Lover Revealed (54 page)

Oh… shit. She was bleeding hard from that wrist of hers.

"Marissa… move your arm toward me…" V breathed deeply, muscles straining. "Marissa…"

She didn't appear to hear him. Was too busy watching what was happening on that gurney.

"
Marissa
… you're bleeding out. Lower your damn wrist."

She shifted her elbow and her arm dropped, but she really wasn't focused on herself.

Until V put his lips to her skin. Then she gasped and looked down.

Their eyes met. Hers were wide.

"Just to keep you from bleeding," he said against her wrist.

As Butch made a noise, she turned back to her mate.

And suddenly, time stopped for V in spite of the load he was holding back. He stared at Marissa's perfect profile as he licked the chewed mess of her wrist, sealing the wounds, easing the pain of them, starting the healing process. Compelled by something he didn't want to name, he ran his tongue over her skin again and again, tasting both her blood and… Butch's mouth.

Vishous repeated the licking more times than he had to. And on the last swipe, when he knew that he had to stop because he'd gone over the line already… when he knew he was going to lose control of Wrath unless he paid attention… on the last swipe, he looked out at Butch. And pressed his lips against the skin at his mouth in a kiss.

He had the strangest feeling he was saying good-bye to his roommate.

Butch woke up in a maelstrom. A whirlpool. A… blender.

There was a roaring throughout his body, something that sent every one of his muscles into contraction. He was… drinking something. Something so good it brought tears to his eyes… something thick and lovely against the tongue, a dark wine. As he swallowed again and again, he thought dimly that he'd tasted something like it before. Not this exact vintage but—

His eyes flipped open and he nearly passed out.

Holy shit, he was
alive
and on the other side and…

Wait, this wasn't Marissa. There was black hair hanging down over his face.

He jerked his mouth out of the way. "
Marissa
?"

When he heard her reply, he looked to the sound of her voice. Only to recoil.

Good… God
. Not exactly what he expected to see and not a welcome wagon to his new life, either. Not by a long shot.

Wrath was right out of a Saturday-night movie, a hulking, snarling vampire monster, fangs bared, eyes glowing. And he wanted at Butch.

The good news was that he was being held back by Vishous and Marissa. The bad news was that they seemed to be on the verge of losing control of him.

Butch looked up at Beth, who was sucking the wound at her wrist shut. "Oh… shit." He'd drunk a lot from her, hadn't he? Oh…
shit
.

He let his head fall back against the table. Wrath was going to kill him. Absolutely. When they let that boy go, the king was going to wipe the floor with him.

Butch was cursing and measuring the distance to the door as Beth walked up to the trio.

"Wrath?" In a lower voice she said, "Keep holding him."

Butch turned on his side and met Marissa's eyes, praying he wasn't about to lose his life now. And he was impatient to get close to his female, but this was one situation that needed to be diffused with care.

"Wrath?" Beth repeated.

Wrath's instincts were so fired up, she had to talk at him for a while to get him focused on her instead of Butch.

"It's over, okay?" She touched his face. "It's done, it's over."

With a moan of desperation, Wrath pressed his lips to her palm, then squeezed his eyes shut in agony. "Tell them… tell them to let go slowly. And Beth… Beth, I'm going to come at you. I can't… stop that. But it'll be better than killing him…"

"Yeah… much better," Butch agreed.

Beth stepped back and braced herself. "Let him go."

It was like turning a tiger loose. Marissa ducked and scrambled out of the way while Wrath threw Vishous off with such force the brother slammed into a cabinet.

In one coordinated launch, the king went for Beth and bit her on the throat. As she gasped and fell back in ecstasy, Wrath wheeled around and nailed Butch with pure murder in his eyes.

It was obvious the king drank now not for sustenance but to mark, and his bonding scent was a screaming warning that filled the room. As soon as he felt his point had been made, he picked his
shellan
up in his arms and left. There was no question where they were headed: nearest room with a door so he could get inside of her.

Butch reached out for Marissa, and she came to him in the manner of hope to the disaffected: an illuminating warmth, a promise of a future worth living, a loving benediction. As she bent over him and held on tight, he kissed her softly and spoke a whole lot of nonsense, the words leaving him in an uncontrolled, unthought-out rush.

When they separated a little to breathe, he looked at Vishous. The brother was standing awkwardly next to the open door and staring down at the floor, his big body trembling ever so slightly.

"V?"

V's diamond eyes lifted and he blinked quick. "Hey, man." As Butch reached out a hand, Vishous shook his head. "Glad you're back, cop."

"Fuck you, come here. V… gitcha ass over here."

V shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked to the gurney. Marissa was the one who linked them, drawing Vishous's arm up and out so Butch could reach the brother's palm.

"You all right?" Butch asked, squeezing.

For a split second, his grip was returned. Then V stomped one of his shitkickers like a horse and broke the contact. "Yeah. Fine."

