number one-ing this. She'd hated spending the daylight hours away from him, hated the distance between them, and she wasn't letting it go on anymore on her side.
Butch stepped in close, his hands going to her face. 'Christ, Marissa… you don't know what it means to hear you say that. I need to know that. Need to feel that.'
He kissed her softly, whispering loving things against her mouth, and as she trembled, he held her with care. There were things still left awkwardly between them, but none of that mattered at the moment. She just needed to reconnect with him.
When he pulled back a little, she said, 'I'm going to go inside, but will you wait? I'd like to show you my new house.'
He ran his fingertip lightly down her cheek. Though his eyes grew sad, he said, 'Yeah, I'll wait. And I would love to see where you're going to live.'
'I won't be long.'
She kissed him again and then headed off to the clinic entrance. As she felt like an intruder, it was a surprise to be admitted inside without a fuss, but she knew that didn't mean things were going to go smoothly. While she rode down in the elevator, she fiddled with her hair. She was nervous about seeing Havers. Would there be a scene?
When she walked into the waiting area, the nursing staff knew exactly what she'd come for and she was taken down to a patient room. She knocked on the door and stiffened.
Havers looked up from talking with the young in the cast and his face froze. As he seemed to lose track of the words he was speaking, he pushed up his glasses, then cleared his throat with a cough.
'You came!' the young called out to Marissa.
'Hi, there,' she said, lifting her hand.
'If you'll excuse me,' Havers murmured to the mother, 'I'll get your discharge papers in order. But as I said, there's no hurry for you to leave.'
Marissa stared at her brother as he came up to her, wondering whether he would even acknowledge her presence. And he did in a manner of speaking. His glance flicked over the pants she had on and he winced.
'Marissa.'
'Havers.'
'You look… well.'
Nice enough words. But what he meant was she looked different. And he didn't approve. 'I am well.'
'If you'll excuse me.'
As he left without waiting for a response, anger boiled up into her throat, but she didn't let the nasty words on her tongue fly. Instead, she went to the bedside and sat down. While she took the little female's hand, she tried to figure out what to say, but the young's singsong voice got there first.
'My father is dead,' the child said factually. 'My
Marissa closed her eyes briefly, thanking the dear Scribe Virgin that at least she had an answer for one of those problems.
She looked over at the mother. 'I know exactly where you should go. And I'm going to take you there soon.'
The mother started to shake her head. 'We have no money—'
'But I can pay rent,' the young said, holding her tattered tiger. She loosened the stitching on the back, dug her hand in and took out the wishing plate. 'This is gold, right? So it's money… right?'
Marissa breathed in deeply and told herself not to cry. 'No, that's a gift to you from me. And there is no rent to be paid. I have an empty home and it needs people to fill it.' She glanced once again at the mother. 'I would love it if you two would stay there with me as soon as my new house is ready.'
When John finally went back to the locker room after his meltdown, he was all alone. Wrath had returned to the main house, Lash had been taken away to the clinic, and the other guys had gone home.
Which was good. In the resounding quiet, he took the longest shower of his life, just stood under the hot spray, letting the water run down him. His body felt achy. Sick.
Jesus Christ. Had he really bitten the king? Beaten a classmate?
John eased back against the tile. In spite of all the spray washing over him and the soap he'd used, nothing cleaned him off. He still seemed curiously… dirty. But then, disgrace and shame did make you feel like you were covered in pig shit.
Cursing, he looked down at the sparse muscles of his chest and the sunken pit of his stomach and the pointy knobs of his hips, looked past his utterly unimpressive sex to his little feet. Then followed the tile to the drain where Lash's blood had funneled out.
He could have killed the guy, he realized. He'd been that out of control.
'John?'
He jerked his head up. Zsadist was standing in the shower's entryway, his face utterly impassive.
'You finish, you come up to the main house. We'll be in Wrath's study.'
John nodded and turned the water off. Chances were very good that he was going to be kicked out of the training program. Maybe out of the house. And he couldn't blame them. But God, where would he go?
After Z left, John toweled dry, put his clothes on, and went across the hall to Tohr's office. He had to keep his eyes down as he passed through on his way to the tunnel. He couldn't bear any of his memories of Tohrment right now. Not a single one.
Couple minutes later he was in the mansion's foyer, staring up at the grand staircase. He climbed the red- carpeted steps slowly, feeling unbearably tired, and the exhaustion grew worse when he got to the top: The double doors to Wrath's study were open and voices spilled out, the king's and others'. How he would miss them all, he thought.
The first thing he noticed when he stepped into the room was Tohr's chair. The ugly green monster had been moved and was now behind and to the left of the throne. Odd.
John walked forward and waited to be acknowledged.
Wrath was bent over a fancy little desk piled with papers, a magnifying glass in his hand apparently helping him to read. Z and Phury were flanking the king, one on either side, both leaning over the map Wrath was looking at.
'This is where we found the first torture camp,' Phury said, pointing to a big green stretch. 'Here's where Butch was found. Here's where I was taken.'
'Big spread between them all,' Wrath muttered. 'Lot of miles.'
'What we need is an airplane,' Z said. 'Aerial review would be much more efficient.'
'True that.' Except Wrath shook his head. 'But we'd have to watch it. Get too close to the ground and the FAA would crawl up our ass.'
John inched a little closer to the desk. Craned his neck.
In a smooth move, Wrath pushed the big sheet of paper forward as if he'd finished reviewing it. Or maybe… was encouraging John to take a peek. Except instead of staring at the topographical spread, John looked at the king's forearm. The bite mark on that thick wrist mortified him and he stepped back.
Just as Beth walked in with a leather box of scrolls tied with red ribbons.
'Okay, Wrath, how about some briefing time. I've prioritized all these.'
Wrath leaned back as Beth put the box down. Then the king captured her face, kissing her on the mouth as well as both sides of her throat. 'Thanks,
'You're kidding me.'
'Fools haven't passed it yet, but according to Rehvenge, the vote's coming soon.' The king looked at Z and Phury. 'You two check into the airplane situation. We got anyone who knows how to fly?'
Phury shrugged. 'I used to. And we could bring V in on it—'
'Bring me in on what?' V said as he walked into the study.
Wrath looked around the twins. 'Can you say Cessna, my brother?'
