She was going to taste so sweet, he thought, preparing to go deeper while still keeping a chain on himself.
But Marissa jumped the gun. She captured his tongue with her mouth and sucked on it.
Butch groaned, his hips jerking up from the chair.
She broke off the kiss. "You didn't like that? I liked it when you did that to my finger last night."
He yanked at his collar. Where the hell was all the air in this part of North America?
"Butch?"
"I liked it," he said in a guttural croak. "Trust me. I really liked it."
"Then I would do it again."
She lunged forward and took his mouth in a blazing kiss, pressing him back into the wicker, hitting him like a ton of bricks. He was in such shock, all he could do was grip the chair's arms. Her onslaught was powerful. Erotic. Hotter than Hades. She practically crawled onto his chest as she explored his mouth, and he braced his body, throwing his weight into his palms.
Suddenly, there was a loud snapping sound.
And then he rolled onto the floor with her.
"What the f-" Butch lifted his left hand. And up came the wicker arm he'd taken hold of.
He'd ripped the side off the chair.
"You okay?" he said breathlessly, tossing the thing away.
"Oh, yes." She smiled up at him. Her dress was caught in his legs. And her body was tight against him. Almost where he needed it to be.
As he looked at her, he was ready for it all, ready to get under that dress, part her thighs with his hips, and bury himself in her heat until they were both totally lost.
Except in his current state, he was liable to take her hard, not make love to her properly. And he was crazed enough to do it here, on the porch, in the open.
So it was way time for a break.
"Let's get you off the floor," he said roughly.
Marissa moved faster than he did, practically springing to her feet. When she held her hand out to help him up, he took it to humor her. Only to find himself plucked from the floor as if he weighed no more than a newspaper.
He smiled as he brushed off his jacket. "You're stronger than you look."
She seemed embarrassed and took care to check her dress. "Not really."
"That's not a bad thing, Marissa."
Her eyes came back to his and then slowly drifted down his body.
With a shot of embarrassment, he realized his raging erection made a tent out of his pants. He turned away so he could rearrange himself.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing." He faced her, wondering if his pulse was ever going to slow down.
Man, he wasn't going to need a stress test anytime soon. If his heart could get through a kiss from her, he could probably run a marathon.
While dragging a car behind him.
Sideways to the road.
"I liked that," she said.
He had to laugh. "So did I. But it's hard to believe you're a vir-"
Butch slammed his mouth closed. Rubbed his thumb over his eyebrows.
No wonder he didn't date. He had the social skills of a chimp.
"Just so you know," he muttered, "I put my foot in it sometimes. But I'll work on this for you."
"Foot in it?"
"Blurt shit out. Stuff. I mean Hell." He looked to the door. "Listen, how about we head down and see what's doing with the party?"
Because if he stayed up here one minute longer, he was going to be all over her.
"Butch?"
He glanced back at her. "Yeah, baby?"
Her eyes flashed, and she licked her lips. "I want more of you."
Butch stopped breathing. And wondered if she was thinking about his blood.
Looking into her beautiful face, he relived what it felt like to get pushed back into that chair. And he imagined that instead of kissing him, she was sinking those pearly white fangs of hers deep into his neck.
He could think of no better way to go than in her arms.
"Whatever you want of me," he murmured, "you can have."
Chapter Forty-four
Wrath watched as Billy Riddle walked out of the mansion and struck a pose against the columns in front. The guy put down a duffel bag and looked up at the sky.
"Perfect," Wrath said to Vishous. "Enough time to kill him and get back."
But before he and V stepped out of the shadows, a black Hummer came up the circular drive. As it passed them, the sweet smell of baby powder floated out one of its windows.
"You've got to be kidding me," Wrath murmured.
"That's a lesser, my brother."
"And what do you want to bet he's doing some recruiting?"
"Good candidate."
Billy hopped inside, and the SUV began to move.
"We should have taken my car," V hissed. "Then we could have followed them."
"There's no time for a trail. The Scribe Virgin's showing up at midnight. We do this now. Here."
Wrath leaped in front of the Hummer, planting his hands on the hood and pushing the SUV to a stop. He glared through the front windshield while Vishous approached from the lateral, sidling up to the driver's door.
