Slowly, his lips closed around her finger. And then his tongue ran around the tip in a circle.
A surge went through her body. "Oh"
Her breasts tingled at the tips, and something was happening between her legs. She felt achy. Hungry.
"I want" She didn't know what to say next.
He covered her hand with his and pulled his head back, sucking the length of her finger until it popped out of his mouth. With his eyes boring into hers, he turned her palm over, licked the center of it with his tongue, and pressed his lips to her skin.
She leaned into him.
"What do you want?" he asked in a low voice. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want."
"I don't know. I've never felt this before."
Her answer seemed to crack the spell. His face grew dark, and he dropped her hand. A curse, soft and vile, floated out of him as he put some space between them.
Marissa's eyes burned at his rejection. "Have I displeased you?"
God knew, it was something she seemed to excel at when it came to males.
"Displeased? No, you're doing just fine. You're a real pro." He pushed a hand through his hair. He seemed to be struggling with himself, as if he were trying to get back to normal from some faraway place. "It's just that the innocent act is freaking me out a little."
"Act?"
"You know, the doe-eyed-virgin routine."
She stepped forward while trying to frame a response, but he held out his hands. "That's close enough right now."
"Why?"
"Please, baby. Give it a rest."
Her face fell. "You make no sense."
"Oh, really," he said. "Look, you can turn me on just standing there. You don't have to pretend you're something you're not. And I ah, I don't have a problem with what you do. I'm not going to arrest you for it, either."
"Why would you arrest me?"
As he rolled his eyes, she had no clue what he was talking about.
"I will go now," she said abruptly. His aggravation was growing with each passing moment.
"Wait." He reached out and took her arm. The instant he made contact, he dropped his hand. "I still want to see you."
She frowned, eyeing the hand he'd touched her with. He was rubbing the thing like he wanted to get rid of a sensation.
"Why?" she asked. "You obviously don't like the feel of me right now."
"Uh-huh. Yeah, sure." He regarded her cynically. "Look, how much is it going to cost me to get you to play normal?"
She glared back at him. Before she'd had it out with Wrath, she might have just skulked off. But no more.
"I don't understand you," she said.
"Whatever, baby. Tell me, are some guys so hard up to pop cherries that they actually buy this act?"
Marissa didn't understand all the vernacular he used, but the gist of what he was thinking finally got through to her. Appalled, she threw her spine into a straight line.
"I beg your pardon!"
He stared at her, jaw set hard. Then he exhaled.
"Ah, hell. He rubbed his face with his hand. "Look, forget it, okay? Let's just forget we ever met-"
"I have never been taken. My hellren did not favor my company. So I have not once been kissed or touched or even held by a male who felt passion for me. But I am not I am not unworthy." Her voice quavered at the end. "I've just never been wanted before."
His eyes went wide, like she'd slapped him or something.
She looked away. "And I've never touched a male," she whispered. "I just don't know what to do."
The human let out a long breath, as if all the oxygen in his body were being expelled.
"Holy Mary, mother of God," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I'm I'm a total asshole, and I totally misjudged you."
His horror at what he'd said to her was so palpable, she smiled a little. "You truly mean that."
"Hell, yeah. I mean, yes, I do. I hope I haven't completely offended you. Well, how could I not have? Jesus Christ I'm very sorry." He looked positively pale.
She put her hand on his arm. "I forgive you."
He laughed in disbelief. "You shouldn't. You should stay pissed at me for a while. At least a week, maybe a month. Probably longer. I was way out of line."
"But I don't want to be angry at you."
There was a long pause. "Will you still see me tomorrow?"
"Yes."
He seemed stunned by his good fortune. "Really? Man, you're going for sainthood, you know that?" He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingertip. "Where, baby? Where's good for you?"
She thought for a moment. Havers would have a fit if he knew she was seeing a human.
"Here. I will meet you here. Tomorrow night."
He smiled. "Good. Now, how're you getting home? Do you need a ride? A taxi?"
"No, I will do that myself."
"Wait-before you go." He moved toward her. That lovely scent of his hit her nose and she breathed him in. "Can I kiss you good-night? Even though I don't deserve it?"
