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Butch shut his door and locked the SUV up tight. Then he turned and stared at John.
"I'm not even going to ask what's doing. The only thing I need to know is where you want to go. You feel like heading home, I'll take you to Tohr and Wellsie's. You want to hang at the Pit with me, we'll go over to the compound. You just want to drive, I'll take you to Canada and back. I'm up for anything, so you just say the word. And if you don't want to decide now, I'll tool around town until you figure it out."
John's little chest expanded and then contracted. He flipped open the notebook and took out his pen. There was a pause, and then he wrote something and flipped the paper around to Butch.
Seventh Street.
Butch frowned. That was a really shitty part of town.
He opened his mouth to ask why there of all places, but then shut his yap. The kid had clearly had enough questions thrown at him tonight. Besides, Butch was armed, and it was where John wanted to go. A promise was a promise.
"Okay, buddy. Seventh Street coming up."
But drive around for a while first, the kid wrote.
"No problem. We'll just chill."
Butch started the engine. Just as he put the Escalade into reverse, he saw a flash of something behind them. A car was pulling up to the back of the mansion, a very large, very expensive Bentley. He hit the brakes so it could pass and -
Forgot how to breathe.
Marissa came out of the house from a side door. Her hip-length blond hair blew in the wind, and she huddled into the black cape she was wearing. Moving quickly across the back parking lot, she dodged chunks of snow, leaping from asphalt spot to asphalt spot.
The security lights picked up the refined lines of her face and her gorgeous pale hair and her perfectly white skin. He remembered what it had felt like to kiss her, that one time he had, and his chest stung like his lungs were being crushed. Overcome, he wanted to rush out of the car, throw himself down in the slush, and beg like the dog he was.
Except she was heading for the Bentley. He watched as the door opened for her, as if the driver had leaned across and popped the handle. When the lights came on in the interior Butch couldn't see much, only enough to tell him that it was a man, or male, who was behind the wheel. Shoulders that big didn't come on female bodies.
Marissa gathered her cape with her hands and slid inside, shutting the door.
The light went off.
Dimly Butch heard some kind of shuffling next to him, and he glanced at John. The kid had shrunk back against the far window and was looking across the seats with fear in his eyes. That was when Butch realized he had palmed his gun and was growling.
Totally creeped out by the insane reaction, he took his foot off the Escalade's brake and stomped on the gas pedal.
"Don't worry, son. Nothing doing."
As he spun them around he looked in the rearview mirror at the Bentley. It was moving now, doing its own turn in the parking lot. With a grim curse Butch tore off down the driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles stung.
Rehvenge frowned as Marissa got into his Bentley. God, he'd forgotten how beautiful she was. And she smelled just as good... the clean scent of the ocean filling his nose.
"Why won't you let me come to the front door?" he said, taking in her fair hair and her flawless skin. "You should have let me pick you up properly."
"You know how Havers is." The door shut with a solid sound. "He'll want us mated."
"That's ridiculous."
"And you're not the same way with your sister?"
"No comment."
As he waited for an Escalade to clear out of the parking lot, Marissa laid a hand on his sable sleeve. "I know I said this before, but I'm so sorry for everything that happened to Bella. How is she?"
How the hell would he know? "I'd rather not talk about her. No offense, but I'm just... Yeah, I don't want to go there."
"Rehv, tonight doesn't have to happen. I know you've been through a lot, and frankly I was surprised you would see me at all."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm glad you called on me." He reached out and squeezed her hand. The bones under her skin were so delicate that he reminded himself he was going to have to be very gentle with her. She was not what he was used to.
As he drove them downtown, he could sense her nerves tightening. "It's going to be all right. I really am cool that you called."
"I'm rather embarrassed, actually. I just don't know what to do."
"We'll take it slow."
"I've only ever been with Wrath."
"I know. That's why I wanted to pick you up in the car. I thought you'd be too nervous to dematerialize."
"I am."
As they came up to a stoplight, he smiled at her. "I'm going to take good care of you."
Her pale blue eyes looked over at him. "You are a good male, Rehvenge."
He ignored that miscalculation and concentrated on the traffic.
Twenty minutes later they were stepping out of a high-tech elevator and into the vestibule of his penthouse apartment. His place took up half of the thirty-story building's top floor, overlooking the Hudson River and all of Caldwell. With the vast blocks of windows, he never used the place during the day. But it was perfect for the night.
He kept the lights low and waited as Marissa walked around and looked at things a decorator had bought for his lair. He didn't care about the stuff or the views or the fancy gadgets. He cared about the privacy from his family. Bella had never been here, and neither had their mother. In fact, neither knew he had the penthouse.
As if realizing she was wasting time, Marissa turned and faced him. Under the lights her beauty was absolutely stunning, and he was grateful for the extra hit of dopamine he'd pumped into his system about an hour ago. In symphaths, the drug had an opposite effect than when it was administered to humans or vampires. The chemical increased certain neurotransmitter activity and reception, ensuring that the symphath patient could feel no pleasure, no... nothing. With Rehv's sense of touch gone, his brain could better control the rest of his impulses.
Which was the only reason Marissa was safe to be alone with him, considering what they were going to do.
Rehv removed his coat, then walked over to her, relying on his cane more than usual because he could not take his eyes off her. Balancing the staff against his thighs, he slowly undid the bow that held her cape together. She stared down at his hands, trembling as he slid the folds of black wool from her shoulders. He smiled as he slung the weight over a chair. Her dress was the kind of thing his mother would wear and exactly what he wished his sister would put on more often: a pale blue satin gown that was fitted perfectly. It was Dior. It had to be.
"Come here, Marissa."
He drew her over to a leather sofa and pulled her down beside him. In the glow from the windows, her blond hair was like a shawl of silk, and he took some between his fingers. Her hunger was so strong, he could feel it clearly.
"You've waited for a long time, haven't you?"
She nodded and looked at her hands. They were knotted together in her lap, ivory against the light blue satin.
"How long?"
"Months," she whispered.
"Then you'll need a lot, won't you?" As she blushed, he pushed her. "Won't you, Marissa?"
"Yes," she breathed, obviously uncomfortable with her hunger.
Rehv smiled fiercely. It was good to be around a female of worth. Her modesty and her gentleness were damned appealing.
He took off his jacket and unknotted his tie. He'd been prepared to offer her his wrist, but now that she was in front of him, he wanted her at his neck. It had been forever since he'd allowed a female to feed from him, and he was surprised by how excited he was at the prospect.
He popped the buttons of his collar and undid the rest of them, all the way down his chest. With a surge of anticipation he yanked the shirt free and opened it wide.
Her eyes went round as she looked at his bare chest and his tattoos.
"I didn't know you were marked," she murmured, her voice shaking along with her body.
He eased himself back into the sofa, spreading his arms out, bringing one of his legs up. "Come here, Marissa. Take what you need."
She looked at his wrist, which was covered by a French cuff.
"No," he said. "This is the way I want you to do it. At my throat. It's the only thing I ask."
As she hesitated, he knew the rumors about her were true. She was indeed untouched by any male. And the purity of her was... something to be taken.