Wrath smiled as the engine was put in park. Inside, he could detect both fear and anticipation. He knew which one was Billy Riddle's. The guy was edgy. The lesser, on the other hand, was ready to fight.
But there was something else. Something that didn't feel quite right.
Wrath quickly glanced around. "Watch yourself, V."
The roar of a car engine broke through the night, and the whole lot of them got blasted with headlights.
A nondescript American sedan heaved to a stop, and two men jumped out with guns drawn.
"State police. Put your hands up. You in the car. Get out."
Wrath watched the driver's-side door. What emerged was big and intense. And under the scent of baby powder, the lesser stank of evil.
As the society member lifted his hands, it stared at the insignia on Wrath's jacket. "My God. I thought you were a myth. The Blind King."
Wrath bared his fangs. "Nothing you've heard about me is a myth."
The lesser's eyes flashed. "I'm positively inspired."
"And I'm heartbroken that we gotta split now. But we'll be seeing you and that new recruit again. Soon."
Wrath nodded to Vishous, swept clean the memories of the humans, and dematerialized.
Mr. X was in awe.
The Blind King lived.
There had been stories circulating for centuries about him, legends really, but there hadn't been a confirmed sighting since Mr. X had joined the society. In fact, rumors had even abounded that the regal warrior had died, extrapolations based primarily on the disintegration of vampire society.
But no, the king was alive.
Good God. Now that would be a prize to lay at the Omega's altar.
"I told you he was coming," Billy was saying to the staties. "He's my martial-arts teacher. Why did you pull us over?"
The officers holstered their guns, focusing on Mr. X.
"May I see some identification, sir?" one of them asked.
Mr. X smiled and handed over his driver's license. "Billy and I are just going out for dinner. Maybe a movie."
The man studied the picture and then his face. "Mr. Xavier, here's your license back. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"Not a problem, Officer."
Mr. X and Billy got back into the Hummer.
Riddle cursed. "They're such idiots. Why did they stop us?"
Because we got jumped by two vampires, Mr. X thought. You just don't remember it, and neither do those two guys with the badges.
Tricky mind games. Tricky, tricky.
"What are the state police doing here?" Mr. X asked as he put the SUV in gear.
"My dad got another terrorist threat, and he's decided to leave D.C. for a little while. He's coming home tonight, and they'll be crawling all over the place until he goes back to the capital."
"Did you talk with your father?"
"Yeah. He actually seemed relieved."
"I'm sure he is."
Billy reached into his duffel bag. "I got what you said I needed."
He held up a wide-necked ceramic jar with a lid.
"That's good, Billy. Perfect size."
"What's going in it?"
Mr. X smiled. "You'll find out. Are you hungry?"
"Naw. Too pumped for food." Billy clapped his palms together and squeezed, flexing his muscles. "Just so you know, I don't crack easy. Whatever goes down tonight, I'll stay tight."
We'll just see about that, Mr. X thought as he headed for his house. They were going to do the ceremony in the barn, and the torture table was going to be a big help. He could tie Billy down easier that way.
As the city dissolved and the farm country eased up around the road, Mr. X found himself smiling.
The Blind King.
In Caldwell.
Mr. X glanced over at Riddle.
In Caldwell and looking for Billy.
Now why would that be?
Chapter Forty-five
Beth was back in The Dress. And loving it. "I don't have shoes," she said.
Wellsie took another hairpin out of her mouth and slid it into Beth's chignon.
"You're not supposed to be wearing any. Okay, let me see how you look." Wellsie smiled as Beth danced around her father's bedroom, red satin skirting flaring like fire around her.
"I'm going to cry." Wellsie covered her mouth with her hand. "I know it. As soon as he sees you, I'm going to start crying. You're just too beautiful, and this is the first happy thing since I don't know when."
Beth stopped, the gown fluttering to rest. "Thank you. For everything."
Wellsie shook her head. "Don't be nice to me, or I'll start with the tears right now."
"I mean it. I feel like I don't know, I'm marrying into a family. And I've never really had one before."
Wellsie's nose reddened. "We are your family. You're one of us. Now stop it, will you? Before you get me going."
Someone pounded on the door.
"Is everything okay in there?" came a male voice from the other side.
Wellsie went over and put her head out, keeping the door mostly shut. "Yes, Tohr. Are the brothers all lined up?"