Per custom, she offered him the back of her hand.
He took it and pulled her forward. That throbbing in her blood and between her legs came back.
"Close your eyes," he whispered.
She did as he'd said.
His lips softly brushed her forehead. Then her temple.
Her mouth opened as the sweet suffocation returned.
"You could never displease me," he said in his gravelly voice.
And then his lips touched her cheek.
She waited for more. When nothing came, she opened her eyes. He was staring down at her remotely.
"Go," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She nodded. And dematerialized right out of his hand.
Butch shouted and leaped back. "Shit!"
He looked at his hand. He could still feel her palm against his. Still smell her perfume.
But she was goddamned gone. Poof. One minute in front of him and then the next
Beth came running into the room. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not fucking okay," he snapped.
The suspect strode in. "Where's Marissa?"
"How should I know! She fucking disappeared! In front She was I held her hand and then she-" He sounded like a frantic idiot and clapped his trap shut.
But why wouldn't he be freaked out? He liked the laws of physics just as he knew them. Gravity keeping everything on the flipping planet where it should be. E = mc2 telling him how fast he could get to a bar.
People not poofing the hell out of a goddamned room.
"May I tell him?" Beth asked her man.
The suspect shrugged. "Usually I'd say no, because it's better they don't know. But considering what he saw-"
"Tell me what? That you're a bunch of-"
"Vampires," Beth murmured.
Butch looked at her, annoyed. "Yeah, right. Try that one again, sweetheart."
But then she started talking, telling him things he couldn't believe.
When Beth fell silent, he could only stare at her. His instincts were telling him she wasn't lying. But it was all just too hard to accept.
"I don't believe this," he said to her.
"It was hard for me to comprehend, too."
"I'll bet."
He paced around the room, wishing he had a drink. The two of them just stared at him.
Finally, he stopped in front of Beth. "Open your mouth."
He heard a low, nasty sound behind him just as a cold draft hit him in the back.
"Wrath, it's okay," Beth said. "Calm down."
She parted her lips, revealing two long canines that had very certainly not been there before. Butch felt his knees wobble as he reached out to touch her teeth.
A thick hand clamped on his arm, tight enough to bend the bones in his wrist.
"Don't even think about it," Beth's man growled.
"Let him go," she commanded gently, though she didn't offer her mouth again after the guy had released his grip. "They're real, Butch. This whole thing it's all real."
Butch looked up at the suspect. "So you're actually a vampire, is that it?"
"You'd better believe it, cop." The big, dark bastard smiled, flashing a monstrous set of fangs.
Now that's some serious hardware, Butch thought.
"Did you bite her and turn her into one?"
"Doesn't work that way. You're either born our kind or you're not."
Well, weren't all those Dracula fans going to be bummed? No two-pronged conversions.
Butch let himself fall down onto the sofa. "Did you kill those women? To drink their"
"Blood? No. What's in human veins wouldn't keep me alive for long."
"So you're telling me you had nothing to do with those deaths? I mean, we found throwing stars at the scenes that match the ones you were packing the night I arrested you."
"I didn't kill them, cop."
"How about the one in the car?"
The guy shook his head. "My prey is not human. What I fight's got nothing to do with your world. And the bomb? We lost one of ours in it."
Beth made a quick, hard sound. "My father," she whispered.
The man drew her into his arms. "Yeah. And we're looking for the bastard who did it."
"Any idea who pushed the button?" Butch asked, the cop in him coming out.
The guy shrugged. "We got a bead on something. But that's our business, not yours."
Yeah, and Butch had no reason to ask anyway. Because he wasn't on the force.
The guy stroked Beth's back and shook his head. "I won't lie to you, cop. Occasionally, a human gets in the way of what we do. And if anyone threatens our race, I will kill them, no matter who or what they are. But I'm not going to tolerate human casualties the same way I used to, and not just because it risks our exposure." He pressed a kiss onto Beth's mouth, meeting her eyes.
At that point, the rest of the gang members filed into the room. Their cold stares made Butch feel like a bug under glass. Or a roast beef about to be carved up.
