Blood Kiss - Ward J. R. (книги онлайн полностью txt) 📗

“What happened to you?” Paradise whispered.

Novo shook herself back into focus. “Nothing that matters anymore. We’re heading to the weight room, right?”

“Did they say that?”

“Yeah.”

Paradise must have been watching Craeg walk out of the classroom. “I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re okay. Splash your face with some cold water. It’ll bring you back—works for me all the time.”

Paradise watched the female leave … and then she cranked on the faucet that was marked with a C.

Might as well give it a go.

Maybe it would cool off her libido, too.

Chapter Twenty-four

Sitting at the desk in Tohr’s office, Butch stood the long, thin metal key up on the end that had the red tassel … and let the thing fall to the blotter. As gravity made it tap out, the sound was a solid thunk. With a curse, he picked it up, stood it on its other end … and let it fall. And again. And again—

“Are you ready?”

He looked up at Tohr, who’d leaned in through the glass door. “Hey, yeah, sure. Who’re you sending in first?”

“Axwelle. Figured you might as well start the eval with the one most likely to be considered a sociopath.”

“Perfect.” He swiveled to the computer, tapped in a few commands and got the hidden video camera rolling. “Pull him out of the workout.”

“Roger that.”

As the glass door eased shut, Butch watched his fingers work the tasseled key some more. He hadn’t wanted to say it to his Marissa, but to him and V, it was pretty clear what the thing was. The problem? When nada had come up on the Internet search, V had hit his connections in the vampire underground … but nothing had surfaced with any of the sex clubs or groups.

A key to get you in so you could get it on. So to speak.

Ordinarily, Butch would have wondered if people weren’t hiding something or lying, but V was a legit member of the wonderful world of kink—plus the brother wasn’t above using a little muscle to get information if he had to.

Yet another reason the two of them were tight.

So what else was it. Where else could he—

At the sound of a knock on the glass, he glanced up and motioned with his hand. “Hey, man. C’mon in, sit down.”

As Axwelle entered, the guy made a move with his hands like he was used to cramming them in the pockets of his jeans, but then had nowhere to go with the impulse in his training uni. “Can I stand?”

“Nope.” Butch nodded to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “There. And that is not a suggestion, that’s a requirement.”

They had to make sure the trainee’s face was in full view of the lens up in the corner behind him.

Axwelle—or Axe, as he called himself—crossed his arms over his chest and planted it in the seat. “What’s this about?”

“Just want to talk to you for a little bit. Get to know you better.” Butch frowned and sat forward. Then he dangled the key by its red tassel. “You recognize this?”

“No.”

“Then why did your eyes just go to it?”

“Because it’s in your hand and you’re not holding anything else. There’s nothing on the desk, either.”

Butch held the tassel between his thumb and forefinger and let the thing swing from side to side. “That’s the only reason, huh.”

“Do I look like I worry about keys?”

“How do you know it’s a key?”

Eyes that were nearly as yellow as Phury’s locked on him and stayed put. “What else could it be?”

“You tell me.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a get-to-know-ya. What the fuck does some whatever-it-is have to do with my ass?”

Butch studied the kid’s face, looking for tells. Huh. You know, without the half-job tattoos and piercings, the guy might have been handsome. And he might well be a good poker player, considering all the mask-in-place he was rolling.

Axe put his puss just inches from the key. “I’m still staring at it. Is this working for you?”

Butch took his own sweet time before changing subjects. The thing with liars? Silence and stillness were often the best challenge to their fronts, and he looked for tics, blinks, and twitches.

Eventually, he smiled. “You ever see someone die?”

Not on the list of questions Mary had given him to help her ascertain a trainee’s psychological state. But he was good with winging shit.

“What are you suggesting?”

The thought of his Marissa crying over that dead female made him more aggressive than a bull, but he drew back on that throttle.

“Just asking.” He looked at the key to give the male some “personal space.” “It is one way to get to know you better, isn’t it? An icebreaker, they call them, when two people go on a blind date and have to make conversation.”

“You want to know if I’ve ever killed anybody.”

“Not the question, was it. I asked, have you ever seen death happen?”

When there was no answer for a period of time, Butch glanced up. Axe wasn’t looking at the key anymore. The guy was focused on the middle distance in front of his nose.

Gotcha, Butch thought.

Gentling his voice deliberately, he murmured, “Who was it, Axwelle.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why, it’s your name.”

“I don’t answer to it.”

“Why.”

An angry glare went point-blank on Butch like a gun muzzle. “Because I fucking don’t, okay?”

“Fine, back to the Grim Reaper. Tell me the story.”

“Fuck you.”

Under any other circumstances, Butch would have lunged across the desk and grabbed the cocksucker’s neck for that kind of attitude, but there was too much purpose behind this.

“Hmmmmm,” was all he said.

Axe slammed himself back in the chair and did the re-cross thing with his arms. As his shoulders bunched up, it was hard not to approve of the heft of all that muscle. Strength without brains and a copious lack of psychotic, however, were going to do none of them any good.

“Can I go now?” Axe demanded.

“No, son, I don’t think you can. And before you get all huffy on my ass, I’m going to point out to you that this wonderful little bonding time we’re sharing is the first of at least three sessions.”

“Are you a shrink?”

“Fuck, no, are you kidding me?” He laughed. “I take pride in my own little stretch of madness, as a matter of fact.”

After all, he was seriously religious, putting his faith and the course of his life willingly in the hands of a belief system that was not concretely verifiable. And that was nuts, right?

Then again, the fact that his religion enriched his mortal coil and centered him and brought him meaning even after he had been “turned” into another species was enough proof for him.

With a shrug, he said, “The only way to get out of this office is to tell me what happened. As soon as you do, you’re free to go back to the weight room and power-lift until either your knees give out on you or you begin to vomit. So much to look forward to, right?”

If Craeg had thought that sitting behind Paradise in class was bad? That was nothing compared to watching her do pull-ups.

Across the mats, and to the accompaniment of the clanking of free weights, Paradise was lifting her body in perfect form up to the chin bar and then releasing … and up … and releasing. Her knees were cocked parallel to the floor, her ass was … painfully tight (for him, not for her, clearly), and her torso was in control from pelvis to shoulder.

Every time she hit the low point, her breasts punched up against the loose shirt they all wore—

“Fuck,” he groused as he lay back down on the bench and gripped the bar above his head.

Popping the four hundred and fifty pounds off its support, he took the weight down to his pecs and shoved it back up like the thing had insulted his dead mother.

“You want a spotter?” Novo asked.

When all he could do was grunt, she assumed the position behind his head, keeping her hands just under the now-bent bar.