"What the-Have you been crying?" Tohrment demanded. "Are you all right? Dear God, is it the baby?"
"Tohr, relax. I'm a female, I cry at matings. It's in the job description."
There was the sound of a kiss.
"I just don't want anything to upset you, leelan."
'Then tell me the brothers are ready."
"We are."
"Good. I'll bring her out."
"Leelan? "
"What?"
There were low words spoken in their beautiful language.
"Yes, Tohr," Wellsie whispered. "And after two hundred years, I'd mate you again. In spite of the fact that you snore and you leave your weapons all over our bedroom."
The door shut, and Wellsie turned around. "They're ready for you. Shall we?"
Beth tugged at the bodice. Looked down at her ruby ring. "I never thought I'd do this."
"Life is full of wonderful surprises, isn't it?"
"It certainly is."
They walked out of her father's bedroom and into Wrath's chamber.
All the furniture had been emptied out, and where the bed had been, Wrath's brothers were lined up against the wall. They were a magnificent sight, wearing identical black satin jackets and loose pants with jeweled daggers hanging on their hips.
There was a collective inhale as the assembly noticed her. The brothers shifted, looked down. Looked back at her. Bashful smiles actually broke out across those harsh faces.
Well, except for Zsadist's. He glanced at her once and then just stared at the floor.
Butch, Marissa, and Fritz stood to one side. She gave them a little wave. Fritz took out a handkerchief.
And there was someone else in the room.
A tiny person draped in black from head to toe. Even the face was covered.
Beth frowned. Under the folds of black, there was a pool of light on the floor. As if the figure were glowing.
But where was Wrath?
Wellsie led her over until she was standing in front of the men. The one with the gorgeous hair, Phury, stepped forward.
Beth glanced down, trying to collect herself, and noticed that he had a prosthesis where one foot should have been.
She looked up into his yellow eyes, not wanting to stare. When he smiled, she found herself calming a little.
His voice was rich, his words evenly spoken. "We're going to do as much of this in English as we can, so you'll understand. Are you ready to start?"
She nodded.
"My lord, come forward," he called out.
Beth looked over her shoulder.
Wrath materialized in the hall doorway, and she put her hand to her mouth. He was resplendent, wearing a sashed black robe that was embroidered with dark thread. A long, gold-handled dagger hung at his side, and there was a circle of rubies set in some kind of matte-finished metal on his head.
As he strode forward, moving with the grace she loved, his hair flared in waves that fell past his thick shoulders.
He looked at no one but her.
When he was standing before her, he whispered, "You take my breath away."
She started to cry.
Wrath's face was worried as he reached out. "Leelan, what's the matter?"
Beth shook her head and felt Wellsie tuck a Kleenex into her hand.
"She's fine," the woman said. "Trust me, she's fine. Aren't you?"
Beth nodded and blotted under her eyes. "Yes."
Wrath touched her cheek. "We can stop this."
"No!" she shot back. "I love you, and we're going to get married. Right now."
Some of the brothers laughed softly. "Guess we're straight on that," one of them said with respect in his voice.
When she was under control again, Wrath looked over at Phury and nodded.
"We're going to make the presentation to the Scribe Virgin first," the brother said.
Wrath took her hand and led her over to the robed figure.
"Scribe Virgin, this is Elizabeth, daughter of the Black Dagger warrior Darius, granddaughter of the princeps Marklon, great-granddaughter of the princeps Horusman"
The list went on for a while. When Wrath fell silent, Beth impulsively reached out to the figure, offering her hand.
There was a shout of alarm and Wrath grabbed her arm, hauling her back. Several of the brothers leaped forward.
"That's my fault," Wrath said, splaying his arms out as if to protect her. "I didn't adequately prepare her. She meant no offense."
A laugh-low, warm, and feminine-came out of the robes. "Fear not, warrior. She's fine. Come here, female."
Wrath moved aside, but stayed close.
Beth approached the figure, worried about every move she made. She could feel herself being surveyed.
'This male asks that you accept him as your hellren, child. Would you have him as your own if he is worthy?"
"Oh, yes." Beth looked at Wrath. He was still tense. "Yes, I will."
The figure nodded. "Warrior, this female will consider you. Will you prove yourself for her?"