"Thank you."

"Yeah."

V was so twitchy, Butch took pity on him and changed the subject. "So is it over? Is that it?"

V stroked his goatee and glanced at the clock. Then looked at Butch's body. "Let's wait another ten minutes."

Okay, fine. Butch passed the time running his hands up and down Marissa's arms. And shoulders. And face. And hair. Eventually, V murmured, "I guess it is done."

Even though there was a curious disappointment in the brother's voice, Butch grinned. "Well, that wasn't too bad. Except for the dying part, of course. That wasn't…" He let the sentence drift and frowned.

"What is it?" Marissa said.

"I don't know, I—" Something was happening… something in his gut…

Vishous came over to the table. "What's going on, cop?"

"I…" The vast wave of pain came over him like a shroud of nails, wrapping around his body, cutting into him from every angle possible. He gasped under the onslaught, his vision conking out, then coming back. "Oh,
shit. I'm dying .
.."

Vishous's face appeared in front of his. And the bastard was smiling… a big, fat Cheshire cat grin. "This is the change, my friend. Now… now you're turning."

"What the f—" He didn't get the word out. Red-hot agony became all he knew and he receded deep within himself, getting lost in the swirling torture. As it intensified even further, he hoped to pass out. No such luck.

After a hundred and fifty light-years of suffering, the popping started: The bones in his thighs were the first to snap and he howled, but there was no time to dwell on it because his upper arms were next. Then his shoulders. His spine… his lower legs… hands… feet… his skull screamed and his jaw ached. He rolled over… spit out two teeth…

Through the hurricane of the change, Marissa was with him, talking to him. He held on to her voice and the image of her in his head, the only thing steady in his world of suffering.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Way across town, in a very nice, very secluded house, John finished his first beer. And then his second. And his third. He was surprised his stomach could handle them, but they went down smooth and stayed that way.

Blaylock and Qhuinn were on the floor in front of the bed, locked in on a plasma-screen TV playing
sKillerz
, that kick-ass game that was everywhere. By some freak of nature, John had beaten them both, so they were battling for second place.

As John lounged back on Blaylock's comforter, he tipped the Corona bottle to his mouth, realized it was empty, and looked at the clock. Fritz would be picking him up in about twenty minutes and that might be a problem. He was buzzing. Hard.

It was really nice.

Blaylock laughed and keeled over onto the floor. "I can't believe you beat me, you bastard."

Qhuinn picked up his beer and gave Blay a little knock in the leg with the thing. "Sorry, big guy. But you suck."

John propped his head up on his hand, relishing the feel of being all pleasantly out of it and mellow. He'd been so pissed off for so long, he hadn't been able to remember what relaxed felt like.

Blay glanced over at him with a grin. "Of course, strong/silent up there is the real ass-kicker. I hate you, you know that?"

John smiled and flipped the guy off. As the two on the floor laughed, a BlackBerry sounded.

Qhuinn answered it. Did a lot of
Uh-huh
. Hung up. "Shit… Lash ain't coming back for a while. Seems like you"—the guy looked at John—"scared the shit out of him."

"Man, that kid always was an asshole," Blay said.

"Straight up."

They were quiet for a while, just listening to Too Short's "Nasty." Then Qhuinn got this intense look on his face.

His eyes, one blue, one green, narrowed. "Yo, Blay… so what was it like?"

Blay's stare shot quickly to the ceiling. "Losing at
sKillerz
to you? A real buzz kill, thank you very much."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

With a curse, Blay reached over to a little refrigerator, took out another beer, and cracked it open. The guy had had seven and seemed sober as ever. Of course, he'd also eaten four McDonald's Big Macs, two things of large fries, a chocolate milk shake, and two cherry pies. Plus a bag of Ruffles.

"Blay? Come on… what happened?"

Blaylock took a slug from the bottle and swallowed hard. "Nothing."

"Fuck. You."

"Okay,
fine
." Blay took another draw. "I… ah, I wanted to die, okay. Was convinced I would. Then I… you know…" He cleared his throat. "I… ah, took her vein. And it got worse after that. A helluva lot worse."

"Whose vein was it?"

"Jasim's."

"Whoa. She's hot."

"Whatever." Blay leaned to the side, grabbed a sweatshirt, and pulled it over his hips. Like he had something worth covering up there.

Qhuinn tracked the movement. So did John.

"Did you have her, Blay?"

"No! Believe me, when the transition hits, sex is
not
on your mind."

"But I've heard afterward—"

"No, I did not do it with her."

"Okay, that's cool." But clearly Qhuinn thought his buddy was nuts. "So what about the change? What did it feel like?"

"I… I broke apart and came back together." Blay drank deeply. "That's it."

Qhuinn flexed his little hands, then curled them into fists. "Do you feel different?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Christ, Qhuinn—"

"What do you have to hide? We're all going to go through it. I mean… shit, John, you've got to want to know, right?"