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"You woke up screaming so loud I thought you'd been shot. What the hell were you dreaming about?"
"Nothing."
"Don't try and fade me, it's annoying."
V swirled the vodka in his glass. Swallowed it. "Just a dream."
"Bullshit. I've lived with you for nine months, buddy. You're stone quiet if you sleep at all."
"Whatever."
Butch dropped his towel, pulled on a pair of black boxers and took a starched white button-down out of the closet. "You should let Wrath know what's doing."
"How about we don't go there."
Butch put on the shirt, buttoned it up, then snapped the pinstriped pants off their hanger. "All I'm saying - "
"Can it, cop."
"God, you're a tight-lipped bastard. Look, I'm here if you want to talk, okay?"
"Don't hold your breath. But... 'predate it." V cleared his throat. "By the way, I borrowed one of your shirts last night."
"That's cool. It's you whoring my socks that pisses me off."
"Didn't want to see your girl in fighting clothes. Which is all I got."
"She said you'd talked to her. I think you make her nervous."
V said something that sounded like "I should." Butch looked over. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." V shot up off the bed and headed for the door. "Listen, I'm going to go hang at my other place tonight. Being here by myself when everyone's on the job makes me bat shit. You need me, come find me at the penthouse."
"V." As his roommate stopped and looked back, Butch said, "Thanks."
"For what?"
Butch lifted his forearm. "You know."
V shrugged. "Figured you'd feel better being around her that way."
John walked through the underground tunnel, his footsteps an echoing drumroll that made him feel how alone he was as nothing else could.
Well, alone except for his anger. That was with him always now, close as his own skin, coating him like his skin, too. Man, he couldn't wait for class to start tonight so he could let some of it out. He was twitching, overactivated, restless.
But maybe some of that was because, as he headed for the main house, he couldn't help remembering the first time he'd come this way with Tohr. He'd been so nervous then, and having the male next to him had been reassuring.
Happy f**king anniversary, John thought.
Three months ago tonight was when it had all gone down. Three months ago tonight, Wellsie's murder and Sarelle's murder and Tohr's disappearance had been dealt like bad-news Tarot cards. Bang. Bang. Bang.
And the aftermath had been a special kind of hell. For a couple of weeks following the tragedies, John had assumed Tohr would come back. He'd waited, hoped, prayed. But... nothing. No communication, no phone calls, no... nothing.
Tohr was dead. Had to be.
As John came up to the shallow set of stairs that led into the mansion, he could not bear to go through the hidden door into the foyer. He so wasn't interested in eating. Didn't want to see anyone. Didn't want to sit at the table. But sure as hell, Zsadist would come after him. The Brother had totally dragged him to the big house for meals the last couple of days. Which was embarrassing and pissed them both off.
John forced himself to go up the steps and into the mansion. To him, the foyer's blinding splash of color was an affront to the senses, no longer a feast for the eyes, and he headed for the dining room with his stare locked on the floor. When he walked under the grand arch, he saw that the table was set but not yet occupied. And he smelled roast lamb - Wrath's absolute favorite meal.
John's stomach rumbled with starvation, but he wasn't falling for it. Lately, however hungry he was, the instant he put food in his gut, even the kind specially made for a pre-trans, he got cramps. And he was supposed to eat more for the change? Yeah, right.
When he heard light, rushing footfalls, he turned his head. Someone was racing along the second-floor balcony.
Then laughter drifted down from above. Glorious feminine laughter.
He leaned out the archway and glanced at the grand staircase.
Bella appeared on the landing above, breathless, smiling, a black satin robe gathered in her hands. As she slowed at the head of the stairs, she looked over her shoulder, her thick dark hair swinging like a mane.
The pounding that came next was heavy and distant, growing louder until it was like boulders hitting the ground. Obviously, it was what she was waiting for. She let out a laugh, yanked her robe up even higher, and started down the stairs, bare feet skirting the steps as if she were floating. At the bottom, she hit the mosaic floor of the foyer and wheeled around just as Zsadist appeared in the second-story hallway.
The Brother spotted her and went straight for the balcony, pegging his hands into the rail, swinging his legs up and pushing himself straight off into thin air. He flew outward, body in a perfect swan dive - except he wasn't over water, he was two floors up over hard stone.
John's cry for help came out as a mute, sustained rush of air -
Which was cut off as Zsadist dematerialized at the height of the dive. He took form twenty feet in front of Bella, who watched the show with glowing happiness.
Meanwhile, John's heart pounded from shock... then pumped fast for a different reason.
Bella smiled up at her mate, her breath still hard, her hands still gripping the robe, her eyes heavy with invitation. And Zsadist came forward to answer her call, seeming to get even bigger as he stalked over to her. The Brother's bonding scent filled the foyer, just as his low, lionlike growl did. The male was all animal at the moment... a very sexual animal.
"You like to be chased, nalla," Z said in a voice so deep it distorted.
Bella's smile widened even more as she backed up into a corner. "Maybe."
"So run some more, why don't you." The words were dark and even John caught the erotic threat in them.
Bella took off, darting around her mate, going for the billiards room. Z tracked her like prey, pivoting around, his eyes leveled on the female's streaming hair and graceful body. As his lips peeled off his fangs, the white canines elongated, protruding from his mouth. And they weren't the only response he had to his shellan.
At his hips, pressing into the front of his leathers, was an erection the size of tree trunk.
Z shot John a quick glance and then went back to his hunt, disappearing into the room, that pumping growl getting louder. From out of the open doors, there came a delighted squeal, a scramble, a female's gasp, and then... nothing.
He'd caught her.
John put his hand on the wall, steadying a lurch he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. As he thought about what they were doing, his body grew curiously loose and a little tingly. Like maybe something was waking up.
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.