"I will." Wrath's deep voice carried throughout the room.
"Will you sacrifice yourself for her?"
"I will."
"Will you defend her against those who would seek to harm her?"
"I will."
"Give me your hand, child."
Beth reached out tentatively.
"Palm up," Wrath whispered.
She flipped her wrist. The folds moved and covered her hand. She felt an odd tingling, like a low-level electrical charge.
"Warrior."
Wrath put his hand out, and it too was obscured by the black robe.
Suddenly, warmth surrounded her, enveloped her. She looked at Wrath. He was smiling back at her.
"Ah," the figure said. "This is a good mating. A very good mating."
Their hands were dropped, and then Wrath had his arms around her and was kissing her.
People started to clap. Someone blew a nose.
Beth held on to her new husband as hard as she could. It was done. It was real. They were-
"Almost finished, leelan."
Wrath stepped back, pulling the sash on his robe free. He took the garment off, revealing his bare chest.
Wellsie came up and took Beth's hand. "It's going to be okay. Just breathe with me."
Beth glanced around nervously as Wrath knelt before his brothers and dropped his head. Fritz brought over a small table with the crystal bowl full of salt, a pitcher of water, and a small lacquer box on it.
Phury stood over Wrath. "My lord, what is the name of your shellan?"
"She is called Elizabeth."
With a rasping sound, Phury unsheathed his black dagger.
And bent down over Wrath's bare back.
Beth gasped and lunged forward as the blade descended. "No-"
Wellsie held her in place. "Stay here."
"What is he-"
"You're mating a warrior," Wellsie whispered fiercely. "Let him have his honor in front of his brothers."
"No!"
"Listen to me-Wrath is giving his body, himself, to you. All of it is yours now. That's the purpose of the ceremony."
Phury stepped back, and Beth caught a trickle of blood running down Wrath's side.
Vishous came forward. "What is the name of your shel-lan?"
"She is called Elizabeth."
As the brother leaned down, Beth shut her eyes and squeezed Wellsie's hand hard. "He doesn't need to do this to prove himself to me."
"Do you love him?" Wellsie demanded.
"Yes."
"Then you must accept his ways."
Zsadist stepped forward next.
"Easy, Z," Phury said softly, staying close beside his twin.
Oh, God, not more.
The brothers came forward again and again, asking him the question. When they were finished, Phury took the pitcher of water and poured it into the bowl of salt. Then he dumped the thick, briny liquid on Wrath's back.
Beth weaved on her feet as she watched his muscles spasm. She couldn't imagine the agony, but except for bearing down onto the floor, Wrath didn't cry out. As he endured the pain, his brothers growled their approval.
Phury bent down and opened the lacquer box, taking out a pristine white cloth. He dried the wounds, then rolled the material up and put it back inside.
"Rise, my lord," he said.
Wrath stood. Across his shoulders, in an arch of Old English letters, was her name in his skin.
Phury presented Wrath with the box. "Take this to your shellan as a symbol of your strength, so she will know that you are worthy of her and that your body, your heart, and your soul are now hers to command."
Wrath turned around. As he came toward her, she anxiously scanned his face. He was fine. Better than fine. He was positively glowing with love.
Dropping to his knees before her, he bowed his head and held up the box.
"Will you take me as your own?" he asked, looking at her over the top of the sunglasses. His pale, blind eyes were sparkling.
Her hands shook as she accepted the box from him. "Yes. I will."
Wrath rose, and she threw her arms around him, careful not to reach too far up his back.
A chant began with the brothers, a low beat of words she didn't understand.
"Are you okay?" he said into her ear.
She nodded, wondering why couldn't she have been named Mary. Or Sue.
But no, she had to be nine-letter Elizabeth.
"Can we not do that again?" she asked, burying her head into his shoulder.
Wrath laughed softly. "You'd better brace yourself if we have children."
The chanting grew louder, deep male voices pumping.
She looked to the brothers, the tall, fierce men who were now a part of her life. Wrath pivoted and put his arm around her. Together, they swayed to the rhythm that swelled, filling the air. The brothers were as one as they paid homage in their language, a single powerful entity.
