Dark Lover(111)

"None of the other brothers have wives, right?"

"You and I are it, dearie."

Beth smiled. "So we'd better stick together."



Wrath went upstairs, wondering who'd slept where. He knocked on one of the guest room doors, and Butch answered. The human was drying his hair with a towel. Had another wrapped around his waist.

"You know where V is?" Wrath asked.

"Yeah, he's shaving." The cop nodded over his shoulder and stepped aside.

"You need me, boss?" V called out from the bathroom.

Wrath chuckled. "Well, isn't this cozy."

The "fuck off came from both of them as Vishous sauntered into the bedroom, boxers hanging low on his hips. His cheeks were white, and he was dragging an old-fashioned razor across his jawbone. Both his hands were bare.

Oh, man. V's left hand was actually in the breeze, its sacred tattoos spelling out the dire consequences if anyone came into contact with it. Wrath wondered whether the human had any conception what V could do with that thing.

Probably not, or the cop wouldn't be so damned relaxed dancing around the room half-naked.

"So, V," Wrath said, "there's a little issue I need to settle before I'm mated."

Usually he worked alone, but if he was going to take care of Billy Riddle, he wanted Vishous as backup. Humans didn't obligingly disintegrate when you stabbed them, but his brother's left hand would take care of the body. Work of a moment and that corpse would be ether.

V grinned. "Give me five and I'm ready."

"Good deal." Wrath could feel Butch's eyes on him. Clearly, the guy wanted to know what was up. "You don't want to get tangled in this one, cop. Especially given your vocation."

"I'm off the force. Just so you know."

Interesting, Wrath thought. "Mind telling me why?"

"I broke a suspect's nose."

"In a fight?"

"During questioning."

Somehow that was not a surprise. "Now why'd you do that?"

"He tried to rape your future wife, vampire. I wasn't inclined to be gentle when he said she was asking for it."

Wrath felt a growl come out of his throat. The sound was like a living thing as it rose up from his gut. "Billy Riddle."

"Beth told you about the guy?"

Wrath stalked to the door. "Haul ass, V," he snapped.

When he got downstairs, he sensed Beth's presence and found her coming through the painting. He walked up and put his arms around her, hugging her fiercely. He would have her avenged before they were joined. She deserved no less from her hellren.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He nodded against her hair and then looked at Tohr's shel-lan. "Hey, Wellsie. Good of you to come."

The female smiled. "I thought she deserved some support."

"And I'm glad you're here." He pulled back from Beth long enough to kiss Wellsie on the hand.

Vishous strode into the room, fully armed. "Wrath, man, we off?"

"Where are you going?" Beth asked.

"I need to take care of something." He ran his hand down her arm. 'The other brothers are staying here to help get things ready. The ceremony will start at midnight, and I'll be back before then."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but then glanced at Wellsie. Something seemed to pass between the two females.

"Be safe," Beth finally said to him. "Please."

"Don't worry." He kissed her long and slow. "I love you, leelan."

"What does that word mean?"

"Something close to 'dearest one'." He picked his jacket off a chair and gave her one more peck on the lips before leaving.





Chapter Forty-three




Butch combed his hair, slapped on a little cologne, and slipped into a suit that wasn't his. Just as the medicine cabinet in the bathroom was lined with different aftershaves and shaving creams, the closets were full of brand-new men's clothes of various large sizes. All top-drawer, designer stuff.

He'd never worn Gucci before.

And though he didn't like being a mooch, he just couldn't see Marissa in the same clothes he'd been wearing last night. Even if they'd been particularly sharp-and they weren't-he was sure they now smelled like a bar: V's Turkish tobacco and booze combined.

He wanted to be fresh as a daisy for her. He really did.

Butch took a turn in front of a full-length mirror, feeling like a pansy, but unable to help himself. The black pinstripe fit him well. The bright white, open-collared shirt made his tan come out. And the sweet pair of Ferragamo loafers he'd found in a box were just the right amount of flash.

He was almost handsome, he thought. As long as she didn't look too closely at his bloodshot eyes.

The four hours of sleep and all that Scotch showed.

A soft rapping noise sounded.