Mr. Normal stepped forward and offered him a Scotch bottle. "You look like you could use some."
Yeah, you think?
Butch took a swig. "Thanks."
"So can we kill him now?" said the one with the goatee and the baseball hat.
Beth's man spoke harshly. "Back off, V."
"Why? He's just a human."
"And my shellan is half-human. The man doesn't die just because he's not one of us."
"Jesus, you've changed your tune."
"So you need to catch up, brother."
Butch got to his feet. If his death was going to be debated, he wanted in on the discussion.
"I appreciate the support," he said to Beth's boy. "But I don't need it."
He went over to the guy with the hat, discreetly switching his grip on the bottle's neck in case he had to crack the damn thing over a head. He moved in tight, so their noses were almost touching. He could feel the vampire heating up, priming for a fight.
"I'm happy to take you on, asshole," Butch said. "I'll probably end up losing, but I fight dirty, so I'll make you hurt while you kill me." Then he eyed the guy's hat. "Though I hate clocking the shit out of another Red Sox fan."
There was a shout of laughter from behind him. Someone said, "This is gonna be fun to watch."
The guy in front of Butch narrowed his eyes into slits. "You true about the Sox?"
"Born and raised in Southie. Haven't stopped grinning since '04."
There was a long pause.
The vampire snorted. "I don't like humans."
"Yeah, well, I'm not too crazy about you bloodsuckers."
Another stretch of silence.
The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the World Series?"
"The New York Yankees," Butch replied.
The vampire laughed in a loud burst, whipped the baseball cap off his head, and slapped it on his thigh. Just like that, the tension was broken.
Butch let out a long breath, feeling like he'd just been missed by an eighteen-wheeler. As he took another swig from the bottle, he decided it had been one weird fucking night.
"Tell me that Curt Schilling was not a god," the vampire said.
There was a collective groan from the other men. One of them muttered, "If he starts going on about Varitek, I'm outta here."
"Schilling was a true warrior," Butch said, taking another hit of the single-malt. When he offered the Scotch to the vampire, the guy grabbed the bottle and took a hard pull.
"Amen to that," the vampire said.
Chapter Thirty-nine
When Marissa walked into her bedroom, she took a little spin, feeling her gown splay out around her.
"Where have you been?"
She stopped midtwirl. The dress came to a heel in a swirling rush.
Havers was sitting on the chaise, his face in shadow. "I asked, where were you?"
"Please don't take that tone-"
"You saw the brute."
"He's not a-"
"Do not defend him to me!"
She wasn't going to. She was going to tell her brother that Wrath had listened to her recrimations and accepted all blame for the past. That he'd apologized and his regret had been tangible. That although his words couldn't make up for what had happened, she felt that she had been heard.
And that even if her former hellren was the reason she'd gone to Darius's, he wasn't why she'd stayed.
"Havers, please. Things are much different." After all, Wrath had told her he was to be mated. And she had met someone. "You must hear me out."
"No, I mustn't. I know that you go to him still. That is enough."
Havers got off the chaise, moving without his usual grace. As he stepped into the light, she was horrified. His skin was gray, his cheeks hollow. He'd been getting thinner and thinner of late. Now, he looked like a skeleton.
"You are ill," she whispered.
"I am perfectly well."
"The transfusion didn't work, did it?"
"Do not try to change the subject!" He glared at her. "God, I never thought it would come to this. I never thought you would hide from me."
"I have hidden nothing!"
"You told me you had broken the covenant."
"I did."
"You lie."
"Havers, listen to me-"
"No longer!" He did not meet her eyes as he opened the door. "You are all I have left, Marissa. Do not ask me to politely sit aside and play witness your destruction."
"Havers!"
The door slammed.
With grim determination, she ran out to the hall. "Havers!"
He was already at the head of the stairs, and he refused to look back at her. His hand slashed violently in the air behind him, as if he were dismissing her.
She went back to her room and sat down at her dressing table. It was a long while before she could take a full breath.
Havers's anger was understandable, but frightening because of its intensity and rarity. She'd never seen her brother in such a state. It was clear there would be no reasoning with him until he calmed down.
