Lover Revealed

catch himself on the mattress.

Qhuinn laughed. 'Look at you, punk. You're faced.'

John just shrugged and concentrated on getting himself to the door. As he opened it, Blay said, 'Yo, J?'

John glanced over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow.

'Where can we learn that sign language thing?'

Qhuinn nodded and popped open another beer. 'Yeah, where?'

John blinked. Then wrote on his pad, The Internet. Search for American Sign Language.

'Good deal. And you can help us, right?'

John nodded.

The two went back to the TV and fired up another game. As John shut the door, he heard them laughing and he started to smile. Only to feel the sting of disgrace.

Tohr and Wellsie were dead, he thought. He shouldn't be… enjoying stuff. A real man wouldn't get distracted from his goal, from his enemies… for nothing more than the company of friends.

John weaved down the hall, throwing one arm out to balance.

Trouble was… it felt so good to just be one of the guys. He had always wanted to have friends. Not a big group or anything. But a few, solid, strong… friends.

The kind you could rely on 'til death. Like brothers.

Marissa did not understand how Butch survived what happened to his body. It just seemed impossible. Except this was, evidently, what males went through, particularly warriors. And as he was of Wrath's line, he definitely had that thick blood in him.

When it was over, hours later, Butch lay on the table in the now frigid room, just breathing. His skin was waxy and covered with sweat like he'd run twelve marathons. His feet hung off the far edge of the gurney. His shoulders were nearly twice as big, and his boxers were stretched tight over his thighs.

His face comforted her, though. It was the same as it had been before, proportional with his new body, but the same. And when his eyes opened, they were the hazel she knew so well, with the spirit inside them that was his alone.

He was too dazed to speak, but he shivered, so she brought him a blanket and spread it over him. As the soft weight landed, he flinched as if his skin were too tender, but then he mouthed the words I love you and slid away into sleep.

Abruptly, she became more tired than she'd ever been in her life.

Vishous finished cleaning up the blood on the floor with a spray nozzle and said, 'Let's eat.'

'I don't want to leave him.'

'I know. I asked Fritz to bring something to us and he left it just outside.'

Marissa followed the Brother out into the Equipment Room and they each sat down on double-sized benches built out from the wall. They ate Fritz's little picnic munchies in the midst of racks of nunchakus and training daggers and swords and guns. The sandwiches were good and so were the apple juice and the oatmeal cookies.

After a while, Vishous lit a hand-rolled and leaned back. 'He's going to be fine, you know.'

'I can't see how he got through it.'

'Mine was like that.'

She stopped with a second ham sandwich on the way to her mouth. 'Really?'

'Worse, actually. I was smaller than him when it happened.'

'He's the same on the inside, though, isn't he?'

'Yup, he's still your boy.'

When she finished the sandwich, she put both her legs up on the bench and eased back against the wall. 'Thank you.'

'For what?'

'Sealing me up.' She held out her wrist.

His diamond gaze shifted away. 'No problem.'

In the quiet, her eyelids drooped and she shook herself to wake up.

'Nan, let yourself go,' Vishous murmured. 'I'll watch him and as soon as he comes around, I'll let you know. Go on… lie down.'

She stretched out, then curled on her side. She didn't expect to sleep, but shut her eyes anyway.

'Lift your head,' Vishous said. When she did, he slid a rolled-up towel under her ear. 'This is better for your neck.'

'You're very kind.'

'You kidding? Cop would kick my ass for letting you be uncomfortable.'

She could have sworn Vishous brushed his hand down her hair, but then figured it was in her mind.

'What about you?' she said softly as he sat on the other bench. God, he had to be as tired as she was.

His smile was remote. 'You don't worry about me, female. Just sleep.'

Surprisingly, she did.

* * *

V watched Marissa pass out from exhaustion. Then he tilted his head and looked into the PT/first aid suite. From this angle he could see the soles of the cop's much larger feet. Man… Butch really was one of them now. A card-carrying, fanged-up, warrior male who looked like he was going to stand at about six-six, maybe six-seven. Wrath's bloodline was definitely in that boy—and V wondered if they were ever going to find out why.

The door to the Equipment Room swung open and Z walked in, with Phury right behind him.

'What happened?' the two of them asked in unison.

'Shhh.' V nodded at Marissa. Then in a quiet voice he said, 'See for yourself. He's in there.'

The two went to the doorway. 'Holy shit…' Phury breathed.

'That's a big one,' Z muttered. Then he sniffed the air. 'Why is Wrath's bonding scent all over this place—or is it me?'

V stood up. 'Come outside to the gym, I don't want to wake either of them.'

The three walked onto the blue mats and V shut the door most of the way behind them.

'So where is Wrath?' Phury asked as they sat down. 'I thought he was here to witness the whole thing.'

'He's busy.' No doubt.

Z stared at the door. 'That cop's big, V. That cop is really big.'

'I know.' V laid himself out flat on his back and took a drag. As he exhaled, he refused to look at his brothers.

'V, he's really big.'

'Don't even go there. It's too early to know what he's going to be like.'

Z rubbed over his skull trim. 'I'm just saying. He's—'

'I know.'

'And he's got Wrath's blood in him.'

'I know, But look, it's too soon, Z. It's just too soon. Besides, his mother isn't a Chosen.'

Z's yellow eyes grew annoyed. 'Stupid fucking rule if you ask me.'

Chapter Forty

Butch woke up on the gurney in the midst of taking a deep breath in through his nose. He was… smelling something. Something that pleased him greatly. Something that made him hum with power. Mine, a voice said in his head.

He tried to shake the word off, but it just got louder. With every breath he took, the single syllable repeated