Rehv looked up as the door to his office opened. As his chief security officer came in, he could smell the lingering scent of O'Neal on her and he smiled a little. He liked being right. "Thanks for taking care of Butch."
Xhex's gray eyes were direct as always. "I wouldn't have if I hadn't wanted him."
"And I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't known that. Now, where are we?"
She sat down opposite his desk, her powerful body as hard as the marble he was resting his elbows on. "Nonconsensual sex in the mezzanine men's room. I took care of it. The woman is pressing charges."
"Was the guy walking after you were through with him?"
"Yeah, but he was wearing a new pair of earrings, if you know what I mean. I also found two minors on the premises and kicked them out. And one of the bouncers was taking kickbacks from the line, so I fired him."
"Anything else?"
"We had another OD."
"Shit. Not our product, though, right?"
"Nope. Outside junk." She pulled a small cellophane bag out of the back pocket of her leathers and tossed it on his desk. "I managed to snag this before the EMTs arrived. I'm hiring some extra staff to deal with the situation."
"Good. You find that freelancer, you bring his ass to me. I want to take care of him personally."
"Will do."
"You got anything more for me?"
In the silence that followed, Xhex leaned forward and linked her hands together. Her body was all tight muscle, nothing but hard angles except for her high, small breasts. She was deliciously hermaphroditic, although fully a female so far as he'd heard.
The cop should feel lucky, he thought. Xhex didn't have sex that often, and then only when she found the male worthy.
She also didn't waste time. Usually. "Xhex, talk."
"I want to know something."
Rehv eased back in his chair. "Is this going to piss me off?"
"Yup. Are you looking for a mate?"
As his eyes started to glow purple, he tilted his chin down and stared at her from under his brows. "Who said I was? And I want the name."
"Deduction, not gossip. According to GPS records, your Bentley's been by Havers's a lot lately. I happen to know Marissa is unattached. She's beautiful. Complicated. But you've never cared about the glymera. You thinking about mating her?"
"Not at all," he lied.
"Good." As Xhex's eyes nailed into him, it was obvious she knew the truth. "Because it would be crazy for you to give it a shot. She'd find out about youand I'm not talking about what goes down here. She's a member of the Princeps Council, for chrissakes. If she knew you were a symphath, that would compromise both of us."
Rehv rose to his feet and palmed his cane. "The Brotherhood already knows about me."
"How?" Xhex breathed.
He thought about the little lip/fang thing he and the Brother, Phury, had shared and decided to keep that on the down-low. "They just do. And now that my sister's mated to a Brother, I'm a member of the frickin' family. So even if the Princeps Council found out, those warriors would keep them at bay."
Too bad his blackmailer was unaffected by the ways of the Normals. Symphaths, he was learning, made very bad enemies. No wonder his kind were hated.
"You sure about that?" Xhex said.
"It would kill Bella if I were sent to one of those colonies. You think that hellren of hers would stand for her being upset like that, especially as she's pregnant? Z's one mean-ass motherfucker and he is very protective of her. So, yeah, I'm sure."
"She ever guessed about you?"
"No." And though Zsadist knew, he wasn't going to tell his mate. No way he'd put Bella in that position. Laws read that if you knew of a symphath you had to report him or her or face prosecution.
Rehv came around the desk, relying on his cane now that Xhex was the only one around. The dopamine he shot himself up with regularly kept the worst of the symphath urges at bay, enabling him to pass for a Normal. He wasn't sure how Xhex managed it. Wasn't sure he wanted to know. But the thing was, with his sense of touch gone, he had to use a cane or he was liable to fall. After all, depth perception got you only so far when you couldn't feel your feet or legs.
"You don't worry," he said. "No one knows what either one of us are. And it's going to stay that way."
Gray eyes stared up at him. "Are you feeding her, Rehv." Not a question. A demand. "Are you feeding Marissa?"
"That's my business, not yours."
She shot to her feet. "Goddamn youwe agreed. Twenty-five years ago when I had my little problem, we agreed. No mates. No feeding with Normals. What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm in control and this conversation is over." He checked his watch. "And what do you know, it's closing time and you need a break. The Moors can lock up."