But then, in a high, keening call, one voice broke out, lifting above the others, shooting higher and higher. The sound of the tenor was so clear, so pure, it brought shivers to the skin, a yearning warmth to the chest. The sweet notes blew the ceiling off with their glory, turning the chamber into a cathedral, the brothers into a tabernacle.
Bringing the very heavens close enough to touch.
It was Zsadist.
His eyes closed, his head back, his mouth wide open, he sang.
The scarred one, the soulless one, had the voice of an angel.
Chapter Forty-six
During the wedding dinner, Butch went easy on the alcohol. It wasn't hard. He was too busy enjoying Marissa's company.
As well as watching Beth with her new husband. God, she was so happy. And that mean-ass-looking vampire she'd signed on for was just the same. He wouldn't let go of her, couldn't stop staring at her. All night long, he'd had her sitting on his lap at the table, feeding her from his hand while he stroked her neck.
As the party wound down, Marissa stood up from her chair. "I have to go back to my brother's. He's expecting me for dinner, actually."
So that was why she hadn't eaten anything.
Butch frowned, not wanting her to go. "When will you be back?"
"Tomorrow night?"
Damn, that was forever.
He put his napkin down. "Well, I'll be here. Waiting for you."
Jeez, talk about whipped, he thought.
Marissa said her good-byes, and then disappeared.
Butch reached for his wineglass and tried to pretend his hand wasn't shaking. The whole blood/fang thing he could almost handle. The poofing stuff was going to take some time.
Ten minutes later, he realized he was sitting at the table alone.
He had no interest in going home. In the space of a day, he'd managed to shelve his real life, just push it into a corner of his mind. And like a gadget that had been broken, he had no interest in pulling it back out, examining it, using it again.
He looked around at all the chairs and thought of the people-er, vampires-who'd filled them.
He was an outsider in their world. An interloper.
Although it wasn't like being the odd man out was a new one for him. The other cops had been good guys, but he'd never been more than work-tight with them, even Jose. He'd never gone over to the de la Cruzes' for dinner or anything.
As he stared at the empty plates and the half-full wineglasses, he realized he had nowhere to go. Nowhere he wanted to be. The isolation had never bothered him before. Actually, it had made him feel safer somehow. So it was kind of funny that being on his own didn't seem like such a great thing now.
"Yo, cop. We're heading for Screamer's. You wanna come?"
Butch looked up at the doorway. Vishous was in the hall with Rhage and Phury behind him. The vampires had expectant looks on their faces, like they honestly wanted to hang with him.
Butch found himself grinning like the new kid who didn't have to sit alone at lunch after all.
"Yeah, I could do with a bar crawl."
As he stood up, he wondered if he should get casual. The brothers had changed into leathers, but he was loath to let the suit go. He loved the thing.
Screw it. He liked the threads; he was going to wear the threads. Even if they weren't really him.
Butch buttoned the jacket, smoothing it down over his chest. He checked to make sure the handkerchief was still in a perfect fold.
"Come on, cop, you're fabulous," Rhage said with a burning smile. "And I'm itching for some company, know what I mean?"
Yeah, he could guess.
Butch came around the table. "'Cept I gotta warn you boys. Some folks I sent up the river, they hang at Screamer's. Might get ugly."
Rhage clapped rum on the back. "Why do you think we want you to come?"
"Hell, yeah." V grinned and pulled his Sox cap down low. "Bar fight's a perfect chaser to some Grey Goose."
Butch rolled his eyes and then looked at Phury seriously. "Where's your boy?"
Phury stiffened. "Z's not coming."
Good. Butch had no problem going out with the others. He was sure that if they were going to kill him, he'd be in the ground by now. But that Zsadist guy you had to wonder when he was going to lose it. And what he was going to take out with him when he did.
But man, he could sing.
As they headed to the front door, Butch murmured, "Helluva set of pipes on that SOB. Some serious beautiful."
The brothers nodded, and Rhage slipped a meaty arm around Phury's shoulders. Phury's head dipped down low for a moment, as if he were carrying something heavy and was desperate to give his back a rest.
They went outside, heading toward a black Escalade ESV. Its lights flashed when the security system was disarmed.
"Oh, damn. I forgot." Butch pulled up short. The vampires stopped and looked at him. "Shotgun!"
As he bolted around the car, Phury and Rhage snapped into gear while cursing him to hell and back. On the other side, he got an argument, but his hand was on the door, and he wasn't budging.
