at
Havers's clinic on quarantine. A video camera was set up in the corner of the hospital room, and
V had caught the two of them on a computer monitor: she dressed in a vibrant peach gown, he in
a hospital John. They'd had been kissing long and hot, their bodies straining for sex.
V had watched with his heart in his throat as Butch had rolled over and mounted her, his John
breaking open to reveal his shoulders and his back and his hips. While he'd started in with a
rhythm, his spine had flexed and released as her hands slid onto his ass and her nails dug in.
It had been beautiful, the two of them together. Nothing like the sex with hard edges V had had
all his life. There had been love and intimacy and… kindness.
Vishous let his body fall loose and slap back onto the mattress, his glass tipping until it almost
spilled as he lay out. God, he wondered what it would be like to have that sort of sex. Would he
even like it? Maybe it would get claustrophobic. He wasn't sure he'd be into someone with their
hands all over him, and he couldn't imagine being fully naked.
Except then he thought of Butch and decided it probably just depended on who you were with.
V covered his face with his good hand, wishing like hell his feelings would go away. He hated
himself for these thoughts, for this attachment, for his useless pining, and the familiar litany of
shame brought on a whitewash of fatigue. As bone-deep exhaustion Tom Sawyer'ed him from
head to foot, he fought the wave, knowing it was dangerous.
This time he didn't win. Didn't even get a vote. His eyes slammed shut even as fear licked up his
spine and left his skin in a quilt of goose bumps.
Oh… shit. He was falling asleep…
Panicked, he tried to open his lids, but it was too late. They had become masonry walls. The
vortex had him and he was being sucked down no matter how much he tried to pull himself free.
His grip loosened on the glass in his hand and he dimly heard the thing hit the floor and splinter.
His last thought was that he was just like that tumbler of vodka, shattering and spilling, unable to
hold himself inside anymore.
Chapter Three
A couple of blocks to the west, Phury picked up his martini and eased back into a leather
banquette at ZeroSum. He and Butch had been pretty quiet since landing at the club about a half
hour ago, the two of them just doing the people-watching thing from the Brotherhood's table.
God knew there was plenty to see around here.
On the other side of a waterfall wall, the club's dance floor was tweaking with techno music as
humans rode waves of Ecstasy and coke and did dirty deeds in designer clothes. The
Brotherhood never hung on the general-pop side, though. Their little slice of real estate was in
the VIP section, a table all the way in the back next to the fire escape. The club was a good spot
to R & R. People left them alone, the booze was top-drawer, and it was smack-dab in downtown,
where the Brotherhood did most of their hunting.
Plus it was owned by a relative, now that Bella and Z were mated. Rehvenge, the male who ran
it, was her brother.
Also happened to be Phury's drug dealer, too.
He took a good long one from the rim of his shaken-not-stirred. He was so going to have make
another buy tonight. His stash was weighing low again.
A blond woman shimmied past the table, her breasts bobbing like apples under silver sequins,
her postage-stamp skirt flashing her ass cheeks and her lame thong. The getup made her look like
something more than just half-naked.
Dirty was maybe the word he was looking for.
She was typical. Most of the human females in the VIP section were within an inch of getting
arrested for indecent exposure, but then, the ladies tended to be either professionals or the
civilian equivalent of whores. As the prostitute hit the next banquette over, for a split second he
wondered what it would be like to buy some time with someone like her.
He'd been celibate for so long, it seemed totally off the page even to think like that, much less
follow through on the idea. But maybe it would help him get Bella out of his mind.
«See something you like?» Butch drawled.
«I don't know what you're talking about.»
«Oh? You mean you haven't noticed that blonde who just flashed by here? Or the way she was
checking you?»
«She's not my type.»
«Then look for a long-haired brunette.»
«Whatever.» As
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