She glared at him for a moment. "I don't leave until the job is done"
"I'm telling you to go home, not being nice. I'll see you tomorrow night."
"No offense, but fuck you, Rehvenge."
She stalked over to the door, moving like the killer she was. As he watched her go, he was reminded that this security stuff for him was nothing compared to what she was capable of.
"Xhex," he said, "maybe we were wrong about the mating."
She sent an are-you-stupid? frown over her shoulder. "You shoot yourself up twice a day. You think Marissa wouldn't notice that eventually? How about the fact that you have to go to her brother the good doctor for the neuromodulator you rely on? Besides, what would an aristocrat like her say about all this?" She swept her arm around his office. "We weren't wrong. You're just forgetting the whys of it all."
The door eased shut behind her and Rehv looked down at his numb body. He pictured Marissa, so pure and beautiful, so different from the other females he was around, so different from Xhex who he fed from.
He wanted Marissa, was half in love with her at this point. And the male in him wanted to claim what was his even though his drugs made him impotent. Except surely he wouldn't hurt what he loved, even if his dark parts were out? Right?
He thought of her, wearing her lovely haute couture gowns, so properly dressed, so genteel, so clean. The glymera was wrong about her. She wasn't defective; she was perfect.
He smiled, his body flushing up with a burn that only hardcore orgasms could douse. It was getting to be that time of the month, so she would be calling him soon. Yeah, she would need him again soon. As his blood was diluted, she had to feed with gratifying frequency, and the last time had been almost three weeks ago.
She would be calling him within days. And he couldn't wait to be of service to her.
V got back to the Brotherhood's compound with minutes to spare, materializing just outside the gatehouse's front door. He'd hoped his kind of sex would have taken the edge off of him, but no, he was still bladed as shit.
He went through the Pit's vestibule and disarmed along the way, all tensed up and so ready for a shower to get the smell of the female off him. He should have been hungry; instead, all he wanted was some Grey Goose.
"Butch, my man!" he called out.
Silence.
V walked down the hall to the cop's bedroom. "You crashed?"
He pushed open the door. The king-sized bed was empty. So maybe the cop was up at the main house?
V jogged through the Pit and put his head out through the vestibule's door. A quick glance around at the cars parked in the courtyard and his heart went snare drum on him. No Escalade. So Butch wasn't at the compound.
With the sky beginning to lighten off to the east, the glow of day stung V's eyes, so he ducked back into the house and sat down behind his bank of computers. Firing up the coordinates on the Escalade, he saw that the SUV was parked behind Screamer's.
Which was good. At least Butch wasn't wrapped around a tree
V froze. Slowly, he pushed his hand into the back pocket of his leathers, a horrible feeling coming over him, hot and prickly like a rash. Flipping open the Razr, he accessed his voice mail. First message was a hang-up from Butch's number.
As the second message clicked on, the Pit's steel shutters started to come down for the day.
V frowned. There was only a hissing sound coming from the voice mail. But then a clatter had him yanking the phone away from his ear.
Now Butch's voice, hard, loud: "Dematerialize. Dematerialize now."
A scared male: "Butbut"
"Now! For fuck's sake, get your ass out of here" Sounds of muffled flapping.
"Why are you doing this? You're just a human"
"I am so sick of hearing that. Leave!"
There was a metallic shifting, a gun being reloaded.
Butch's voice: "Oh, shit"
Then all hell broke loose. Gunshots, grunts, thuds.
V leaped up from his desk so fast he knocked his chair over. Only to realize he was trapped inside by daylight.
Chapter Four
The first thing Butch thought when he came around was that someone needed to turn that faucet off. The drip, drip, drip was annoying.
Then he cracked an eyelid and realized his own blood was pulling the Kohler routine. Oh right. He'd been beaten and he was leaking.
This had been a long, long, very bad day. How many hours had he been interrogated? Twelve? Felt like a thousand.