Tomorrow she would talk with him. She would explain everything, even the new male she had met.
She looked at herself in the mirror and thought of how the human had touched her. She brought her hand up, feeling again the sensation of him sucking her finger. She wanted more of him.
Her fangs elongated slightly.
What would his blood taste like?
After settling Beth in her father's bed, Wrath went to his chamber and dressed himself in a white shirt and long, baggy white pants. He grabbed a string of enormous black pearls out of an ebony box and knelt on the floor next to his bed, settling back on his heels. He put the necklace on, laid his hands palms-up on his thighs, and closed his eyes.
As he marshaled his breath, his senses came alive. He could hear Beth shifting in the bed across the hall, sighing as she burrowed into the pillows. The rest of the house was fairly quiet, only subtle vibrations coming down to him. As some of the brothers were crashing in the upstairs bedrooms, male feet were moving around.
He was willing to bet Butch and V were still talking baseball.
Wrath had to smile. That human was a trip. One of the most aggressive men he'd ever come across.
And as for Marissa liking the cop? Well, they'd all just have to see where that went. Having any kind of relationship with someone of the other species was dangerous. Sure, the brothers slept with a lot of human women, but those were one night only, so the memories were easy to erase. Once emotions got involved, and time passed, it was harder to do a good scrub job on the human brain. Things lingered. Surfaced later. Got people into trouble.
Hell, maybe Marissa was just going to play with the guy and then suck him dry. Which was fine. But until either she killed him or took him for her own, Wrath was going to watch the situation carefully.
Wrath harnessed his thoughts and started to chant in the old language, using the sounds to wipe out his cognitive processes. He was rusty at first, tripping over words. The last time he'd said the prayers, he'd been nineteen or twenty years old. Memories of his father sitting next to him and telling him what to say were a seductive diversion, but he forced his mind to be blank.
The pearls began to warm against his chest.
And then he found himself in a courtyard. The Italianate architecture was white; the marble fountain, the marble columns, the marble floor, all had a pale glow to them. The only splash of color came from a flock of songbirds sitting in a white tree.
He stopped praying and got to his feet.
"It has been a long time, warrior." The regal female voice came from behind him.
He turned around.
The diminutive figure approaching him was completely draped in black silk. Her head and face were covered, her hands and feet, everything. She glided over to him, not walking, just moving through the still air. Her presence made him uneasy.
Wrath bowed his head. "Scribe Virgin, how are you?"
"More to the point, how fare you, warrior? You have come seeking change, have you not?"
He nodded. "I-"
"You wish the covenant with Marissa to be broken. You have found another and you would take her as your shellan."
"Yes."
"This female you want. She is the daughter of your brother Darius, who is in the Fade."
"Have you seen him?"
She laughed slightly. "Do not make inquiries of me. I let your first question slide because you were being polite, but remember your manners, warrior."
Shit.
"My apologies, Scribe Virgin."
"I grant you and Marissa freedom from your covenant."
"Thank you."
There was a long pause.
He waited for her ruling on the second part of his request. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask.
"Tell me something, warrior. Do you think your species is unworthy?"
He frowned and then quickly smoothed his face into neutral. The Scribe Virgin wasn't going to put up with being glowered at.
"Well, warrior?"
He had no idea where she was going with this. "My species is a fierce and proud race."
"I didn't ask you for a statement of definition. I asked you what you thought of them."
"I protect them with my life."
"And yet you will not lead your people. So I can only surmise that you do not value them and therefore fight because you like to or because you wish to die. Which is it?"
This time he let his frown stay in place. "My race survives because of what the brothers and I do."
"Barely. In fact, its numbers dwindle. It does not thrive. The only localized colony is the one that settled on the United States' East Coast. And even they live isolated from one another. There are no communities. The festivals are no longer held. Rituals are observed privately, if at all. There is no one to mediate disputes, no one to give them hope. And the Black Dagger Brotherhood is cursed. There are none left in it who do not suffer."
"The brothers have their problems. But they are strong."
