Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(96)

“She wouldn’t see me.”

“Goddamn it, why?” He wrapped up his hips.

“Some shit like ‘wheels turning.’ Who knows. One of the Chosen met me.” Wrath’s jaw went so tight it was a wonder he could talk at all. “Anyway, I go back tomorrow night. Straight up, it doesn’t look good.”

As frustration spiked, V felt his eyelid start to flicker. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “And while we’re on the subject of crap, let’s talk about you.”

“Me?”

“You’re strung tighter than cable and your eye’s twitching.”

“Yeah, because you just Friday-the-thirteenthed me.” V pushed past the king and went into his bedroom.

As he put his glove on his hand, Wrath leaned against the jamb. “Look, Vishous…”

Oh, they were so not doing this. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. So here’s the deal. I’m giving you till the end of the week. If you haven’t straightened up by then, I’m taking you out of rotation.”

“What?”

“Vacation time. Can you say R&R, my brother?”

“Are you out of your mind? You realize we’re down to four of us now with Tohr being gone, true? You can’t afford to—”

“Lose you. Yeah, I know. And so you’re not going to get killed because of whatever’s going on in that head of yours. Or not going on, as is the case.”

“Look, we’re all on edge, what with—”

“Butch came by a little while ago. Told me about your repeating nightmare.”

“That cocksucker.” Man, he was going to pound his roommate into the ground like a stake for blabbing.

“He was right to tell me. You should have told me.”

V went over to his bureau, where his rolling papers and his tobacco were. He spun one up fast, needing something in his mouth. It was either plug himself up or keep swearing.

“You need to get checked out, V.”

“By who? Havers? No CAT scan or lab workup is going to tell me what’s wrong, because it’s not physical. Look, I’ll get it together.” He glanced over his shoulder and exhaled. “I’m the smart one, remember? I’ll figure this out.”

Wrath lowered his wraparounds, his pale green eyes burning like neon penlights. “You’ve got a week to fix this, or I’m going to the Scribe Virgin about you. Now get your ass dressed. I need to talk to you about something else involving the cop.”

As the king took off for the living room, V drew hard on his cigarette and then looked around for his ashtray. Goddamn it, he’d left the thing out front.

He was about to head to the living room when he looked at his hand. Bringing the gloved nightmare up to his mouth, he peeled the leather off with his teeth and stared at his radiant curse.

Shit. The illumination was getting brighter and brighter every day.

Holding his breath, he pressed the lit cigarette into his palm. As the flaming end met his skin, the white glow beneath flared even stronger, backlighting the tattooed warnings until they appeared to be in 3-D.

The hand-rolled was consumed in a burst of light, the sting tingling his nerve endings. When only dust remained, he blew it off into the air, watching the little cloud rush forward and disintegrate into nothing.



Marissa took a tour through the vacant house and ended up back in the living room, where she’d started. The place was much bigger than she’d thought, especially given the six underground bedroom suites. God, she’d taken the lease because it had seemed so much smaller than her brother’s—than Havers’s—but size was so relative. This Colonial felt huge. And very empty.

As she pictured herself moving in, she realized that she’d never actually been in a house alone before. Back home, there had always been servants and Havers and patients and medical staff. And the Brotherhood’s mansion was likewise full of people.

“Marissa?” Rhage’s heavy boots came up behind her. “Time to go.”

“I haven’t measured the rooms yet.”

“Have Fritz come back and do it.”

She shook her head. “This is my house. I want to.”

“Then there’s always tomorrow night. But we have to get going now.”

She took a last look around, then headed for the door. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

They dematerialized back to the mansion, and as they came in through the vestibule, she could smell roast beef and hear talk drifting out of the dining room. Rhage smiled at her and started to disarm, stripping his dagger holster off his shoulders as he called out for Mary.

“Hey.”

Marissa wheeled around. Butch was in the shadows of the billiards room, leaning on the pool table, a squat crystal glass in his hand. He was dressed in a fine suit and a pale blue tie…but as she stared at him, all she saw was him naked and propped up on his arms over her.

Just as heat swirled, his eyes shifted away. “You look different in pants.”

“What—oh. They’re Beth’s.”

He took a drink from his glass. “Heard you’re renting a place.”

“Yes, I’ve just come from—”

“Beth told me. So how much longer have you got here? A week? Less? Probably less, right.”