Lover Revealed

Training his eyes on the SUV, he watched as the thing got to the end of the ratty little cul-de-sac and stopped.

Clearly, it was some kind of patrol. Not cops, though. At least, not human ones.

The Escalade's engine was cut and two men got out. One was relatively normal-sized, assuming you were talking about linebackers. The other guy was enormous.

Jesus Christ… a Brother. Had to be. And Xavier was right. That vampire was bigger than anything Van had ever seen—and he'd gone into the ring with some monster-sized mofo's in his day.

Just like that, the Brother was gone. Poof! into thin air. Before Van could ask what the holy hell that was about, the vampire's partner turned his head and stared right at Mr. X. Even though they were all in the shadows.

'Oh, my God…' Xavier breathed. 'He's alive. And the master… is with…'

The Fore-lesser lurched forward and kept walking. Right into the moonlight. Right into the middle of the road.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Butch's body trembled as he looked at the pale-haired lesser who emerged from the darkness. No question, this was the one who'd worked him over: Even though Butch had no conscious memories of the torture, his body seemed to know who had done the damage, its recollection embedded in the very flesh that had been torn and bruised by the bastard.

Butch was so ready to have at the Fore-lesser.

Except the shit hit the fan before he ever had the chance.

From somewhere behind the house, a chain saw started up with a roar, then settled into a high, whining scream. And at that exact moment, a second pale-haired lesser stepped out from the woods with his gun aimed at Butch.

As the semiautomatic went off and bullets whizzed by his head, Butch palmed his own Glock and jammed for cover behind the Escalade. Once he had some shield, he returned the hi-how-are-yas, squeezing out rounds, his Glock kicking in his palm as he kept his vital organs out of the line of fire. When there was a breather in the exchange, he peered through bulletproof glass. The shooter was behind a rusted-out car carcass, no doubt reloading. Like Butch was.

And yet the first slayer, Butch's torturer, still hadn't armed himself. The guy was just standing in the middle of the road, staring at Butch.

Almost like eating lead would make his day.

So ready to fucking oblige, Butch leaned out around the SUV, pulled his trigger, and popped the guy right in the chest. With a grunt, the Fore-lesser staggered back, but he didn't go down. He seemed merely annoyed, throwing off the bullet's impact like it was nothing more than a bee sting.

Butch had no idea what to make of that, but now wasn't the time for wondering why his fancy bullets didn't slow that particular slayer down. Sticking his arm into the breeze, he started firing at the guy again, the shots kicking out of his muzzle in quick succession. Finally, the lesser yard-saled, falling backward in a sprawling heap—

Just as a slapping noise came from behind Butch, so loud he thought another gun was going off.

He swung around, two-fisting the Glock to keep it up in front and steady. Oh, shit!

A female with a child in her arms shot out of the house in a blind panic. And she had good reason to haul ass. Right on her heels was a hulking male with punishment on his face and a chain saw up over his shoulder. The lunatic was about to fall on the pair of them with that spinning blade, ready, willing, and able to kill.

Butch kicked up his gun muzzle two inches, aimed at the man's head, and pulled the trigger—

Right as Vishous appeared behind the guy, reaching for the saw.

'Fuck!' Butch tried to stop his forefinger from squeezing, but the gun bucked and the bullet flew—

And someone grabbed Butch around the throat: The second lesser with the gun had moved in fast.

Butch got flipped off his feet and slammed onto the hood of the Escalade like he was a baseball bat. On impact, he lost his Glock, the weapon bouncing away, metal on metal.

Fuck that, though. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat and felt for the switchblade he carried. Bless the damn thing's heart, it found his palm like it had come to a heel and he dragged his arm free. As the blade shot out, he jogged his torso to the left and stabbed the side of the slayer who held him down.

Howl of pain. Grip loosened. And Butch shoved hard against the chest above his, popping the lesser up off him. As the bastard hung in midair for a split second, Butch swung the knife in an arc. The switchblade streaked across the lesser's throat, opening up a fountainhead of black blood.

Butch kicked the slayer to the ground and turned to the house.

Vishous was holding his own against the guy with the chain saw, avoiding the roaring blade while throwing body shots. Meanwhile, the female with the child was running like hell across the side yard while another, pale- haired lesser closed in from the right.

'Called for Rhage,' V had the presence of mind to holler.

'Going for vie,' Butch yelled as he took off. He ran flat out, his feet gouging into the ground, knees kicking up to his chest. He prayed he would get there in time, prayed he'd be fast enough… Please, just this once…

He intercepted the lesser with a spectacular flying tackle.

And as they went down, he screamed for the female to keep going.

Gunshots went, off somewhere, but he was too busy with a blurring struggle to care. He and the lesser rolled around in the patchy snow, punching and choking each other. He knew he was going to lose if they kept going like this, so out of desperation and some kind of driving instinct, he stopped fighting, let the slayer dominate him… and then locked stares with the lesser.

That link, that horrible communion, that ironclad tie between them took root in an instant, rendering them both motionless. And with the bonding came an urge for Butch to consume.

He opened his mouth and began to inhale.

Chapter Thirty-one

Lying in the middle of the road, bleeding like a sieve, Mr. X kept his eye on the contaminated human who was supposed to be dead. The guy handled himself, especially as he took down a lesser in the side yard, but he was going to get overpowered. And sure enough, he did. As the slayer flipped him on his back, he was going to get slaughtered in—

Except then the pair of them froze, and the dynamic shifted, the rules of strength and weakness getting scrambled. The slayer might have been on top, but the human was in charge.

Mr. X became breathless. Something was happening over there… something…

But then a blond-haired Brother materialized out of thin air right beside the two. The warrior swooped down and tore the lesser off the human, breaking whatever link had been forged.

From out of the shadows, Van came over to Mr. X and blocked the view. 'How'd you like to get out of here?'

Probably the safest course. He was about to pass out. 'Yeah… and move fast.'

As Mr. X got picked up and rushed to the minivan, his head bobbed like a half-stuffed doll's, and he watched through the wobbles as the blond Brother disintegrated the other lesser then knelt to check on the human.

Such fucking heroes.

Mr. X let his eyes go lax. And thanked a God he didn't believe in that Van Dean was too much of a new recruit to know that lessers didn't take their injured back home with them.

Usually, a damaged slayer was left where he fell either for the Brothers to stab him back to the Omega or for