Lover Revealed

once.'

'You are—'

He spread out his arms and glanced down at his body. 'Not like this I'm not. But I'm going to make it so I can be. I'm going to take care of this problem of me.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Will you let me escort you in to dinner?' As if to distract her, he came forward and offered her his arm. When she didn't take it, he said, 'Trust me, Marissa.'

After a long moment, she accepted his courtesy, thinking that at least he hadn't pulled away from her. Which was what she could have sworn he'd been doing just after the fire.

'Hey, Butch. Hold up, my man.'

Both she and Butch looked over. Wrath was coming out of the hidden door underneath the stairs and Vishous was with him.

'Evening, Marissa,' the king said. 'Cop, I need you a sec.'

Butch nodded. 'What up?'

'Will you excuse us, Marissa?'

The expressions on the Brothers' faces were bland, their bodies relaxed. And she didn't buy the nothing special for an instant. But like she was going to hang around?

'I'll wait for you at the table,' she told Butch.

She headed to the dining room, then paused and looked back. The three males were standing together, Vishous and Wrath towering over Butch as they did the talking. A surprised look hit Butch's face, his brows lifting up into his forehead. Then he nodded and crossed his arms over his chest—like he was braced and ready to go.

Dread washed over her. Brotherhood business. She just knew it.

When Butch came to the table ten minutes later, she said, 'What did Wrath and V talk to you about?'

He snapped his napkin loose of its folds and put the damask in his lap. 'They want me go through Tohr's house and pull a CSI. Try and see if the guy's been back or left any clues as to where he's gone.'

Oh. 'That's… good.'

'It's what I did for a living for many years.'

'Is that all you'll be doing?'

As a plate of food was set in front of him, he finished his Scotch. 'Yup. Well… the brothers are going to start patrolling rural areas, so they've asked me to work up a route for them. I'm going to go with V and do that after sundown tonight.'

She nodded, telling herself it was going to be fine. As long as he wasn't fighting. As long as he didn't—

'Marissa, what's wrong?'

'I, ah, I just don't want you to get hurt. I mean, you're human and all and—'

'So today I need to do some research.'

Well… if that wasn't a door getting shut on her. And if she pressed the point, she'd only make it sound like she thought he was totally weak. 'Research on what?'

He picked up his fork. 'What happened to me. V's already been through the Chronicles, but he said I could give it a shot, too.»

As she nodded, she realized they would not spend the day sleeping together, side by side, in his bed. Or hers.

She took a sip from her water glass and marveled at how you could sit so close to someone and still have him be totally far away from you.

Chapter Thirty

The following afternoon, John took a seat in the classroom, all impatient for things to get rolling. The schedule of classes ran on a three-days-on, one-day-off rotation, and he was ready to get back to work.

While he went through his notes on plastic explosives, the other trainees yakked it up as they came in and got settled, the horsing around business as usual… until everyone fell silent.

John glanced up. There was a man in the doorway, a man who looked a little unsteady, or maybe drunk. What the hell—

John's mouth went slack as he stared at the face and the red hair. Blaylock. It was… Blaylock, only better.

The guy looked down and awkwardly walked to the back. Actually, he shuffled more than walked, as if he couldn't really control his arms and legs all that well. After he sat down, he moved his knees around under the table until they fit, then he hunched over as if trying to make himself look smaller.

Yeah, good luck on that. Jesus, he was… huge.

Holy crap. He had gone through the transition.

Zsadist walked into the classroom, shut the door, and glanced at Blaylock. Following a quick nod, Z went right into the teaching.

'Today we're going to do an intro to chemical warfare. We're talking tear gas, mustard gas—' The Brother paused. Then cursed as he obviously realized no one was paying any attention because they were all staring at Blay. 'Well, shit. Blaylock, you want to tell them what it was like? We're not going to get anything done here until you do.'

Blaylock turned beet red and shook his head, tucking his arms around his chest.

'Okay, trainees, shoot your eyes up here.' They all looked at Z. 'You want to know what it's like, I'll tell you.'

John got good and fixated. Z kept everything general, revealing nothing of himself, but it was all good information. And the more the Brother talked, the more John's body vibrated.

That's right, he told his blood and bones. Take notes and let's do this soon.

He was so ready to be a man.

Van got out of the Town & Country, shut the passenger-side door quietly, and stayed in the shadows. What he was looking at some hundred yards away reminded him of where he'd grown up: run-down house with a tar-paper roof and a rotting car in the side yard. The only difference was that this was in the middle of nowhere, and his neighborhood had been closer to town. But it was the same two steps up from poverty.

As he scanned the area, the first thing he noticed was an odd sound cutting through the night. It was a rhythmic hitting… like someone was chopping logs? No… it was closer to pounding. Someone was pounding on what was probably the back door of the house in front of him.

'This is your target for tonight,' Mr. X said as two other lessers stepped out of the minivan. 'The daylight details have been watching this place for the past week. No activity until after dark. Iron bars over the windows. Drapes are always drawn. Goal is capture, but kill if you think they're going to get away from you—'

Mr. X stopped and frowned. Then looked around.

Van did the same and saw nothing out of whack.

Until a black Cadillac Escalade came down the drive. With its tinted windows and its spinning chrome, the thing looked like it was worth more than the house. What the hell was it doing out here in all the sticks?

'Get armed,' Mr. X hissed. 'Now.'

Van drew his fancy new Smith & Wesson forty, feeling the weight fill his palm. As his body primed for the fight ahead, he was so ready to engage an opponent.

Except Mr. X pegged him with hard eyes. 'You stay back. I do not want you to engage. Just watch.'

You fucker, Van thought, dragging a hand through his dark hair. You miserable fucker.

'We clear?' Mr. X's face was deadly cold. 'You do not go in.'

The best Van could manage was a dip of the chin and he had to look away to keep from cursing out loud.