Lover Unleashed

“No offense, but good—you deserve it.” Butch’s hazel eyes lifted, and after a moment, he smiled a little, flashing that cap on his front tooth as well as his fangs. “You know, I was really getting into hating you for a minute there, I truly was. And before you ask, the turtlenecks are down at the far end of that rack. Take some sweatpants, too. Your legs look like they’ve been hit with a clawhammer, and that ball of yours is clearly about to explode.”

“Thanks, man.” V walked down the lineup of clothes that were suspended on fine cedar hangers. One thing you could say about Butch was that his wardrobe was full of options. “Never thought I’d be glad that you’re a clothes whore.”

“I believe the term is sharp dresser.”

With that Boston accent of his, the words came out shahhp dressah, and V found himself wondering if there’d ever been a time when he hadn’t heard that Southie twang in his ear.

“What are you going to do about Jane?”

V put the bottle on the floor, pulled a cashmere turtleneck over his head, and was pissed to find it barely covered his navel. “She’s got enough on her plate. No shellan needs to hear her male went out for a good beating—and I don’t want you to tell her.”

“How’re you going to explain your puss, smart-ass?”

“The swelling’s going to go down.”

“Not fast enough—you go to see Payne like this—”

“She doesn’t need the viewing pleasure, either. I’m just going to stay scarce for a day. Payne’s in recovery and is stable—at least, that’s what Jane told me, so I’m going to go to my forge.”

Butch held out his glass. “If you don’t mind?”

“Roger that.” V poured some for his boy, took another drink for himself and then yanked on some bottoms. Holding his arms out, he did a turn. “Better?”

“All I see are ankles and wrists—and FYI, you’re pulling a Miley-frickin’-Cyrus with that belly flash. Not attractive.”

“Fuck off.” As V grabbed another hit from the bottle, he decided that getting drunk was his new plan. “I can’t help it that you’re a goddamn midget.”

Butch barked a laugh and then got back to serious. “If you pull this shit again . . .”

“You asked me to take your clothes.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

V tugged at the turtleneck’s sleeves and got absolutely nowhere with them. “You’re not going to have to step in, cop, and I’m not going to get myself killed. That’s not the point. I know where the line is.”

Butch cursed, his face going grim. “You say that, and I believe you think it’s true. But situations can spiral— especially that kind. You can be riding that wave of . . . whatever it is you need . . . and the tide can turn against you.”

V flexed his gloved hand. “Not possible. Not with this—and I really don’t want you talking to my girl about this, true. Promise me. You need to stay out of this.”

“Then you have to speak with her.”

“How can I tell her . . .” His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat. “How the fuck can I explain this to her?”

“How can you not. She loves you.”

V just shook his head. He couldn’t imagine telling his shellan he wanted to be hurt physically. It would kill her. And he absolutely didn’t want her to see him like this. “Look, I’m going to take care of this myself. All of it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, V.” Butch swallowed the rest of his Scotch on a oner. “That’s . . . our biggest problem.”

Jane was watching her patient sleep when her cell phone went off in her pocket. It wasn’t a call, but a text from V: Am home & goin 2 forge 2 wrk. Hw P? & u?

Her exhale was not about relief. He’d come back about ten minutes before full-on sunrise, and he wasn’t seeing her or his sister?

Screw this, she thought, as she stood up and walked out of the recovery suite.

After doing a handoff to Ehlena, who was in the clinic’s exam room updating the Brothers’ files, Jane marched down the corridor, hung a left into the office, and went out the back of the supply closet. No reason to futz around with the lock codes; she just ghosted through—

And there he was, about twenty yards down the tunnel, walking away from her . . . having passed the training center on his way to go even deeper into the mountain.

The fluorescent ceiling lights illuminated him from over his head, hitting his huge shoulders and his heavy lower body. Going by the gloss, his hair looked wet, and the lingering scent of the soap he always used was the confirmation that he’d just showered.

“Vishous.”

She said his name once, but the tunnel was an echo chamber that batted the syllables back and forth, multiplying them.

He stopped.

That was the only response she got.

After waiting for him to say something, to turn around . . . to acknowledge her, she discovered something new about her ghostly state: Even though she wasn’t technically alive, her lungs could still burn sure as if she were suffocating.

“Where did you go tonight,” she said, not expecting an answer.

And she didn’t get one. But he’d halted right under a ceiling fixture, so even from a distance she could see his shoulders tightening up.

“Why aren’t you turning around, Vishous.”

Dear God . . . what had he done at the Commodore? Oh, Jesus . . .

Funny, there was a reason that people “built” lives together. Although the choices you made as husband and wife were not bricks, and time was not mortar, you were still constructing something tangible and real. And right now, as her hellren refused to come over to her—hell, even show her his face—an earthquake was rumbling under what she had thought was solid ground.

“What did you do tonight,” she choked out.

At that, he pivoted on his heel and took two long steps toward her. But it wasn’t to get close. It was to step out of the direct light. Even still . . .

“Your face,” she gasped.

“I got into a fight with some lessers.” As she went to move forward, he held up his palm. “I’m fine. I just need some space right now.”

Something about this was off, she thought. And she hated the question that jumped into her mind—to the point where she refused to let it out.

Except then all they had was silence.

“How’s my sister?” he said abruptly.

Through a closed throat, she replied, “She’s resting comfortably still. Ehlena’s with her.”

“You should take some time off and have a rest.”

“I will.” Uh-huh, right. With things like this between them, she was never going to sleep again.

V dragged his gloved hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say right now.”

“Were you with someone else?”

He didn’t even hesitate: “No.”

Jane stared at him . . . and then slowly exhaled. One thing that was true about her hellren, one thing you could always take to the bank, was that Vishous didn’t lie. For all the faults he had, that was not one of them.

“All right,” she said. “You know where to find me. I’ll be in our bed.”

She was the one who turned away and started walking in the opposite direction. Even though the distance between them broke her heart, she wasn’t going to badger him into something he wasn’t capable of, and if he needed space . . . well, she would give it to him.