Lover Revealed

Excellent tile work. You should check it.'

'How about I carry you back to bed?'

'I want to look at the sink pipes next.'

Respect and affection clearly drove V's cool smirk. 'At least let me help you up.'

'Nah, I can do it.' With a groan, Butch gave the vertical move a shot, but then eased back down onto the tile. Turned out lifting his head was a little overwhelming. But if they left him here long enough—a week, maybe ten days?

'Come on, cop. Cry uncle here and let me help.'

Butch was suddenly too tired to front. As he went totally limp, he was aware of Marissa staring at him and thought, man, could he look any weaker? Shit, the only saving grace was that there wasn't a cold breeze on his butt.

Which suggested the hospital gown had stayed closed. Thank you, God.

V's thick arms tunneled under him and then he was lifted easily. As they went forward, he refused to let his head rest on his friend's shoulder, even though it gave him the sweats to keep the thing upright. When he was back on the bed, shivers racked his whole body and the room spun.

Before V straightened, Butch grabbed the male's arm and whispered, 'I need to talk to you. Alone.'

'What's doing?' V said with equal quiet.

Butch looked over at Marissa, who was hovering in the corner.

With a flush, she glanced at the bathroom, then picked up two large paper bags. 'I think I'll take a shower. Will you excuse me?' She didn't wait for a response, just disappeared into the loo.

As the door shut, V sat on the edge of the bed. 'Talk to me.'

'What kind of danger is she in?'

'I've taken care of her and three days in, she seems fine. She can probably leave soon. We're all pretty convinced by now there's no cross-infection thing going on.'

'What's she been exposed to? What was I exposed to?'

'You know you were with the lessers, true?'

Butch lifted one of his busted-up hands. 'And here I thought I'd been to Elizabeth Arden.'

'Smart-ass. You were there about a day—'

Abruptly, he grabbed V's arm. 'I didn't crack. No matter what they did to me, I didn't say a thing about the Brotherhood. I swear.'

V put his hand over Butch's and squeezed. 'I know you didn't, my man. I know you wouldn't.'

'Good.'

As they both let go, V's eyes went to Butch's fingertips, as if he were imagining what had been done to them. 'What do you remember?'

'Only the feelings. The pain and the… dread. Fear. Pride… the pride is how I know I didn't squeal, how I know they didn't break me.'

V nodded and drew a hand-rolled out of his pocket. Just before he lit up, he looked at the oxygen feed, cursed, and put the cig back. 'Listen, buddy, I gotta ask… you okay in the head? I mean, going through something like that—'

'I'm cool. Always was too dumb to have PTSD or some shit, and besides, I've got no real memory of what went down. As long as Marissa can walk out of here okay, then, yeah, I'm fine.' He scrubbed his face, feeling the itch of his beard growth, dropped his arm. As his hand landed on his abdomen, he thought of the black wound. 'You have any idea what they did to me?'

When V shook his head, Butch cursed. The guy was like a walking Google link, so him not knowing was a bad thing.

'But I'm on it, cop. I will find an answer for you, I promise.' The brother nodded at Butch's stomach. 'So how's it look?'

'Don't know. Been too busy being in a coma to worry about my six-pack.'

'Mind if I?'

Butch shrugged and pushed the covers down. As V lifted up the hospital johnny, they both looked down at his belly. The skin was not right around the wound, all gray and puckered.

'Does it hurt?' V asked.

'Like a mother. Feels… cold. Like there's dry ice in my gut.'

'Will you let me do something?'

'What?'

'Just a little healing thing I've been throwing at you.'

'Sure.' Except that when V brought up his business hand and started talking off that glove, Butch recoiled. 'What are you going to do with that thing?'

'Trust me, true?'

Butch barked a laugh. 'Last time you said that I ended up with a vampire cocktail, remember?'

'Saved your ass. That's how I found you.'

So that had been the why of it. 'Well, then, fly me some of that hand.'

Still, as V put the glowing thing close, Butch winced. 'Relax, cop. This isn't going to hurt.'

'I've seen you toast a house with that bastard.'

'Point taken. But the Firestarter routine isn't going down here.'

V hovered his tattooed, glowing hand over the wound, and Butch let out a ragged groan of relief. It was as if warm, fresh water was pouring into the wound, then flowing over him, through him. Cleaning him out.

Butch's eyes rolled back in his head. 'Oh… God… that feels good.'

He went limp, and then he was floating, free of the pain, sliding into some kind of dream state. He let his body go, let himself go.

He could actually feel the healing, as if his body's regenerative processes had kicked into high gear. As seconds passed, as minutes went by, as time drifted into the infinite, he felt like whole days of rest and eating well and being at peace were coming and going, leapfrogging him from the battered state he was in back to the — miraculous gift of health.

Marissa tilted her head back and stood right under the showerhead, letting the water fall down her body. She felt shaken loose and thin-skinned, especially after watching Vishous carry Butch to the bed. The two of them were so close, the mutual bond clear in the way their eyes met and held.

After a long while, she got out, toweled herself off roughly, then blew her hair dry. As she reached for a fresh set of undergarments, she looked at the corset and thought, the hell she was putting that on. She shoved it back into a bag, unable to bear having that iron grip around her rib cage right now.

As she put her peach gown on over her naked breasts, it felt strange, but she'd had it with being uncomfortable. At least for a little while. Besides, who would know?

She folded up the pale blue Rodriguez and put it into a bio-hazard bag along with her old underwear. Then she braced herself and opened the door out into the patient room.

Butch was sprawled on the bed, the hospital gown pushed up onto his chest, the sheets down around his hips. Vishous's glowing hand was resting about three inches above the blackened wound.

In the silence between the two males, she was an intruder. With nowhere to go.

'He's asleep,' V grunted.

She cleared her throat, but couldn't think of anything to say. After a long silence, she finally murmured, 'Tell me… does his family know what's happened?'

'Yeah. The Brotherhood all know.'

'No, I mean… his human family.'

'They are irrelevant.'

'But shouldn't they be—'

V looked up with impatience, his diamond eyes hard and a little mean. For some reason, it occurred to her now just how fully armed he was with his black daggers crossing his thick chest.

Then again, his sharp expression went with the weapon.

'Butch's 'family' doesn't want him.' V's voice was strident, as if the explanation were none of her business