Butch didn't move for the whole trip to the compound. In fact, it wasn't until V carried the guy into the Pit and laid him out on his bed that the cop opened his eyes.
'Room's spinning.'
'I'll bet.'
'Face hurts.'
'Wait 'til you see it and you'll know why.'
Butch closed his lids. 'Thanks for bringing me home.'
Vishous was about to help the guy out of his suit when the doorbell rang.
With a curse, he went to the front of the gatehouse and checked the security monitors at his desk. He wasn't surprised at who it was, but holy hell, Butch was not ready for prime-time viewing right now.
V stepped into the vestibule and shut the door behind him before opening the outer one. As Marissa looked up at him, he could smell the sadness and the worry coming off her, the scent like dried roses.
Her voice was low. 'I saw the Escalade pull up, so I know he's home now. I need to see him.'
'Not tonight you don't. Come back tomorrow.'
Her face hardened until it was like a marble depiction of her beauty. 'I'm not leaving until he tells me to go.'
'Marissa—'
Her eyes flashed. 'Not until he tells me himself, warrior.'
V measured her resolve and found she was packing with nothing lacking—kind of like that muscled head of security back at the club, just without the knuckles.
Well, wasn't this the night for female hard-asses.
V shook his head. 'At least let me get him cleaned up, okay?'
Her eyes flared with panic. 'Why would you have to?'
'Christ, Marissa. What did you think was going to happen when you fed from Rehvenge?'
Her mouth dropped open. 'How did you know—'
'Butch went after him at the club.'
'
V threw his hands up and muttered, 'Fuck,' as he opened the door.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Marissa marched past Vishous, and the Brother got out of her way. Which proved he was as smart as his reputation held.
When she got to the doorway of Butch's room, she stopped. From the glow of the hall light, she saw him lying on the bed on his back. His suit was all out of joint and there was blood on his shirt. Blood on his face, too.
She walked over and had to cover her mouth with her hand. 'Dear Virgin in the Fade…'
One of his eyes was swollen and going black and blue again, and there was a cut on the bridge of his nose, which explained the blood. And he smelled like fresh Scotch.
From the doorway, Vishous's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. 'You should really come back tomorrow. He's going to be pissed as hell that you saw him like this.'
'Exactly who did this to him? And so help me God, if you say it was just a quick fight, I'm going to scream.'
'Like I said, he went after Rehvenge. And Rehv happens to have a lot of bodyguards.'
'Those must be big males,' she said numbly.
'Actually, the one who nailed him was a female.'
'A female?' Oh, why the hell did the particulars matter. 'Can you bring me a couple of towels and some hot soapy water?' She went to Butch's feet and pulled off his shoes. 'I want to wash him.'
After V walked down the hall, she stripped Butch down to his boxers then sat beside him. The heavy gold cross that lay on his chest was a surprise. In the earlier frenzy up in the sitting room, she hadn't paid much attention to the thing, but now she wondered where he'd gotten it.
She looked farther down, to the black scar on his belly. Which seemed no better, no worse.
When V showed up with a bowl of suds and a short stack of terry cloth, she said, 'Put it all on this table where I can reach it, then leave us, please. And shut the door behind you.'
There was a pause. Which made sense. You didn't order around a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood anywhere, much less in his own house. But her nerves were shot and her heart was breaking and she really didn't care what anyone thought of her.
It was her rule number one in action.
After a silent stretch, the things were placed where she wanted them and then the door clicked shut. Taking a deep breath, she wet one of the washcloths. As she touched Butch's face with it, he winced and muttered something.
'I'm so sorry, Butch… but it's over now.' She returned the washcloth to the bowl, submerging it, then squeezing the excess water out. The dripping seemed very loud. 'And nothing happened other than the feeding, I swear.'
She got the blood off his face then stroked his hair, the thick waves damp from the washing. In response, he stirred and turned his face into her hand, but it was obvious he was dead drunk and not coming around.
'Are you going to believe me?' she whispered.
At any rate, she had proof. When she came to him a newling, he would know no other male had—
'I can smell him on you.'
She jerked back at the harsh sound of his voice.
Butch's eyes opened slowly and they seemed black, not hazel. 'I can smell him all over you. Because it wasn't from the wrist.'
She didn't know how to respond. Especially as he focused on her mouth and said, 'I saw the marks on his throat. And your scent was all over him, too.'
When Butch reached out, she flinched. But all he did was stroke her cheek with his forefinger, light as a sigh.
'How long did it take?' he asked.
She stayed silent, instinct telling her the less he knew the better.
As he took his hand back, his face was hard and weary. Emotionless. 'I believe you. About the sex.'
'You don't look as if you do.'
'Sorry, I'm a little distracted. I'm trying to convince myself I'm okay with tonight.'
She looked down at her hands. 'It felt all wrong to me, too. I cried the whole time.'
Butch inhaled sharply, then all the tension went out of the air between them. He sat up and put his hands on her shoulders. 'Oh, God… baby, I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass—'
'No, I'm sorry that I have to—'
'Shh, it's not your fault. Marissa, this is not your fault—'
'It feels that way—'
'My deficiency, not yours.' His arms, those wonderful, heavy arms, slid around her and gathered her close to his bare chest. In return, she hung on to him for dear life.
As he kissed her temple, he murmured, 'Not your fault. Ever. And I wish I could handle it better, I truly do. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with this.'
She pulled back abruptly, seized by an urgency she didn't question. 'Butch, lay with me. Mate with me. Now.'
'Oh… Marissa… I would love to, I really would.' He smoothed her hair gently. 'But not like this. I'm drunk and your first time should be—'
She cut him off with her mouth, tasting the Scotch and the male in him while she pushed him down on the
