Lover Revealed (31 page)

When Zsadist came out a moment later, he had Bella in his arms, her black hair trailing down his shoulder as she lounged in the strength that held her. Her eyes were locked on Z's face while he looked where he was going, her hand stroking his chest, her lips curved in a private smile.

There was a bite mark on her neck, one that had very definitely not been there before, and Bella's satisfaction as she stared at the hunger in her
hellren's
face was utterly compelling. John knew instinctively that Zsadist was going to finish two things upstairs: the mating and the feeding. The Brother was going to be at her throat and in between her legs. Probably at the same time.

God, John wanted that kind of connection.

Except what about his past? Even if he made it through his transition, how was he ever going to be that comfortable and confident with a female? Real males hadn't been through what he had, hadn't been forced at knifepoint into a hideous submission.

Hell, look at Zsadist. So strong, so powerful. Females went for that kind of thing, not weaklings like John. And there was no mistaking it. No matter how big John's body got, that's what he would always be: a weakling, marked forever by what had been done to him.

He turned away and went to the dining room table, sitting down alone in the midst of all the china and silver and crystal and candles.

But alone was okay, he decided.

Alone was safe.

Chapter Twenty-one

While Fritz went upstairs to get Marissa, Butch waited in the library and thought about what a good guy the
doggen
was. When Butch had asked for a favor, the old man had been thrilled to take care of the request. Even though it had been an odd thing to ask.

When the smell of an ocean breeze drifted into the room, Butch's body threw out an instantaneous and very noticeable response. As he turned around, he made sure his suit jacket was in place.

Oh, Christ, she was beautiful in that teal gown. "Hey, baby."

"Hello, Butch." Marissa's voice was quiet, her hand unsure as she smoothed her hair. "You look… well."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Thanks to V's healing palm.

There was a long silence. Then he said, "Is it okay if I greet you properly?"

When she nodded, he went over and took her hand. As he bent down and kissed her, her palm was cold as ice. Was she nervous? Or ill?

He frowned. "Marissa, you want to sit down for a minute before we go in to dinner?"

"Please."

He led her over to a silk-covered couch and noticed that she was unsteady as she gathered the skirting of her gown and sat down with him.

He tilted her head around. "Talk to me." When she didn't speak right away, he pushed. "Marissa… you've got something on your mind, right?"

There was an awkward pause. "I don't want you fighting with the Brotherhood."

So that's what it was. "Marissa, last night was unexpected. I don't fight. Truly."

"But V said if you were willing, they were going to use you."

Whoa. News to him. Far as he knew, that thing the night before had been about testing his loyalty, not bringing him into the field as a regular gig. "Listen, the brothers have spent the last nine months keeping me
out
of fights. I'm not getting involved with the
lessers
. That's not my deal."

Her tension eased. "I just can't bear the thought of you being hurt like before."

"You don't worry about that. The Brotherhood does their thing, it's got little to do with me." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You got anything else you want to talk about, baby?"

"I do have a question."

"Ask me anything."

"I don't know where you live."

"Here. I live here." At her confusion, he nodded toward the library's open doors. "Across the courtyard in the gatehouse. I live with V."

"Oh—so where were you last night?"

"Right over there. But I stayed put."

She frowned. Then blurted, "Do you have other females?"

As if anyone could measure up to her? "No! Why do you ask?"

"We haven't layed together and you are a male with obvious… needs. Even now, your body has changed, hardening, growing big."

Crap. He'd tried to hide the erection, he really had. "Marissa—"

"Surely you need to be eased regularly. Your body is
phearsom
."

That didn't sound good. "What?"

"Potent and powerful. Worthy of entering a female."

Butch closed his eyes, thinking Mr. Worthy was really rising to the occasion now. "Marissa, there's no one but you. No one. How could there be?"

"Males of my kind may take more than one mate. I don't know if humans—"

"I don't. Not with you. I can't imagine myself with another woman. I mean, could you see yourself with someone else?"

In the hesitation that followed, a blast of cold shot up his spine, racing from his ass right into the base of his skull. And while he freaked, she fiddled with her extravagant skirt. Shit, she was flushing, too.

"I don't want to be with anyone else," she said.

"What aren't you telling me, Marissa?"

"There is someone I've been… around."

Butch's brain started to misfire, like his neuropathways had just blown apart and there were no more roads left in his gray matter. "'Around,' as in how?"

"It's not romantic, Butch. I swear. He's a friend, but he is a male, and that's why I'm letting you know." She put her hand to his face. "You're the one I want."

Staring into her solemn eyes, he couldn't doubt the truth in what she said. But shit, he felt like he'd been two-by-foured. Which was ridiculous and petty and… oh, God… he totally couldn't handle her being with someone else—

Pull it together, O'Neal. Just yank your ass back to reality, buddy. Right now.

