"I will serve you. Sit down." He indicated his chair and then headed off through a swinging door.
She eyed the men.
Great. Here she was, naked in a bathrobe, alone with well over a thousand pounds of vampire. Pulling off the nonchalant thing was impossible, so she just headed over for Wrath's seat. She didn't get far.
There was a loud scraping noise as five chairs slid backward. The men rose as a unit. And started coming for her.
She looked to the faces of the two she knew, but their grave expressions weren't encouraging.
And then the knives came out.
With a metallic whoosh, five black daggers were unsheathed.
She backed up frantically, hands in front of herself. She slammed into a wall and was about to scream for Wrath when the men dropped down on bended knees in a circle around her. In a single movement, as if they'd been choreographed, they buried the daggers into the floor at her feet and bowed their heads. The great whoomp of sound as steel met wood seemed both a pledge and a battle cry.
The handles of the knives vibrated.
The rap music continued to pound.
They seemed to be waiting for some kind of response from her.
"Umm. Thank you," she said.
The men's heads lifted. Etched into the harsh planes of their faces was total reverence. Even the scarred one had a respectful expression.
And then Wrath came in with a squeeze bottle of Hershey's syrup.
"Bacon's on the way." He smiled. "Hey, they like you."
"And thank God for that," she murmured, looking down at the daggers.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Marissa smiled, thinking that the human got more handsome the longer she was around him. "So you protect your kind for a living. That is good."
He shifted beside her on the couch. "Well, actually, I don't know what I'm going to do now. I have a feeling I'm about to be between jobs."
The chiming of a clock made her wonder how much time they'd spent together. And when the sun was coming up. "What time is it?"
"Just after four A.M."
"I must go."
"When can I see you again?"
She stood. "I don't know."
"Can we have dinner?" He leaped up. "Lunch? What are you doing tomorrow?"
She had to laugh. "I don't know."
She'd never been pursued before. It was nice.
"Ah, hell," he muttered. "I'm blowing it with this overea-ger sh-stuff, aren't I?" He put his hands on his hips and stared at the carpet as if disgusted with himself.
She stepped forward. His head snapped up.
"I would touch you now," she said softly. "Before I go."
His eyes flared.
"May I? Butch?"
"Anywhere," he breathed.
She lifted her hand, thinking she would just put it on his shoulder. But his lips fascinated her. She'd watched them move while he enunciated his words and wondered what they felt like.
"Your mouth," she said. "It's rather…"
"What?" His voice was hoarse.
"Lovely."
She put her fingertip on his lower lip. His gasp drew air over her skin, and when he exhaled on a shudder, it came back warm and moist.
"You're soft," she said, brushing her forefinger back and forth.
He closed his eyes.
His body was throwing off the most intoxicating scent. She'd caught the heady fragrance the moment he'd first seen her. Now, it saturated the air.
Curious, she slipped her finger into his mouth. His eyes flipped open.
She felt his front teeth, finding the absence of fangs odd. When she went in farther, it was slick, wet, warm.
Slowly, his lips closed around her finger. And then his tongue ran around the tip in a circle.
A surge went through her body. "Oh…"
Her breasts tingled at the tips, and something was happening between her legs. She felt achy. Hungry.
"I want…" She didn't know what to say next.
He covered her hand with his and pulled his head back, sucking the length of her finger until it popped out of his mouth. With his eyes boring into hers, he turned her palm over, licked the center of it with his tongue, and pressed his lips to her skin.
She leaned into him.
"What do you want?" he asked in a low voice. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want."
"I… don't know. I've never felt this before."
Her answer seemed to crack the spell. His face grew dark, and he dropped her hand. A curse, soft and vile, floated out of him as he put some space between them.
Marissa's eyes burned at his rejection. "Have I displeased you?"
God knew, it was something she seemed to excel at when it came to males.
"Displeased? No, you're doing just fine. You're a real pro." He pushed a hand through his hair. He seemed to be struggling with himself, as if he were trying to get back to normal from some faraway place. "It's just that the innocent act is freaking me out a little."