"Humans ride in the back!"
"On the hood!"
"Listen, bloodsuckers, I called it-"
"V, I'm going to bite him!"
Vishous's laughter cut through the thick night air as he slid behind the steering wheel. His first move was to crank the stereo so loud, the entire SUV pulsed.
Notorious BIG's "Hypnotize."
And they could hear Biggie in Montreal, Butch thought as he climbed in.
"Damn, my brother," Rhage said, getting into the back. "This a new system?"
"Worship me, gentlemen." V lit a hand-rolled. Flipped the gold lighter shut. "And I might let you play with the buttons."
"That'd almost be worth the ass-kissing."
The headlights came on.
And Zsadist walked into the beams.
Phury immediately opened his door and made room. "You gonna bounce with us, after all?"
Zsadist gave Butch a nasty stare as he slid into the back, but Butch didn't take it personally. The vampire didn't look happy to see any of the others, either.
V threw them into reverse and gunned it.
The conversation kept up in spite of the music, but the atmosphere had changed.
Which made sense, considering there was now a live grenade in the car.
Butch glanced back at Zsadist. Black eyes glittered in return. The smile on the vampire's face was greedy for sin and ready for evil.
Havers lowered his fork as Marissa entered the dining room. He'd been worried when she was not at the table, but afraid to check her rooms. In his current frame of mind, he wouldn't have handled her being gone at all well.
"Forgive my tardiness," she said, kissing him on the cheek. She settled into her chair like a bird, arranging herself and her dress with grace. "I'm hoping we can talk."
What was that smell on her? he wondered.
"This lamb looks wonderful," she murmured as Karolyn brought in another plate of food.
Aftershave, he thought. His sister smelled like aftershave. She had been with a male.
"Where did you spend the evening?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Darius's."
He laid his napkin on the table and got to his feet. His rage was so complete, it rendered him curiously numb.
"Havers, why are you leaving?"
"As you can see, I am finished eating. I bid you good rest, sister."
She grabbed his hand. "Won't you stay?"
"I have something to take care of."
"Surely it can wait." Her eyes implored him.
"No, no longer."
Havers went into the front hall, taking pride in how calm he was. Shoring up his nerve, he dematerialized.
As he took shape again, he shuddered.
Parts of downtown were foul. Truly foul.
The alley he'd chosen was right next to one of the clubs, Screamer's. He'd heard from some of the civilian vampires whom he had treated that the brothers frequented the place. As he considered the human crowd waiting to get in, he could see why. They were an aggressive herd, reeking of lust. Depravity.
Up to the brothers' low standards for companionship, no doubt.
Havers started to lean back against the building, but thought better of it. The bricks were filthy and dripping with some kind of condensation. He could well imagine what kind of culture might be running on the slime.
He looked up and down the alley. Sooner or later, he would find what he was looking for.
Or it would find him.
Mr. X locked his front door and stepped out into the night. He was pleased with the way the ceremony had gone. Billy had been shocked as hell, to say the least, but he'd pressed through the initiation. Especially when he'd learned it was either that or he was going to be killed on the table.
God, the expression on Billy's face when he'd seen the Omega had been priceless. Nobody expected evil to look like that, and you could almost be fooled. Well, at least until the Omega's gaze fell upon you. Then you got a taste of your own death.
A little sip with the promise of a whole six-pack.
When it was over, Mr. X had carried Billy to the house, and Riddle was resting in the guest room. Kind of. He was throwing up right now, and that would last for the next couple of hours, while the Omega's blood subjugated what had been pumping in Billy's veins for his eighteen years of life. Riddle also had a chest wound. The raw gash ran from his throat down to his sternum, the skin having been soldered shut by the Omega's fingertip. That was going to hurt like hell, at least until the morning. By nightfall tomorrow, however, he'd be strong enough to go out.
Mr. X got in the Hummer and headed south. He'd told one of the prime squadrons to cover the downtown area, and he wanted to watch them in action. He hated to admit it, but perhaps Mr. O had a point about motivation. Besides, he needed to see how the group functioned in a battle situation. With Mr. M's demise, he was toying with letting Riddle fill out the ranks, eventually, but he wanted a sense of the squadron's current dynamics before he made any decisions.