I sucker punched her—no warning, no hesitation. Marla’s head snapped to the side, her knees buckled, and she lost consciousness before she even hit the floor. Gasps came from the little group at her back. As one, they lunged for me. So my squad and I lunged for them.
It was amazing how quickly a bar fight could escalate. None of us used our vampiric gifts. No, this was a true catfight. There was scratching. Punching. Kicking. Screeching. Slapping. Hair-pulling. And dress-shredding.
All the while, male vampires surrounded us, cheering ‘Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!’
It was a great outlet for my anger and actually kind of fun…until my earring was ripped out. Motherfucker. Snarling, I fisted my hand in the bitch’s hair and—
A strong arm curled around my waist and started heaving me away. I knew who it was, because I’d know that masculine scent of dark spices and sandalwood anywhere.
“Put me down, Butch!”
He didn’t, but I kept a firm grip on the long dark hair in my hands—I wasn’t letting go of my prize any time soon. My girls didn’t look any more willing to end the fight than I was, which was why it took the combined efforts of the Grand High Pair’s personal squad to part us all.
Still, I managed to take a chunk of dark hair with me. Smirking, I showed it to the heifer. She waved a hand my way, and it was like something slammed into my head, through my skull…and then I was seriously freaking tired.
“Fuck,” cursed Butch.
Then it all went dark.
CHAPTER TWO
(Imani)
I’d woken up in this bed before. Several times before, in fact. But this time, I wasn’t naked. That was the only reason I wasn’t silently cursing myself.
I slowly turned my head. And there he was. Sharp-boned face. Five o’clock shadow. Sleep-tussled bronze hair. Solid chest and delicious abs. I didn’t need to look beneath the covers to know the rest of Robert ‘Butch’ Richardson was just as spectacularly masculine. Asleep, he looked no more peaceful than he did while awake. There was something untamed about him. A buzz of raw energy seemed to always hum beneath his skin.
The first night we’d slept together had been the night of Ava and Salem’s Binding ceremony a year ago; a one-night stand that had turned into a month of several wild and unforgettable one-night stands. I’d hoped it would turn into something more, but Butch had made it clear—though not in an asshole way—that he didn’t do ‘more.’ So I’d cut my losses. I wanted something that had possibilities; that had the potential to go somewhere. Anything with Butch was a dead end.
It wasn’t that he had commitment issues. He just didn’t connect with people. Furthermore, he didn’t want to connect with people. Despite having known him for over a year, I didn’t know him at all. He never revealed anything personal. Never shared anything about his past. Never confided his feelings or thoughts. He was literally a closed book.
I didn’t judge him for it. It wasn’t wrong that he didn’t want to connect with others or that he didn’t do ‘more.’ It just meant he couldn’t give me what I wanted. That didn’t mean it was easy to walk away. No. But I’d done it. I’d moved on. I’d even found someone else—a human I’d dated right up until a month ago.
Dean was nothing like Butch. He was relaxing, fun, and safe—or, at least, he had been until he betrayed me. Butch was far from a relaxing presence. He had a way of unnerving people. And he definitely wasn’t ‘safe.’ Many called him sociopathic and a natural born killer.
Sam—the female half of the Grand High Pair—had once remarked, ‘I can’t help but be fascinated by how Butch can stand there plotting someone’s death while looking cool and calm, like we’re strolling in the park.’
It was true. Butch’s air of downright coolness went to a whole new level. But I liked that about him. I liked his air of self-assuredness. Liked how at ease he was in his own skin. Liked how daring and determined he could be. Hell, I just plain liked him.
I wasn’t the only one.
Many females flocked around him. I loathed them all on principle, especially Marla, the Kindle-killer. Butch wasn’t a slut, but he was no choir boy either. Honestly, I’d probably find him boring if he was.
Despite how much I liked him, I’d walked out eleven months ago, swearing to myself that I wouldn’t return. Yet, here I was again in his bed. Only, I hadn’t made my own way here.
I recalled the catfight, recalled struggling against Butch’s grip and then…suddenly I was tired. Obviously the female’s vampiric gift had been to induce sleep.