"Good," he said. "I want to be the one for you. The only one."

Shoving aside all his jealous-guy horseshit, he kissed her hand… and was alarmed by the tremors in it.

He smoothed her cold fingers out between his palms. "What's going on with this shaking thing? Are you upset or are you sick? Do you need a doctor?"

She waved off his concern with none of her usual grace. "I can take care of it. Don't worry."

The hell he wouldn't. Christ, she was totally weak here, her eyes dilated, her movements uncoordinated. Ill, definitely ill.

"Why don't I take you back upstairs, baby? It'll kill me not to see you, but you don't look as if you're up to dinner. And I can bring you something to eat."

Her shoulders sagged. "I was so hoping… Yes, I think that would be best."

She stood up and swayed. As he caught her arm, he cursed that brother of hers. If she needed medical help, who would they take her to?

"Come on, baby. Lean on me."

Taking it slow, he led her up to the second floor, then down past Rhage and Mary's room, past Phury's, and even farther, until they got to the corner suite she'd been given.

She put her hand on the brass knob. "I'm sorry, Butch. I wanted to spend time with you tonight. I thought I had more strength."

"Can I please call a doctor?"

Her eyes were dazed but curiously unconcerned as she looked up into his face. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own. And I'm going to be all right soon."

"Man… right now I want to caretake like you read about."

She smiled. "Not necessary, remember?"

"Does it count if I just do it to ease myself?"

"Yes."

As they stared at each other, he had a screaming thought flash through his pea brain: He loved this woman. He loved her to death.

And he wanted her to know it.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb and decided it was a crying shame he didn't have the gift of words. He wanted to say something smart and tender, to give the L-bomb a good intro. Except he just came up dry.

So he blurted out, with his typical lack of finesse, "I love you."

Marissa's eyes popped.

Oh, shit. Too much, too soon—

She threw her arms around his neck and held on hard, burying her head in his chest. As he wrapped his arms around her, and geared up to go full sap all over the place, voices drifted down the hall. Opening her door, he ushered her into the room, figuring they needed a little privacy.

As he took her to the bed and helped her lie down, he lined up all kinds of sissy words in his head, ready to romance it up. But before he could say anything, she grabbed his hand and squeezed so hard his bones bent.

"I love you, too, Butch."

The words made him forget how to breathe.

Totally knocked out, he sank down to his knees next to the bed and had to smile. "Now, why you want to go and do that, baby? I'd figured you as a smart female."

She laughed softly. "You know why."

"You pity me?"

"Because you are a male of worth."

He cleared his throat. "I'm really not."

"How can you say that?"

Well, let's see. He'd been canned from Homicide for busting the nose of a suspect. He'd fucked mostly whores and lowlifes. Shot and killed other men. Then, yeah, there was that former cokehead shit and the current and persistent Scotch sucking. Oh, and did he mention he'd been sort of suicidal since his sister's murder all those years ago?

Yup, he was worth something. But only a trip to a landfill.

Butch opened his mouth, about to spill the beans, but then stopped himself.

Shut your face, O'Neal. The woman tells you she loves you and she's more than you deserve. Don't ruin it with the ugly past routine. Start fresh, here and now, with her.

He rubbed his thumb over her flawless cheek. "I want to kiss you. You feel like letting me?"

As she hesitated, he couldn't say he blamed her. Last time they'd been together had been a mess with his body kicking out that nasty stuff and her brother walking in. Plus she was clearly tired now.

He pulled back. "I'm sorry-—"

"It's not that I don't want to be with you. I do."

"You don't have to explain. And I'm happy to just be around you, even if I can't—"
Be inside of you
. "Even if we don't… you know, make love."

"I'm holding back because I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

Butch smiled fiercely, thinking if she ripped his back to shreds hanging on tight, that was perfectly fine with him. "Doesn't matter if I get hurt."

"It matters to me."

He started to get up. "That's sweet of you. Now, listen, I'll just bring you up some—"

"Wait." Her eyes glowed in the dimness. "Oh… God, Butch… Kiss me."

He stilled. Then sank back down to his knees. "I'll take it easy. I promise."

Leaning into her, he put his mouth on hers and brushed her lips. Good Lord, she was soft. Warm. Shit… he wanted in. But he wasn't going to push.

Except then she grabbed on to his shoulders and said, "More."

Praying for control, he stroked her mouth once again, then tried to ease back. She followed, keeping them linked… and before he could stop himself, he ran his tongue across her lower lip. With an erotic sigh, she opened herself and he had to slide inside, couldn't possibly turn down the opportunity to penetrate her.

As she tried to get even closer to him, he moved his torso up on the bed, pressing his chest into her. Which was not such a hot idea. The way her breasts absorbed his weight set off a five-alarm fire in his body, reminding him just how desperate a man could be when he had his woman horizontal.