Lover Revealed

a hard path. The young would need more operations as she grew, and going by the mother's exhausted eyes, the female knew this was just the beginning.

'I'm not scared.' The young tucked her tattered stuffed tiger in closer to her neck. 'Mastimon is coming with me. The nurse said he could.'

'Mastimon will protect you. He is fierce, as a tiger should be.'

'I told him not to eat anybody.'

'Wise of you.' Marissa reached into the skirting pocket of her pale pink gown and took out a leather box. 'I have something for you.'

'A present?'

'Yes.' Marissa turned the box to face the young and opened it. Inside, there was a gold plate about the size of a tea saucer, and the precious object was buffed to a high shine, all mirror bright, gleaming like sunshine.

'That's so pretty,' the child breathed.

'This is my wishing plate.' Marissa took it out and turned the thing over. 'Do you see my initial on the back?'

The young squinted. 'Yes. And look! There's a letter like as in my name.'

'I had yours added. I'd like you to have this.'

There was a little gasp from the mother in the corner. Clearly she knew what all that gold was worth.

'Really?' the young said.

'Hold your hands out.' Marissa put the gold disk in the girl's palms.

'Oh, it's so heavy.'

'Do you know how these wishing plates work?' When the young shook her head, Marissa took out a little piece of parchment and a fountain pen. 'Think of a wish and I'll write it down. While you sleep, the Scribe Virgin will come and read it.'

'If she doesn't give you your wish, does that mean you're bad?'

'Oh, no. It just means she has something better planned for you. So what would you like? It can be anything. Ice cream when you wake up. More Dora?'

The little female frowned in concentration. 'I want my mahmen to stop crying. She tries to pretend she doesn't, but ever since I… fell down the stairs she's been sad.'

Marissa swallowed, knowing full well the child hadn't broken her leg like that. 'I think that's fine. I'll write that down.'

Using the intricate characters of the Old Language, she penned in red ink: If it would not offend, I would be grateful for my mahmen's happiness.

'There. How is it?'

'Perfect!'

'Now we fold it and leave it. Perhaps the Scribe Virgin will reply to you while you are in the operating—the green room.'

The child hugged her tiger closer. 'I would like that.'

As a nurse came in, Marissa stood up. In a rush of heat, she felt a near-violent urge to protect the young, to shield her from what had happened at her home and what was about to happen in the OR.

Instead, Marissa looked at the mother. 'This is going to be fine.'

When she went over and put her hand on a thin shoulder, the mother shuddered, then gripped Marissa's palm hard.

'Tell me he can't get in here,' the female said in a low voice. 'If he finds us, he'll kill us.'

Marissa whispered, 'No one can get into the elevator without identifying themselves in front of a camera. The two of you are safe. I swear to it.'

When the female nodded, Marissa left so that the young could be sedated.

Outside the patient room, she leaned against the hallway wall and felt more heaving rage. The fact that those two were bearing the pain of a male's violent temper was enough to make her want to learn how to shoot a gun.

And God, she couldn't imagine setting that female and her young loose in the world because surely that hellren would find them when they left the clinic. Although most males put their mates higher than themselves, there had always been among the race a minority of abusers and the realities of domestic violence were ugly and far-reaching.

A door shutting to the left brought her head up, and she saw Havers come walking down the hall, his head buried in a patient chart. Odd… his shoes were covered with little yellow plastic booties, the kind he always put on when he donned a hazmat suit.

'Have you been in the lab again, brother mine?' she asked.

His eyes shot up from the chart and he pushed his hornrimmed glasses higher on his nose. His jaunty red bow tie was cocked at a bad angle. 'Come again?'

She nodded at his feet with a smile. 'The lab.'

'Ah… yes. I have.' He reached down and took the covers off his loafers, crushing the yellow plastic in his hand. 'Marissa, would you do me the favor of returning to the house? I've asked the Princeps Council leahdyre and seven other members to dinner on Monday next. The menu must be perfect and I would talk to Karolyn myself, but I'm due in the OR.'

'Of course.' Except then Marissa frowned, aware that her brother was still as a statue. 'Is everything all right?'

'Yes, thank you. Go… go now. Do… yes, please go now.'

She was tempted to pry, but she didn't want to keep him from the young's operation, so she kissed him on the cheek, straightened his bow tie, and walked away. When she reached the double doors that led into the reception area, though, something made her glance back.

Havers was stuffing what he'd been wearing on his feet into a biohazard bin, and his face was drawn into tight lines. With a deep breath, he braced himself, then pushed open the door to the surgical suite's anteroom.

Ah, she thought, so that's what it was. He was upset about operating on the young. And who could blame him?

Marissa turned back to the doors… then heard the boots.

She froze. Only one kind of male made that thunder when he approached.

Pivoting around, she saw Vishous striding down the hall, his dark head lowered, and behind him, Phury and Rhage were similar silent menaces. All three were dripping with weapons and weariness, and Vishous had dried blood on his leathers and his jacket. But why had they been in Havers's lab? That facility was the only thing back there, really.

The Brothers didn't notice her until they practically mowed her down. Coming to a stop as a group, their eyes quickly went elsewhere, no doubt because of her having fallen from Wrath's grace.

Dear Virgin, up close they looked truly awful. Sick, yet not unwell, if that made any sense.

'Is there anything I can do for you?' she asked.

'Everything's cool,' Vishous said in a hard voice. ' 'Scuse us.'

The dream… Butch lying in the snow … 'Is someone hurt? Is… Butch…'

Vishous just shrugged her off and stepped past her, punching open the doors into Reception. The other two offered stiff smiles, then did the same.

Following at a distance, she watched them walk by the nursing station to the access elevator. As they waited for the doors to open, Rhage reached out and put his hand on Vishous's shoulder, and the other Brother seemed to shudder.

The exchange made warning bells go off, and the instant the elevator doors closed Marissa headed for the wing of the clinic the three had originally come from. Moving quickly, she passed the sprawling, brilliantly lit lab, then put her head into the six older patient rooms. All of which were empty.

Why had the Brothers been here? Maybe just to talk to Havers?

On instinct, she went out to the front desk, logged on to the computer and scanned the admissions. Nothing about any of the Brothers or Butch came up, but that didn't mean a thing.

The warriors were never entered into the system, and she had to imagine it would be the same for Butch if he were in-house. What she was after was how many beds were occupied of the thirty-five they had.