"And should be stronger." She shook her head. "You have failed your bloodline, warrior. You have failed your purpose. So tell me, why should I grant your wish to take the half-breed as queen?" The Scribe Virgin's robes moved as if she were shaking her head. "Better that you continue to merely service her with your staff than to have your people saddled with yet another meaningless figurehead. Go now, warrior. We are finished."
"I would have a word in my defense," he said, gritting his teeth.
"And I would deny you." She turned away.
"I beg of your mercy." He hated saying the words, and he guessed by the sound of her laugh that she knew it.
The Scribe Virgin came back to him.
When she spoke, her tone was hard, hard as the black lines of her robe against all the white marble. "If you're going to beg, warrior, do it properly. Get on your knees."
Wrath forced his body down to the ground, hating her.
"I rather like you like this," she murmured, back to being relatively pleasant. "Now, what were you saying?"
He swallowed the hostile words in his throat, forcing himself to affect an even temper that was an absolute lie. "I love her. I want to honor her, not just have her to warm my bed."
"So treat her well. But there is no need to have a ceremony."
"I disagree." He tacked on, "Respectfully."
There was a long pause.
"You have sought no counsel from me over these centuries."
He lifted his head. "Is that what bothers you?"
"Do not question me!" she snapped. "Or I will have that half-breed taken from you faster than your next breath."
Wrath put his head down and ground his fists into the marble.
He waited.
Waited so long, he was tempted to look and see if she had gone.
"I will require a favor," she said.
"Name it."
"You will lead your people."
Wrath looked up, his throat squeezing shut. He couldn't save his parents, he could barely do right by Beth, and the Scribe Virgin wanted him to be responsible for his whole goddamned race?
"What say you, warrior?"
Yeah, like no was an option. "As you wish, Scribe Virgin."
"That is my command, warrior. It is not my wish and not the favor I will ask of you, either." She let out an exasperated noise. "Do get to your feet. Those knuckles of yours are bleeding on my marble."
He stood and leveled his eyes on her. He stayed silent, figuring she was probably going to lay some more conditions on him.
She addressed him sharply. "You have no wish to be king. That is obvious. But it is your birth obligation, and it is about time you lived up to your legacy."
Wrath dragged a hand through his hair, creeping anxiety tensing his muscles.
The Scribe Virgin's voice softened. A little. "Worry not, warrior. I will not leave you to find your way alone. You will come to me and I will help you. Being your counsel is part of my purpose."
Which was a good thing, because he was going to need the help. He had no clue how to rule. He could kill a hundred different ways, handle himself in any kind of battle, keep his head cool when the goddamned world was on fire. But ask him to address a thousand of his people in a crowd? His stomach rolled.
"Warrior?"
"Yeah, you'll be hearing from me."
"But that's still not the favor you owe."
"What is-" He brushed a hand through his hair. "I take that back."
She laughed softly. "You always did learn fast."
"I'd better." If he were going to be king.
The Scribe Virgin floated closer to him, and he smelled lilacs. "Put your hand out."
He did.
The black folds shifted as her arm came up. Something fell into his hand. A ring. A heavy gold ring set with a ruby the size of walnut. It was so hot he almost had to drop the thing.
The Saturnine Ruby.
"You will give her this from me. And I will attend the ceremony."
Wrath gripped the gift so hard, it bit into his palm. "You honor us."
"Yes, but I have another purpose in coming."
"The favor."
She laughed. "Good one. A question posed in the form of a statement. You will, of course, not be surprised when I do not indulge you. Go now, warrior. Go to your female. Let us hope she is a good choice for you."
The figure turned and moved away.
"Scribe Virgin?"
"We are through."
"Thank you."
She paused by the fountain.
Black folds shifted as she reached out to the tumbling water. When the silk fell back, a blinding light was revealed, as if her bones glowed and her skin were translucent. The moment she touched the water, a rainbow sprang from the contact, filling the white courtyard.
Wrath hissed in shock as his vision suddenly cleared. The courtyard, the columns, the colors, her, all of it came into sharp focus. He latched onto the rainbow. Yellow, orange, red, violet, blue, green. The jewellike colors were so brilliant, they sliced through the air, and yet their vivid beauty didn't hurt him. He drank in the sight, wrapped his mind around it, held on to it.