He tried to take a deep breath, but some of his ribs were broken, so he picked hypoxia over more pain. Man, thanks to his captor's attentions, everything hurt like a motherfucker, but at least the lesser had sealed up that gunshot wound.
Just to keep questioning going longer.
The only saving grace to the nightmare was that not one thing about the Brotherhood had passed his lips. Not a thing. Even when the slayer went to work on his fingernails and between his legs. Butch was going to die soon, but at least he could look Saint Peter in the eye and know he wasn't a squealer when he got to heaven.
Or had he died and gone to hell? Was that what all this was about? Given some of the shit he'd pulled on earth, he could see why he'd ended up in the devil's guesthouse. But then wouldn't his torturer have horns, like devils did?
Okay, he was flirting with Looney Tunes here.
He opened his eyes a little farther, figuring it was time to try to separate reality from mind-grinding nonsense. He had a feeling this was probably his last shot at consciousness, so he should make it count.
Vision was blurry. Hands feet yup, chained down. And he was still lying on something hard, a table. Room was dark. Dirt smell meant he was probably in a basement. Bald lightbulb revealed yeah, the torture tool kit. He looked away from the spread of sharp things, shuddering.
What was that sound? A dim roar. Getting louder. Louder.
As soon as it was cut off, a door opened upstairs and Butch heard a man say in a muffled voice, "Master."
Soft reply. Indistinct. Then a conversation, with one set of footsteps pacing around, causing dust to filter down from the floorboards. Eventually, another door squeaked open, and the stairs next to him started to creak.
Butch broke out in a cold sweat and lowered his eyelids. Through the cracks between his lashes, he watched what came at him.
First guy was the lesser who'd been working him out, the guy from over the summer, from the Caldwell Martial Arts AcademyJoseph Xavier was his name, if Butch remembered correctly. The other was draped from head to foot in a brilliant white robe, his face and hands completely covered. Looked like some kind of monk or priest.
Except that was no man of God under there. As Butch absorbed the person's vibe, he couldn't breathe from his repulsion. Whatever was hidden by that robe was distilled evil, the kind that mobilized serial killers and rapists and murderers and people who enjoyed beating their children: hatred and malevolence in an upright, solid form.
Butch's fear level shot through the roof. He could handle being knocked around; the pain was bitch, but there was a definable end point marked by when his heart stopped beating. But whatever was hiding under that robe held mysteries of suffering the likes of which were biblical. And how did he know? His whole body was revolting, his instincts firing off to run, save himself pray.
Words came to him, marching through his mind. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
The robed figure's hood turned toward Butch with the boneless swivel of an owl's head.
Butch slammed his lids shut and hurried through the Twenty-third Psalm. Faster needed to get the words into his mind, faster. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake
"This man is the one?" The voice that reverberated through the basement tripped Butch up, making him lose his rhythm: It was resonant and carried an echo, something out of a sci-fi movie with all that eerie distortion.
"His gun had the Brotherhood's bullets in it."
Get back to the Psalm. And do it faster. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil
"I know you wake, human." The echoing voice shot right into Butch's ear. "Look upon me and know your captor's master."
Butch opened his eyes, turned his head, and swallowed compulsively. The face staring down into his was condensed blackness, a shadow come to life.
The Omega.
The Evil laughed a little. "So you know what I am, do you?" It straightened. "Given you anything, has he, Fore-lesser?"
"I'm not finished."
"Ah, so that is no. And you have worked him well, given how close to death he is. Yes, I can feel it coming to him. So close." The Omega bent down again and inhaled the air over Butch's body. "Yes, within the hour. Maybe less."
"He'll last as long as I want him to."
"No, he won't." The Omega started to circle the table and Butch tracked the movement, terror getting tighter and tighter, strengthening in the centrifugal force of the Evil's pacing. Around, around, around Butch trembled so badly his teeth clapped together.
The shaking dried up the second the Omega came to a halt at the far end of the table. Shadowy hands lifted up, grasped the white robe's hood, and pulled it off. Overhead, the bald light-bulb flickered as if its illumination were sucked in by the black form.
