Negative.

And his seventh call to Marissa had just gone unanswered. As had the other six.

Off in the distance, the chatter and subtle clanking of Last Meal being consumed bubbled out of the dining room.

For no good reason, he thought about the first night he’d listened to sounds like that. It had been at what was now the audience house. He’d been a homicide detective back then, out of control and looking for a source of total destruction so that he could just be done with life.

And then came the rabbit hole.

Beth had gone down it first, her mixed heritage as half human, half vampire sucking her in. His entrée had been something else entirely.

If you’re going to bloody the human, would you be good enough to do it in the backyard?

“You got her yet?”

Butch closed his eyes at the familiar male voice. Even though it was not even partially true, sometimes he felt like Vishous’s acerbic mutter had been in his head for his entire life.

“No.”

As the Brother approached, the scent of Turkish tobacco preceded him and Butch breathed in deep. Maybe it was a contact high, maybe it was the nasty bastard’s presence, but the volume of screaming panic in his ears decreased a little.

“You call her office at the Place?” V asked on the exhale.

“Voice mail. And I dialed Mary, too. Nothing.”

“Motherfucker—”

The subtle binging of the security monitor ripped his head around. When he saw the image on the screen, he lunged for the vestibule’s door, nearly tearing the heavy weight off its hinges.

“Oh, God, where have you been—”

He was on his Marissa so fast and hard, the rest of whatever gibberish came out of his mouth was lost as he held her against him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a muffled voice. “I was dealing with a case. I didn’t bother calling you because I had almost no time to get home.”

Pulling back, he put his palms on either side of her face and looked her over. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely. And I’m so sorry—”

He kissed her, shuddering as her hands traveled up his back. “No, no. Not sorry. I only care that you’re okay.”

Fucking hell, that sun was a terrifying thing. A vampire caught out at dawn was nothing but a bonfire in their clothes—and although Marissa was well protected at Safe Place, shit could happen: humans were unpredicable idiots and the slayers were downright deadly.

As she separated them, she smiled. “I’m fine, just fine.”

Yeah, right, he thought as her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

He tugged her arm. “Come with me.”

“But Last Meal is on the table—”

“Who cares.”

Drawing her into the billiards room, he would have shut them in together if there had been doors to close.

“What happened,” he demanded.

She wandered around a little, her incredible body turning those simple clothes of hers into haute couture. “Nothing you haven’t heard before, sadly.”

Butch closed his eyes. Sometimes he hated her job; he really did. The harder it got, though, the more she fought—and though it pained him to see her worn-out, worn down, and discouraged sometimes, he respected the hell out of her for what she did for her race. And it wasn’t all bad. When people she had helped transitioned back into independent living, his shellan glowed like the sun.

Taking her hand, he backed up against one of the pool tables, and pulled her in between his thighs. “Tell me anyway.”

Her eyes traveled around the room, but he stayed focused on her. And Jesus, even after a long, hard night, she took his breath away. Her beauty was legendary in the race, something that had been spoken about for generations and was still revered, and it was obvious why. Her face was a compilation of perfect angles, her skin as smooth and luminous as a pearl, her blue eyes the color of a morning glory, those lips so pink and soft. And then there was the blond hair that was down past her shoulders, and yeah, that figure, which was the kind of thing that knocked males on their asses—and kept ’em down.

On a regular basis, he couldn’t believe she was with him. Him. A guy from Southie, with a chipped front tooth, a bad background, and a host of addictions he hadn’t been able to master until he’d met her.

Plus there was all the Omega shit.

Yet his shellan loved him, for some completely unknown reason.

“You’re not talking to me,” he whispered, sweeping her hair back and stroking her neck, her tight shoulders, her stiff arms. “You know I hate it when I don’t know what’s doing.”

As a chorus of laughter broke out across the way, Marissa nestled in close, her hips coming into contact with all kinds of party time.

And what do you know, his erection was instant, his cock thickening up and getting long behind the fly of his leathers.

Putting her arms around his neck, she leaned in and eased her breasts into his chest. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Growling deep in his throat, he reached around and cupped her rear assets. A palmful on either side, nothing more, firm as a gymnast’s—oh, God, he was starting to sweat.

Except he shook his head. “This isn’t going to work. You’re not going to distract me—”

Next thing he knew, Marissa parted her mouth and exposed her fangs. Getting close, she ran one of the canines across his lower lip, the sensation of the sharp point moving over his flesh causing him to moan.

“You sound like you need something,” she whispered against his mouth. “Do you want to tell me what it is?” Her tongue extended and licked her way into him. “What is it, Butch. Tell me what you need…”

“You,” he groaned. “I need you.”

After his transition, when his body had bulked up and become this hulking thing of power, he’d gotten used to feats of physical strength—and also this resonant weakness when it came to his female and sex. He’d needed women from time to time back when he’d been strictly human, but that was nothing compared to the roaring lust Marissa could bring out of him at the drop of a hat. One look, one touch … a sentence or two … sometimes it was just the clean ocean scent of her …

Boom! Like someone blew up his brain.

“Marissa …”

Her pelvis rotated against his arousal and then she was stepping away from him. “Come here.”

She could have commanded him to do any number of things—“Stand on your head, shave your eyebrows, pull your own arm off”—and he would have done any of it in a heartbeat. Follow her? With the possibility of giving her an orgasm—or six?

Yes, please, thank you, ma’am, how may I be of service.

Marissa led him behind the bar and pushed him against the shelves of liquor bottles. With fast hands, she went for his fly, and God help him, he gripped the edge of the granite countertop and watched her undo the buttons one by one, the ridge of his erection pushing things open as she went down.

And then she gripped him.

“Fuuuuck…” His head wanted to fall back, but he needed to see her—

His whole body swayed as her hand stroked his shaft.

“Do you like to see me do this to you?” She worked him nice and slow, up and down. “Do you, Butch.”

“Yes,” he whispered, drawing out the word. “I like … to see … your hands on me…”

“What about my mouth?”

His balls tightened, and an orgasm shot into the head of his cock, ready to explode—and that was before she got on her knees in front of him, disappearing behind the cover of the bar’s front section.

He wasn’t going to last long, but fuck him, he wanted that sensation, that warm, wet pull, even if for just a second—no watching, though. He had to squeeze his eyes shut. If he saw what she looked like, her mouth stretched wide, her beautiful hair splaying over his leather-clad thighs, that blue stare of hers looking up at him as if she liked the taste of him …

Which, of course, couldn’t possibly be true. But that was one lie he wasn’t going to argue with—