The Scribe Virgin faced him, dropping her hand. Instantly, the colors vanished and his vision faded again.
She'd given him a small gift, he realized. Just as she'd put the ring in his hand for Beth.
"You are right," she said softly. "I had hoped to be closer to you. Your father and I, we were bonded, and these lonely centuries have been long and hard. No one worshiping, no one chanting, no history to be kept. I am useless. Forgotten.
"But far worse," she went on, "I see the future, and it is grim. The survival of the race is not ensured. You will not be able to do this alone, warrior."
"I'll learn to ask for help."
She nodded. "We will start anew, you and I. And we will work together, as it should be."
"As it should be," he murmured, trying out the words.
"I will come to you and your brothers tonight," she said. "And the ceremony will be performed accordingly. We will set you into a covenant that is right, warrior, and we will do it in the right way. Assuming the female will have you."
He had a feeling the Scribe Virgin was smiling.
"My father told me your name," he said. "I would use it, if you wish."
"Do."
"We'll see you then, Analisse. And the preparations will be made."
Chapter Forty
Mr. X watched Billy Riddle walk into the office. Riddle was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, looking tanned, healthy, strong.
Strapping, to use an old-fashioned word from Mr. X's youth.
"Sensei." Billy bowed his head.
"How are you doing, son?"
"I've thought it over."
Mr. X waited for the answer, surprised by how much he cared about what it was going to be.
"I want to work for you."
Mr. X smiled. "That's good, son. That's real good."
"So what do I have to do? Are there papers I have to fill out for the academy?"
"It's a bit more involved than that. And the academy isn't really going to be your employer."
"But I thought you said1-"
"Billy, there are a few more things you're going to have to understand. And there's the little detail of an initiation."
"You mean hazing? Because that's no problem. I've been through a couple already. For football."
"It's a little more hard-core than that, I'm afraid. But don't worry, I got through it and I know you'll do fine. I'll tell you what you have to bring with you, and I'll be by your side. The whole time."
After all, watching the Omega go to work was not something to be missed.
"Sensei, I, ah" Riddle cleared his throat. "I just want you to know, I'm not going to let you down."
Mr. X smiled slowly, thinking this was the very best part of his job.
He stood up and approached Billy. Putting a hand on Riddle's shoulder, he squeezed the bones and stared into the wide blue eyes that met his.
Billy slipped nicely into a trance.
Mr. X leaned forward and carefully removed Riddle's diamond earring. Then he took the soft lobe between his thumb and forefinger, massaging it.
His voice was low and quiet.
"I want you to call and tell your father that you are moving out, effective immediately. Tell him that you've found a job and that you are going into an intensive training program."
Mr. X took off Riddle's stainless-steel Rolex and then pulled the collar of the guy's shirt open. He reached inside, following the platinum chain Billy wore around to the back. He released the necklace, sliding the links free until he captured them in his palm. The metal was warm from lying against skin.
"When you speak with your father, you will remain calm no matter what he says to you. You will reassure him that your future is a promising one and that you have been chosen out of many applicants for a very important role. You will tell him that he may always reach you on your cell phone, but that it will be impossible for him to see you, as you will be traveling."
Mr. X ran his hand over Billy's chest, feeling the pads of muscle, the warmth of life, the hum of youth. Such power in this body, he thought. Such marvelous force.
"You will not mention the academy. You will not reveal my identity. And you will not tell him that you are coming to live with me." Mr. X spoke right into Billy's ear. "You will tell your father that you are sorry for all the evil things you did. You will tell him that you love him. And then I will pick you up and take you away."
As Billy breathed deeply in peaceful surrender, Mr. X remembered his own induction ceremony. For a brief, passing instant, he wished that he'd thought more carefully about the offer he'd accepted decades ago.
He'd be an old man now. An old man with grandchildren, maybe, if he'd ever found a woman he could have stood to be around for any length of time. And he would have had an average life, maybe worked at one of the paper mills or at a gas station. He would have been one of a hundred million other anonymous men who were bitched at by their wives and who drank with their buddies and who passed their precious days in a haze of ambient dissatisfaction because they were nothing special.