"You are letting him go," the Omega said, that voice like a wave, filtered and enhanced by the air in turns. "You are leaving him out in the woods. You are telling the others to stay away from him."
What? Butch thought.
"What?" the Fore-lesser said.
"The Brotherhood has among its weaknesses a paralyzing loyalty, do they not? Yes, paralyzing fidelity. They claim what is theirs. It is the animal in them." The Omega held out its hand. "A knife, please. I am of a mind to make this human useful."
"You just said he was going to die."
"But I'm going to give him a little life, as it were. As well, as a gift. Knife."
Butch's eyes cracked wide open as an eight-inch hunting number changed hands.
The Omega placed one hand on the table, put the blade to the tip of its finger, and bore down. There was a crack, like a carrot had been cut.
The Omega leaned over Butch. "Where to hide, where to hide"
As the knife came up and hovered over Butch's abdomen, Butch screamed. And he was still screaming as a shallow slice was made into his belly. Then the Omega picked up the little part of itself, the black digit.
Butch fought, yanking against the binds. Horror had his eyes bulging until the pressure on his optic nerve blinded him.
The Omega inserted its fingertip into Butch's gut, then bent low and blew over the fresh cut. The skin sealed up, the flesh knitting together. Immediately, Butch felt the rotting inside him, sensed the evil worming around, moving. He lifted his head. The skin around the cut was already turning gray.
Tears raced to his eyes. Seeped down his raw cheeks.
"Release him."
The Fore-lesser went to work on the chains, but when they were off, Butch realized he couldn't move. He was paralyzed.
"I will take him," the Omega said. "And he will survive and find his way back to the Brotherhood."
"They'll sense you."
"Perhaps, but they will take him."
"He'll tell them."
"No, because he won't remember me." The Omega's face tilted toward Butch. "You won't remember a thing."
As their stares met, Butch could feel the affinity between them, could sense the bond, the sameness. He wept for the violation of himself, but more for the Brotherhood. They would take him in. They would try to help him in whatever way they could.
And sure as the evil in him, he would end up betraying them.
Except maybe Vishous or the brothers wouldn't find him. How could they? And with no clothes on, surely he would die from exposure fast.
The Omega reached out and wiped the tears from one of Butch's cheeks. The shimmer of wetness was iridescent against those translucent black fingers, and Butch wanted what had come out of him back. Not to be. Lifting the hand to its mouth, the Evil savored Butch's pain and fear, licking sucking.
Despair scrambled Butch's memory, but the faith he'd thought he'd foresworn spit out another line of the Psalm: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
But that was no longer possible now, was it? He had evil inside him, under his skin.
The Omega smiled, though Butch didn't know how he knew it. "Pity we don't have more time, as you are in a fragile state. But there will be opportunities for you and me in the future. What I claim as my own always comes back to me. Now, sleep."
And like a lamp being clicked off, Butch did.
"Answer the fucking question, Vishous." V looked away from his king just as the grandfather clock in the corner of the study started to go off. It stopped at four chimes, so it was four in the afternoon. The Brotherhood had been in Wrath's command central all day long, prowling around the ridiculously elegant Louis XIV salon, saturating the delicate air of the place with their anger.
"Vishous," Wrath growled, "I'm waiting, How will you know how to find the cop? And why didn't you mention this before now?"
Because he'd known it was going to create problems, and their shopping cart of shit was already full.
As V tried to think of what he could say, he looked at his brothers. Phury was on the pale blue silk couch in front of the fireplace, his body dwarfing the piece of furniture, his multicolored hair now back down past his jawline. Z was behind his twin, up against the mantel, his eyes back to black because he was enraged. Rhage was by the door, his beautiful face set in a nasty expression, his shoulders twitching as if his inner beast was likewise rip shit pissed.
And then there was Wrath. Behind a dainty desk, the Blind King was all menace, his cruel visage set hard, his weak eyes hidden behind black-framed wraparounds. His heavy forearms, marked on the insides with tattoos of his pure-blooded lineage, were planted on a gold-embossed blotter.
