Lover Revealed

blade slicing down.

As the spark and sizzle faded, Butch's arms fell limp against the asphalt. Then he rolled over onto his side and curled in on himself, arms linking tight against his stomach. His gut was killing him, but more to the point, he felt nauseous as shit, a nasty echo of what he'd struggled with when he'd been at his sickest.

A pair of shitkickers came into his line of sight, but he couldn't bear to look up and see either one of the brothers. He didn't know what the hell he had done or what had happened.

All he knew was that he and the lessers were kin.

V's voice was as thin as Butch's skin. 'Are you okay?' Butch squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. 'Think it's best… that you get me out of here. And don't you dare take me home.'

Vishous unlocked his penthouse and muscled Butch inside while Rhage held the door open. The three of them had taken the cargo elevator up the back of the building, which made sense. The cop was a dead load, weighing more than he looked like he did, as if the pull of gravity had singled him out for special attention.

They laid the cop flat on the bed and he eased over onto his side, bringing his knees up until they hit his chest.

There was a long stretch of silence, during which Butch seemed to pass out.

Like he was walking off anxiety, Rhage started pacing around, and shit, after that showdown, V was all up in his head, too. He lit up and inhaled hard.

Hollywood cleared his throat. 'So, V… this is where you go with the females, huh.' The brother went over and fingered a pair of chains bolted into the black wall. 'We heard stories, of course. Guess they're all true.'

'Whatever.' V headed to his bar and poured a long/tall of Grey Goose. 'We've got to hit those lessers' houses tonight.'

Rhage nodded toward the bed. 'What about him?'

Miracle of miracles, the cop lifted his head. 'I'm not going anywhere right now. Trust me.'

V narrowed his eyes on his roommate. Butch's face, which normally got all Irish ruddy if he exerted himself, was utterly blushless. And he smelled… faintly sweet. Like baby powder.

Jesus Christ. It was like being around those slayers had brought out something else in him—something Omega in him.

'V?' Rhage's voice was soft. Real close. 'You want to stay here? Or maybe take him back to Havers?'

'I'm fine,' Butch croaked.

A lie on so many levels, V thought.

He polished off his vodka and looked at Rhage. 'I'm coming with you. Cop, we'll be back and I'll bring food, true?'

'No. No food. And don't come back tonight. Just lock me in so I can't get out and leave me.'

Fuck. 'Cop, if you hang yourself in the bathroom, I swear I will kill you all over again, ya herd me?'

Dull hazels opened up. 'I want to know what was done to me more than I want to off my ass. So don't worry.'

Butch squeezed his lids shut again and after a moment, Vishous and Rhage walked out to the balcony. As V locked the doors, he realized he was more worried about keeping Butch inside than protecting the guy.

'Where we going?' he asked Rhage. Even though he was usually the one with the plans.

'First wallet has an address of Four five nine Wichita Street, Apartment C-four.'

'Let's hit it.'

Chapter Fourteen

When Marissa opened the door to her bedroom, she felt like an intruder in her own space: A wiped-out, heartbroken, lost… stranger.

Looking around aimlessly, she thought, God, it was such a pretty white room, wasn't it? With its big canopied bed and its chaise lounge and antique dressers and side tables. Everything was so feminine, except for the art on the walls. Her collection of Albrecht Diirer woodcuts didn't match the rest of the decor, those stark lines and hard edges more fitting to a male's eyes and a male's things.

Except that the images spoke to her.

As she went over to look at one, she had a passing thought that Havers had always disapproved of them. He'd thought that Maxfield Parrish paintings of romantic, dreamy scenes were more appropriate for a female Princeps.

They never had agreed on art, had they? But he'd bought the woodcuts for her anyway because she'd loved them.

Forcing herself into action, she closed her door and went for the shower. She had little time before the regularly scheduled Princeps Council meeting tonight, and Havers always liked to arrive early.

As she stepped under the water, she thought how strange life was. When she'd been with Butch in that quarantine room, she'd forgotten all about the council and the glymera and… everything. But now, he was gone and it was all back to normal.

The return struck her as tragic.

After blowing her hair dry, she dressed in a teal Yves St. Laurent gown from the 1960s, then went to her jewelry cabinet and chose an important suite of diamonds. The stones were heavy and cold around her neck, the earrings weighty on her lobes, the bracelet a lock on her wrist. As she stared at the flashing gems, she thought that females in the aristocracy were really just display mannequins for their family's wealth, weren't they.

Especially at Princeps Council meetings.

Going downstairs, she dreaded seeing Havers, but figured it would be good to get it over with. He wasn't in his study, so she headed for the kitchen, thinking he might be having a bite to eat before they left. Just as she was pushing her way into the butler's pantry she saw Karolyn coming out of the door to the basement. The doggen was carrying a heavy load of collapsed cardboard boxes.

'Here, let me help you,' Marissa said, rushing forward.

'No, thank you… mistress.' The servant flushed and looked away, but that was the way of the doggen. They hated accepting aid from those they served.

Marissa smiled gently. 'You must be packing up the library for its new paint job. Oh! Which reminds me. I'm late right now, but we do need to talk about tomorrow evening's dinner menu.'

Karolyn bowed very low. 'Forgive me, but master indicated the party with the princeps leahdyre was canceled.'

'When did he say this?'

'Just now, before he left for the Council.'

'He's gone already?' Maybe he assumed she would want to rest. 'I'd better hurry off then—Karolyn, are you all right? You don't look well.'

The doggen bowed so deeply the boxes brushed the floor. 'I am well, indeed, mistress. Thank you.'

Marissa raced out of the house and dematerialized to the Tudor home of the current council leahdyre. As she knocked, she hoped Havers had cooled down. She could understand his anger considering what he'd walked in on, but he didn't have a thing to worry about. It wasn't like Butch was in her life or anything.

God, she felt like throwing up every time she thought about that.

She was let in by a doggen and shown to the library. As she walked into the meeting, none of the nineteen at the polished table acknowledged her presence. This was not unusual. What was different was that her brother did not lift his eyes. Nor was there even a seat saved for her on his right. Nor did he even come around and settle her in her chair.

Havers had not cooled down. Not in the slightest.

Well, no matter, she would talk to him after the meeting. Calm him. Reassure him, though it killed her, because she could have used some support from him right now.