Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(135)

“It’s important to keep females safe.”

Marissa went cold. “And yet you turned me out of the only home I had thirty minutes before dawn. Does that mean you’ve changed your commitment to my sex? Or is it that you don’t see me as female?”

He had the grace to flush. “I was highly emotional at the time.”

“You seemed very calm to me.”

“Marissa, I’m sorry—”

She cut him off with a slice of her hand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

“So be it. But you shouldn’t impede the council just to get back at me.”

As he fiddled with his bow tie, she caught a glimpse of the family’s signet ring on his pinkie. God…how had they ended up like this? She could remember when Havers was born and she’d looked at him in their mother’s arms. Such a sweet baby. Such a— Marissa stiffened as something occurred to her. Then she quickly covered the shock that surely showed on her face. “All right. I’ll go to the meeting.”

Havers’s shoulders eased and he told her the when and where. “Thank you. Thank you for this.”

She smiled coolly. “You are so very welcome.”

There was a long silence during which he eyed her pants and sweater and her desk of papers. “You seem very different.”

“I am.”

And she knew by the tight, awkward expression on his face that he had remained the same. He would have so preferred her in the mold of the glymera: a female of grace presiding over a home of distinction. Well, tough luck. She was all about rule number one now: Right or wrong, she made the choices in her life. No one else did.

She picked up her phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“I would offer my services to you. The clinic’s, I mean. Free of charge.” He pushed his glasses up higher on his straight nose. “The females and their young who stay here will need medical care.”

“Thank you. Thank you…for that.”

“I will also tell the nursing staff to be on the lookout for signs of abuse. We will refer to you any cases we find.”

“That would be most appreciated.”

He inclined his head. “We are pleased to be of service.”

As her cell phone went off, she said, “Good-bye, Havers.”

His eyes widened and she realized it was the first time she’d ever dismissed him.

But then change was good…and he’d better get used to the new world order.

The phone rang again. “Shut the door behind you, if you don’t mind.”

After he left, she glance at her cell’s caller ID and sighed in relief: Butch, and thank God for it. She so needed to hear his voice.

“Hi,” she said. “You’ll never believe who just—”

“Can you come home? Right now?”

Her hand closed tight on the phone. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt—”

“I’m fine.” His voice was way too level. Nothing but false calm. “Except I need you to come home. Now.”

“I’m leaving this moment.”

She grabbed her coat, shoved her phone into her pocket, and went looking for her one and only staff member.

When she found the older female doggen, she said, “I have to go.”

“Mistress, you seem upset. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you. And I’ll be back.”

“I shall take care of everything in your stead.”

She squeezed the female’s hand and then hurried outside. Standing on the front lawn in the raw spring night, she struggled to calm herself enough to dematerialize. When it didn’t work immediately, she thought she was going to have to call Fritz for a pickup: She was not only worried, she needed to feed, so it was possible she wasn’t going to be able to do it.

But then she felt herself go. As soon as she materialized in front of the Pit, she barged into the vestibule. Its inner lock sprang free before she even put her face in front of the camera, and Wrath was on the other side of the heavy panels of wood and steel.

“Where’s Butch?” she demanded.

“I’m right here.” Butch stepped into her line of sight, but didn’t come near her.

In the stark silence that followed, Marissa walked in slowly, feeling as though the air had turned into a slush she had to fight her way through. Numbly, she heard Wrath shut the door, and from the corner of her eye she saw Vishous rise to his feet from behind his computers. As V walked around the desk, the three males traded looks.

Butch held out his hand. “Come here, Marissa.”

When she took his palm, he led her to the computers and pointed to one of the monitors. Up on the screen was…text. A whole lot of dense text. Actually, there were two sections of documents, the field split down the middle.

“What is this?” she asked.

Butch gently sat her in the chair and stood behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Read the passage in italics.”

“Which side?”

“Either. They’re identical.”

She frowned and ran her eyes over something that seemed almost a poem:

There shall be one to bring the end before the master, a fighter of modern time found in the seventh of the twenty-first, and he shall be known in the numbers he bears: One more than the compass he apperceives, Though mere four points to make at his right, Three lives has he,