That Tohr was not with the group was a gaping wound to all of them.
"V? Answer the question or so help me God I'll beat it out of you."
"I just know how to find him."
"What are you hiding?"
V went over to the bar, poured himself a couple fingers of Grey Goose, and hammered the shot. He swallowed a number of times and then let the words fly.
"I fed him."
A chorus of inhales floated around the room. As Wrath rose in disbelief, V poured himself another hit of Goose.
"You did what?" The last word was bellowed.
"I had him drink some of me."
"Vishous" Wrath stalked around the desk, shitkickers hitting the floor like boulders. The king got face-to-face close. "He's a male. He's human. What the fuck were you thinking?" More vodka. Definitely time for more Goose.
V swallowed the shot and poured number four. "With my blood in him, I can find him and that's why I had him drink. I saw that I was supposed to. So I did it, and I would do it again."
Wrath wheeled away and paced around the room, hands cranked into fists. As the boss man walked off frustration, the rest of the Brotherhood looked over with curiosity.
"I did what I had to," V snapped, throwing his glass back.
Wrath stopped by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The thing was shuttered for the day, no light coming through. "Did he take your vein?"
"No."
A couple of the brothers cleared their throats, like they were urging him to be honest.
V cursed and poured some more. "Oh, for God's sake, it's not like that with him. I gave him some in a glass. He didn't know what he was drinking."
"Shit, V," Wrath muttered, "you could have killed him outright"
"It was three months ago. He got through it, so there's no harm done"
Wrath's voice rang out loud as an air strike. "You violated the law! Feeding a human! Christ! What am I supposed to do with this?"
"You want to serve me up to the Scribe Virgin, I'll go willingly. But I want to be clear. First, I find Butch and bring him home, dead or alive."
Wrath popped up his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes, a habit he'd developed lately when he got tired of the king shit. "If he was interrogated, he may have talked. We could be compromised."
V looked down into his glass and slowly shook his head. "He'd die before giving us up. I guarantee it." He swallowed the vodka and felt it slide down his throat. "My man is good like that."
Chapter Five
Rehvenge had not seemed at all surprised when she called him, Marissa thought. But then, he'd always had this uncanny way of reading her.
Gathering up her black cloak, she stepped out the back of her brother's mansion. Night had just fallen, and she shivered, though not because of the cold. It was that horrible dream she'd had during the day. She'd been flying, flying across the landscape, flying over a frozen pond with pines on its far side, going farther past a ring of trees, until she'd slowed and peered downward. On the snowy ground, curled up and bleeding, she saw Butch.
The urge to call the Brotherhood lingered as much as the images of the nightmare did. Except how stupid would she feel when the warriors called back all annoyed, just to tell her he was perfectly fine? They'd probably think she was stalking him. Except, God that vision of him bleeding into the white-covered earth, that picture of him, helpless in the fetal position, haunted her.
It was only a dream, though. Merely a dream.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself into a semblance of calm and dematerialized downtown to the terrace of a penthouse apartment some thirty stories up. As soon as she took form, Rehvenge slid open one of six glass doors.
He immediately frowned. "You're upset."
She forced a smile as she went over to him. "You know I'm always a little uncomfortable."
He pointed his gold engraved cane at her. "No, this is different."
God, she'd never known anyone so in tune with her emotions. "I'll be fine."
As he took her elbow and pulled her inside, a tropical warmth embraced her. Rehv always had the temperature this high, and his floor length sable coat always stayed on until they got to the couch. She had no idea how he could stand the heat, but he seemed to crave it.
He shut the slider. "Marissa, I want to know what's doing."
"Nothing, really."
With a twist, she took off her cloak and draped it on a chrome-and-black chair. Three sides of the penthouse were made up of sheets of glass, and the sprawling view of Caldwell's two halves showed the shimmering lights of downtown, the dark curve of the Hudson River, the stars over it all. The decor was minimalist, all ebony and cream elegance rather like Rehv, with his black mohawk and his golden skin and his perfect clothes.
