'No… bond.' She buried her face in his neck, inhaled, then started to rub her nose against his skin.
He gripped her hips, wondering just how far things were going to go. He wasn't sure he had the strength for sex, even though he was totally erect. And he didn't want to presume anything. But Jesus God in heaven he wanted it from her.
'I love the way you smell, Butch.'
'It's probably the soap I just used.' As her fangs dragged up his neck, he groaned, 'Oh, shit… don't… stop…'
Chapter Eleven
Vishous came into the clinic and headed straight back to the quarantine room. No one at the nursing station questioned his right to barge on through, and as he went down the hall, the medical staff tripped over their own feet to get out of his way.
Smart. He was heavily armed and edgy as hell.
The day had been a wasteland. He hadn't found anything in the Chronicles that approached what had been done to Butch. Nothing in the Oral Histories either. And worse, he was sensing things in the future, parts of people's destinies realigning, but he could see nothing of what his instincts told him was happening. It was like watching theater with the curtain down: Every once in a while he would see the velvet move as a body brushed the far side or he would hear indistinct voices or the lighting would shift under the tasseled hem. But he knew no particulars, his gray cells shooting blanks.
He strode past Havers's lab and went into the housekeeping closet. As he stepped through the concealed door, he found the anteroom empty, the computers and the monitors carrying on their sentry duties alone.
V stopped dead.
On the glowing screen closest to him, he saw Marissa lying on the bed on top of Butch. The cop's arms were around her, his bare knees split wide to accommodate her body as the two of them moved against each other in waves. V couldn't see their faces, but it was obvious their mouths were fused and their tongues wrapped.
V rubbed his jaw, dimly aware that under his weapons and his leathers, his skin had grown hot. God… damn… Butch's palm was slowly sliding up Marissa's spine now, going under her profusion of blond hair, finding, caressing the back of her neck.
The guy was totally sexed up, but he was so gentle with her. So tender.
V thought of the sex he'd had the night Butch had been taken. Nothing gentle about that. Which had been the point for both parties involved.
Butch shifted and rolled Marissa over, making a move to mount her. As he did, the hospital johnny broke open, the ties ripping free and revealing his strong back and powerful lower body. The tattoo at the base of his spine flexed as he pushed his hips through her skirts, trying to find home. And as he worked what was no doubt a rock-hard erection against her, her long, elegant hands snaked around and bit into his bare ass.
As she scored him with her nails, Butch's head lifted, no doubt to let out a moan.
Jesus, V could just hear the sound… Yeah… he could hear it. And from out of nowhere an odd yearning feeling flickered through him.
Butch's head dropped back down into Marissa's neck, and his hips started to surge and retract, then surge again. His spine undulated and his heavy shoulders shrugged and released as he found a rhythm that made V blink really quick. And then not at all.
Marissa arched up, her chining lifting, her mouth opening. Christ, what a picture she was under her male, her hair strewn all over the pillows, some of it tangled around Butch's thick bicep. In her passion, in her vibrant peach gown, she was a sunrise, a dawn, a promise of warmth, and Butch was basking in what he was lucky enough to touch.
The anteroom's door opened and V wheeled around, blocking the monitor with his body.
Havers put Butch's medical chart down on a shelf and reached for a hazmat suit. 'Good evening, sire. You've come to heal him again, have you?'
'Yeah…' V's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. 'But now's not a good time.'
Havers paused, suit in hand. 'Is he resting?'
Not in the slightest. 'Yeah. So you and I are going to leave him alone right now.'
The doctor's brows shot up behind his horn-rimmed glasses. 'I beg your pardon?'
V picked up the chart, shoved it at the doctor, then grabbed the suit and hung it back up. 'Later, doc.'
'I–I need to do an examination. I think he may be ready to go home—'
'Great. But we're leaving.'
Havers opened his mouth to argue and V got bored with the conversation. Clamping a hand on the doctor's shoulders, he looked into the male's eyes and willed him into agreement.
'Yes…' Havers murmured. 'Later. T-tomorrow?'
'Yeah, tomorrow works.'
As V frog-marched Marissa's brother back out into the hall, all he could think about was the images on that screen. So wrong of him to watch.
So wrong of him to… want.
Marissa was on fire.
When he finally broke the kiss, he was breathing hard and his hazel eyes were full of sexual hunger, a rank male starvation. Maybe she should have been overwhelmed because she had no idea what she was doing. Instead, she felt powerful.
As silence stretched, she said, 'Butch?' Though she wasn't exactly sure what she was asking for.
'Oh… God, baby.' With a light brush, his hand went down her neck to her collarbone. He paused as he got to the top of her dress, clearly asking for permission to take off her gown.
Which cooled her down fast. Her breasts seemed average enough, but it wasn't as if she'd seen any other female's to compare. And she couldn't bear to catch the sort of disgust males of her kind had looked at her with. Not on Butch's face, and especially not if she were naked. That distaste had been hard enough to bear fully clothed and coming from males she didn't care about.
'It's okay,' Butch said, removing his hand. 'I don't want to push you.'
He kissed her lightly and rolled off her, dragging a sheet over his hips as he eased onto his back. He covered his eyes with his forearm, his chest going up and down like he'd been running.
Marissa looked down at her bodice and realized she was clutching the fabric so hard her knuckles were white. 'Butch?'
His arm dropped and his head turned on the pillow. His face was still swollen in places, one of his eyes still black and blue. And she noticed that his nose had been broken, but not recently. Yet to her he was beautiful.
'What, baby?'
'Have you… have you had many lovers?'
He frowned. Inhaled. Looked like he didn't want to reply. 'Yeah. Yeah, I have.'
Marissa's lungs turned to concrete as she imagined him kissing other females, unclothing them, mating. She was willing to bet the vast majority of his lovers hadn't been clueless virgins.
God, she was going to throw up.
'Which is another reason it's good that we stop,' he said.
'How so?'
'I'm not saying it would have gone this far, but I would need a condom.'
Well, at least she knew what one of those was. 'But why? I'm not fertile.'
The long pause didn't inspire confidence. And neither did the way he cursed under his breath. 'I haven't always been careful.'
