him, his heart slowing to the rhythm of his brother’s thumb. “What?” “The snow…it falls so slowly.” “Yes…yes, it does.” “And we’ve had a lot of snow this year, haven’t we?” “Uh…yes.” “Yeah…lot of snow, and there’s going to be more. Tonight. Tomorrow. Next month. Next year. The stuff comes when it comes and falls where it will.” “That’s right,” Phury said softly. “There’s no stopping it.” “Not unless you’re the ground.” The thumb stopped. “My brother, you don’t look like the earth to me. You’re not stopping him. Ever.”

An image of Zsadist came to mind, clear as a photograph. She saw his savage black eyes. The scar that ran down his face and distorted his upper lip. The tattooed blood-slave bands around his throat and wrists. She remembered the whip marks on his back. And the piercings that hung from his nipples. And his muscled, too-lean body. She thought of his vicious, uncompromising will and all of his high-test hatred. He was terrifying, a horror of her species. Ruined, not broken, in the words of his twin. But that was what would have made him such a good savior. He alone was a match for the lesser who’d taken her. Zsadist’s kind of brutality was probably the only thing that could have gotten her out, though she knew better than to think that he’d ever try to find her. She was just some civilian whom he’d met twice. And the second time, he’d made her swear she would never come near him again.

Well…some of it he hated. Okay, the shit in his head he hated. But as the gentle pulls on his wrist continued, he realized he kind of liked them. At least until he thought about what she was swallowing. Dirty blood…rusted blood…corroded, infected, nasty blood. Man, he just couldn’t fathom why she’d turned down Phury. The male was perfect inside and out. Yet here she was on cold, hard tile, biting through a slave band with him. Why did she…

He wanted to see her eat. After the sex, after he came inside of her, he wanted to have her eat food he’d brought her, and he wanted her to take the stuff from his hand. Hell, he wanted to go out and kill something for her, bring the meat back, cook it himself, and feed her until she was full. Then he wanted to lie beside her with a dagger in his hand, protecting her as she slept. He ducked back into the closet. Man, he was going crazy. Straight-up loco.

“I won’t leave you,” he said. “No matter how long, no matter how many times. I’ll serve you and let you take my vein until it’s over. I will not abandon you.”

“Hi. How are you feeling?” “Downright perky, thanks for asking.” She smiled a little until she came up to him. With her night vision, she saw that he was lying on top of the covers with only a pair of boxers on. He had a gauze pad around his belly and was covered with bruises. And—oh, God—his leg… “Don’t worry,” he said dryly. “I haven’t had that foot-and-shin combo for over a century. And I really am okay. Just some aesthetic damage.” “Then why are you wearing that bandage like a sash?” “It makes my ass look smaller.”