Under different circumstances, she would have adored the penthouse.
Under different circumstances, she might have adored him.
Rehv's violet eyes narrowed as he leaned on his cane and came to her. He was a huge male, built like a Brother, and he had looming down pat, his handsome face hard. "Don't lie to me."
She smiled slightly. Males like him tended to be very protective, and though the two of them were not mated, she wasn't surprised he seemed ready to hunt something down on her behalf. "I had a disturbing dream this morning and haven't shaken it off yet. That's all."
As he measured her, she had the oddest sense he was sifting through her emotions, examining how they interconnected from the inside.
"Give me your hand," he said.
She reached out with no hesitation. He always observed the glymera's formalities, and he hadn't yet greeted her as custom required. Except when their palms met, he didn't brush his lips across hers in a kiss. He put his thumb over her wrist and pushed down a little. Then even harder. Suddenly, as if he'd opened up some kind of drain, her feelings of fear and worry tunneled down her arm and out to him, pulled through by the contact.
"Rehvenge?" she whispered weakly.
The instant he let her go, the emotions came back, a well-spring no longer tapped.
"You won't be able to be with me tonight."
She flushed and rubbed the skin where he'd touched her. "Of course I will. It's time."
To get them started, she went to the black leather couch they usually used and stood beside it. After a moment, Rehvenge came over to her and took off his sable coat, slinging the fur out flat for them to lie on. Then he unbuttoned his black suit coat and removed it as well. His fine silk shirt, which seemed so very white, parted down the middle at his fingertips and then the heavy, hairless expense of his chest was revealed. Tattoos marked his pecs, two five-pointed stars in black ink, and there were more designs on his ribbed stomach.
As he sat down and eased back into the couch's arms, his muscles flexed. Looking up at her, his glowing amethyst stare drew her in, and so did his hand as he extended his arm and crooked his forefinger at her. "Come here, tahlly. I've got what you need."
She lifted the skirt of her gown and climbed between his legs. Rehv always insisted she take from his throat, but in the three times they had done this, he had never once been aroused. Which was a relief as well as a reminder. Wrath had never had an erection when he was near her either.
As she glanced down at Rehv's smooth-skinned male glory, the low-level hunger she had been feeling for the past few days hit hard. She put her palms on his pecs and arched over him, watching as he closed his eyes, tilted his chin to the side, and ran his hands up her arms. A soft groan left his lips, which was something he always did right before she struck. In another situation, she would have said it was anticipation, but she knew that wasn't true. His body was always flaccid, and she couldn't believe he liked being used that much.
She opened her mouth, her fangs elongating, extending downward from her upper jaw. Leaning into Rehv, she
The image of Butch in the snow froze her, and she had to shake her head to refocus on Rehv's throat and her hunger.
Feed, she told herself. Take what he offers.
She tried again, only to stop with her mouth on his neck. As she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, Rehv put his hand under her chin and lifted her head up.
"Who is he, tahlly?" Rehv's thumb stroked her bottom lip. "Who is this male you love who won't feed you? And I'm going to be totally insulted if you don't tell me."
"Oh, Rehvenge it's no one you know."
"He is a fool."
"No. I am the fool."
With an unexpected surge, Rehv pulled her down to his mouth. She was so shocked, she gasped, and in an erotic rush, his tongue entered her. He kissed her with skill, all smooth moves and sliding penetrations. She felt no arousal but could tell what kind of lover he would be: dominant, powerful thorough.
When she pushed against his chest, he let her break the contact.
As Rehv eased back, his amethyst eyes glowed, a beautiful purple light pouring out of them, pouring into her. Though she felt no erection at his hips, the trembling that ran throughout his big, muscular body told her he was a male with sex on his mind and in his bloodand that he wanted to penetrate her.
"You look so surprised," he drawled.
Considering the way most males regarded her, she was. "That was unexpected. Especially as I didn't think you could"
"I am capable of mating with a female." His lids dropped, and for a moment he looked frightening. "Under certain circumstances."