'THEY CAN’T HURT YOU NOW”, EXCERPT



"THEY CAN’T HURT YOU NOW”, EXCERPT

There were the nights in which Butch O'Neal almost regretted having cut smoking and this was one of them. At least, he would have a way of occupying his hands and to fake it was calming him.

“Where the hell’s Vishous?” Rhage leant towards Butch, speaking into his ear to be heard over The Cure. Probably, the blond Brother was the only client in the whole damned IronMask who could sip a pineapple’s juice without anybody laughing his head off of him.

Butch gripped his Lagavulin's short glass with both hands to prevent his fingers from drumming like his fucking right foot was doing under the unofficial Brotherhood’s table in the pub. He had a frown on his face, but shrugged, pretending he wasn’t worried.

“He has to be looking after John. The boy had a good bullet’s hole in his leg”.

“’Course…” Hollywood took the straw to his mouth and sipped the juice, without buying it. The blond warrior looked askance at him, smiled and then pretended, sucking the stupid juice as if it was the elixir of the eternal life.

Butch almost knotted his eyebrows while he looked at the whiskey waves at the bottom of the glass. He knew very fucking well what Rhage was trying not to laugh at. Only that he didn’t think it was funny at all.

If he had to grade the night, he would give it a 6. The Brotherhood had done a spring-cleaning in that farm with a massive fight, all of them against all the new induced lessers and none of those dogs have run away. Yes, Qhuinn had taken away John Matthew with a shot in the leg, along with Xhex.

Xhex.

He shifted on the sit and ended his Lag on one gulp. His affaire with that female had been a one-shot thing, tough, and, if he had to put and adjective to it, sad. At least for his part. It had been in ZeroSum's toilets, back when he was still sighing for Marissa. Before he was mated with Vishous and before Xhex was - more or less – John’s female. Only a night of mutual company, nothing more.

Clearly, V didn't see it the same way.

Since that female had arrived to the house, V had been royally pissed off and, that, considering that he was speaking about V -the guy wasn't usually a candy-, said a lot. His male spent whole days closed mouthed, pursing his lips, smoking like a freakin' chimney and keeping everybody -including him- at an arm's length. And tonight things had been about to get out of hand for the slightest silly thing. For an ill-timed remark. Xhex didn't bite her tongue and the two had been about to go for each other's throats just outside the lessers farm that they had to discretely assault.

After that, he had inhaled more lessers than he could remember. V had cleansed him there, in one of the farm's shitty sofas. They had been embraced head to foot awhile, as always, but there was something different in the air: Vishous had been stiff, self-controlled, as if he was about to explode even if Butch could hear his heart pounding like a rabbit's. He had managed to open one eye and, through V's light, he had seen Xhex looking at them with that "now I get it" expression on her face. And Vishous had tightened his arms around him without saying a word.

Later, when they had returned to the mansion, he had take a shower to clean all the metaphorical shit from his body and, when he had exited the bathroom, Vishous was no longer in the Pit. He had cleared off without telling him where. Rhage had come to fetch him and have some drinks and there were they now, Hollywood humming like a magpie and he with his fucking nerves in shreds.

Because, deep down, he knew exactly what was wrong with Vishous, but the bastard didn't let him get near him or explained himself. Typical in V. The more upset he was with something, the more distance he put with others. And he could only be dragged back by force.

Butch looked up his watch. Fucking 3 AM and the asshole hadn't even said "Hi". He hit the table with his glass, freaking out Rhage. OK, end of it.

"Hey, Hollywood, mind if we clear off? I'm going to look for V".

"Do you know where he is?". Rhage sucked the straw and left it in the glass before getting up.

"You bet".

Butch couldn't track Vishous' blood because he wasn't a 100% vampire, but it wasn't damn necessary. There was only one place where V could flee when he wanted to keep the world at distance.

"I'll take you". Rhage got out the GTO keys and toss them.

Butch left the IronMask with clenched jaws. In other couples all around the world, when someone got jealous, they would talk about it, have a candlelight romantic dinner and a fantastic fuck with a lot of kissing to soothe fears.

Not with Vishous.

Fuck him, he had won the freakiest male on Earth as his mate.

OOO

Sometimes he got tired of being the freak. Seriously.

Because it was getting tiresome to be the one asshole in the world unable to explain to his mate what was grating his nerves, making him feel like a werewolf under the full moon. But, would you believe it, he couldn't get to open his mouth and spill it all to Butch. The pressure cooker that was his brain had been about to explode tonight and he had had to make himself scarce. After stitching John, he had split to the only place he could feel it was his. And his alone.

