Lover Revealed

Chapter Thirty-seven

Butch walked across the bright blue mats of the gym, his destination a steel door on the far side marked equipment room. Along the way, as he followed Wrath and V, he held on to Marissa's cold hand. He wanted to give her some kind of pep talk, but she was too smart for that old it's-gonna-be-okay thing. Bottom line was, no one knew what was going to happen, and trying to falsely reassure her was like training a floodlight on the free fall he was about to take.

At the end of the mats, V unlocked the reinforced door and they filed into a jungle of workout gear and caged weapons, heading back to the physical therapy/first aid suite. V let them in and hit the lights, fluorescent tubes flickering on in a chorus of hums.

The place was right out of an episode of ER, all white tiles and glass-front stainless-steel cabinets filled with vials and medical supplies. In the corner there was a whirlpool tub, a massage table, and a cardiac crash cart, but none of that registered much. Butch was primarily interested in the center of the room, where showtime was going to happen: Sitting like a stage waiting for Shakespeare, there was a gurney with some kind of a high-tech chandelier hanging over it. And underneath… a drain in the floor.

He tried to imagine himself up on that table under those lights. And felt like he was drowning.

As Wrath shut the door, Marissa said in a flat voice, "We should be doing this at Havers's clinic."

V shook his head. "No offense, but I wouldn't take Butch to your brother for a paper cut. And the fewer people who know about this, the better." He went over to the gurney and checked that the brake was engaged. "Besides, I'm a damn good medic. Butch, ditch the clothes and let's do this."

Butch stripped to his boxers, his skin goose-bumping all over. "Can we do something about the temperature in this meat locker?"

"Yup." V walked over to the wall. "We want it warm in here for the first part. Then I'm going to throw the air-conditioning on hard-core and you'll love me for it."

Butch went to the gurney and popped his body up on the thing. As a hiss and a rush of toasty air came from overhead, he held his arms out for Marissa. After closing her eyes briefly, she came to him, and he took refuge in her body heat, hugging her hard. Her tears were slow and silent, and when he tried to talk to her, she just shook her head.

"Would you choose to be mated this day?"

Everyone in the room jerked around.

A diminutive figure in black robes had appeared in the corner out of nowhere. The Scribe Virgin.

Butch's heart jackhammered. He'd seen her only once before, at Wrath and Beth's mating ceremony, and she was now as she had been then: a presence to respect and fear, power incarnate, a force of nature.

Then he realized what she'd asked. "I would, yes… Marissa?"

Marissa's hands went down as if she were about to pick up the skirting of a gown she wasn't wearing. Then she dropped her arms awkwardly, but still curtsied low and with grace. As she held the pose, she said, "If it would not offend, we would be honored beyond measure to be joined by Your Holiness."

The Scribe Virgin came forward, her deep chuckle filling the room. As she laid her glowing hand on Marissa's bowed head, she said, "Such manners, child. Your line has always had such perfect manners. Now come to your height and lift thine eyes unto me." Marissa came out of the curtsy and looked up. As she did, Butch could have sworn the Scribe Virgin sighed a little. "Beautiful. Just beautiful. You are so exquisitely formed."

Then the Scribe Virgin looked at Butch. Though there was an opaque black veil over her face, the impact of her stare made his skin tingle all over in warning. Like he was standing in the path of an impending lightning strike.

"What is your father's name, human?"

"Eddie. Edward. O'Neal. But if you don't mind, I'd rather not bring him into this, okay?"

Everyone in the room stiffened and V muttered, "Take it easy with the inquiry, cop. Really easy."

"And why is that, human?" the Scribe Virgin asked. The word human was pronounced like the phrase piece of shit.

Butch shrugged. "He's nothing to me."

"Are humans always so dismissive of their lines?"

"My father and I have nothing to do with each other, that's all."

"Therefore blood ties mean little to you, yes?"

No, Butch thought, glancing over at Wrath. Blood ties were everything.