He gazed at the starry sky through the glass doors of his penthouse in the Commodore, with his back against the bar, and he sipped his Goose slowly, turning the glass in his hands.

Fucked be his damned personality. That cold and hard core of his had allowed him to carry on his life for more than three centuries and now was killing him. Out in the world V had known it was a damned suicide to admit that you loved your mate so much that your reasoning faded to black just because a one night fuck had showed up.

He finished the vodka on one gulp.

He was jealous. Insanely, homicidal and stupidly jealous about what Xhex had done with Butch. Yeah, true. It had been only a ball back when his cop was crazy about Marissa, not even about him. Nothing more.

But nonetheless he was jealous. Bring charges against me for that.

And, that was the final blow, he was scared. Oh, yes, Mighty Vishous was afraid. Because Butch had always had a hetero DNA until the miracle had worked and the cop had fallen in love with him. But what if...? What if now that Xhex had shown up he remembered the charms of pussies and tits? He didn't fear that Butch could fall for Xhex, no. What he feared was that that female could make Butch long for women again, that she could erase the only exception in the cop's natural tendencies: him. Maybe Butch would remember Marissa's softness again and...

"Shitty me". Vishous turned around and poured himself another drink. He would end up drinking the whole bottle.

And why was he so fucking irrationally jealous about Xhex, about females in general and scared as a kitten in a storm just thinking that Butch could reconsider his tastes?

Because he loved him.

Plas. Another half glass on a gulp.

Because Butch was the only person in the world he loved, for whom he would give his own life, what he deeply trusted, for whom he would endure everything and who he couldn’t, couldn’t, bear to loss.

It was a shit to discover how much vulnerable you have turned when faced with a mere “what if…?”

And it was an even bigger shit to be a useless moron, unable to say to your mate: “I love you, I can’t stand the idea of losing you and I need you to show me that you still want me to be yours”. Such a weepy drama.

Vishous sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, pissed off as hell and tired to live in his own skin. He wanted to tell him, for sure… but he couldn’t. He glanced his penthouse, with the masks, crops, handcuffs, the rack and the black candles. A lot of hardcore décor saying out loud, “I’m the Dom”.

Deep inside? He was just an idiot that couldn’t reward Butch’s trust by telling him the truth. Jesus, he deserved to be chained to his rack and be forced to submit until he spilled his guts.

V trembled with a silent shiver that increased his inner heat in that summer night and he felt like punching himself for his thoughts direction. Butch wasn’t into BDSM, never will be. They had shared some playful moments with handcuffs and it couldn’t be denied that their sex used to have an aggressive point, a fighting for dominance. But that was all.

Since they had mated, half a year ago, his penthouse had gone moldy. V wasn’t missing his anonymous sessions with his subs. He didn’t even think about them. But there was something unresolved in his relationship with Butch. A need that he couldn’t name but that was real, feeding his bad temper fire with another log.

Shitty fucking night.

He was about to turn to the bathroom when he heard footsteps out in the landing. They were strong, from a pair of boots, and they stopped just before his door. Then he heard the sound of a key in the lock.

Butch.

Damned cop, he always knew where to find him when he didn’t want to be found. It was his fault, of course, for giving him a copy of the penthouse key. Vishous made up is usual “I won’t confess even with torture” expression before turning to Butch.

The cop was standing on the threshold, frowning. He was still on his leathers but V knew he had taken a shower; Butch always showered after a lessers’ dinner. The cop closed the door and put the key in his trench coat pocket.

“Hiding in your hole, aren’t you?”

“I’m not hiding –you’re lyiiiiiiiiiiing-. Too many thinking brains around me”, he pointed to his temple. “I need silence, you know”.

Judging by Butch’s face, the cop knew what was truly in his mind and that pissed him off even more. He was looking at the bar and then to the bathroom door, figuring out his escaping route, when Butch approached him, stuck both hands on the black bar and stared at him from below his eyebrows.

“Let it out”, he barked.

“What exactly?” Why did he have that déjà-vu feeling?

“Whatever shit you’re keeping to yourself since days ago. Why you’ve lose your temper like a fucking lunatic tonight”, his cop’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, V?”

“Nothing. I’m in a foul mood. I’m an asshole. Told you”. He ended the telegraphic report and started walking towards the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower”.

“Not gonna move from here until you speak to me”

Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! That was the original soundtrack of Butch being a pig-headed. A bellow.

“Then make yourself home”. Vishous took in the whole Dungeons&Dragons décor with his arms before entering the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

He. Wasn’t. Going. To. Talk.

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