Butch looked back at the Scribe Virgin. "Do you have any idea how relieved—"

As Marissa gasped, V stepped in and slapped his gloved hand over Butch's mouth, yanking him backward by the head and hissing in his ear, "Do you want to get toasted here, buddy? No questions—"

"Ease from him, warrior," the Scribe Virgin snapped. "This I wish to hear."

V's grip slid off his face. "Watch it."

"Sorry about the question thing," Butch said to the black robes. "But I just… I'm glad I know what's in my veins. And honestly, if I die today, I'm grateful I finally know what I am." He took Marissa's hand. "And who I love. If this is where my life took me after all those years of being lost, I'd say my time here wasn't wasted."

There was a long silence. Then the Scribe Virgin said, "Do you regret that you leave behind your human family?"

"Nope. This is my family. Here with me now and elsewhere in the compound. Why would I need anything else?" The cursing in the room told him he'd thrown another question out there. "Yeah… ah, sorry—"

A soft feminine laugh came from under the robes. "You are rather fearless, human."

"Or you could call it stupid." As Wrath's mouth fell open, Butch rubbed his face. "You know, I'm trying here. I really am. You know, to be respectful."

"Your hand, human."

He offered her his left, the one that was free.

"Palm up," Wrath barked.

He flipped his hand over.

"Tell me, human," the Scribe Virgin said, "if I asked for the one you hold this female with, would you offer it to me?"

"Yeah. I'd just reach over to her with the other guy." As that little laugh came again, he said, "You know, you sound like birds when you do that chuckle thing. It's nice."

Over to the left, Vishous put his head in his hands.

There was a long silence.

Butch took a deep breath. "Guess I'm not allowed to say that."

The Scribe Virgin reached up and slowly lifted the robes from her face.

Jesus… Christ… Butch squeezed Marissa's hand hard at what was revealed.

"You're an angel," he whispered.

Perfect lips lifted in a smile. "No. I am Myself."

"You're beautiful."

"I know." Her voice became authoritative again. "Your right palm, Butch O'Neal, descended of Wrath son of Wrath."

Butch let go of Marissa, regripped her with his left hand, and reached forward. When the Scribe Virgin touched him, he flinched. Though his bones weren't crushed, the awesome strength in her was merely shelved potential. She could grind him to powder on a whim.

The Scribe Virgin turned to Marissa. "Child, give me yours now."

The instant that connection was made, a warm current flooded Butch's body. At first he assumed it was because the heating system in the room was really cooking, but then he realized the rush was under his skin.

"Ah, yes. This is a very good mating," the Scribe Virgin pronounced. "And you have my permission to join for however long you have together." She dropped their hands and looked at Wrath. "The presentation to me is complete. If he lives, you shall finish the ceremony as soon as he is well enough."

The king bowed his head. "So be it."

The Scribe Virgin turned back to Butch. "Now, we shall see how strong you are."

"Wait," Butch said, thinking about the glymera. "Marissa's mated now, right? I mean, even if I die, she will have had a mate, right?"

"Death wish," V said under his breath. "Fucking Death Wish Boy we got over here."

The Scribe Virgin seemed flat-out amazed. "I should kill you now."

"I'm sorry, but this matters. I don't want her falling under that whole sehclusion thing. I want her to be my widow so she doesn't have to worry about anyone else leading her life."

"Human, you are astoundingly arrogant," the Scribe Virgin snapped. But then she smiled. "And totally unrepentant, aren't you."

"I don't mean to be rude, I swear. I just need to know she's taken care of."

"Have you had use of her body? Have you taken her as a male does?"

"Yeah." As Marissa turned bright pink, Butch tucked her face into his shoulder. "And it was… you know, with love."

As he whispered something soothing to Marissa, the Scribe Virgin seemed touched, her voice turning almost kind. "Then she shall be as you say, your widow, and not fall under any provisions affecting unmated females."

Butch sighed in relief and stroked Marissa's back. "Thank God."

"You know, human, if you learned some manners, you would fare well with me."

"If I promise to work at it, will you help me live through what's coming?"

The Scribe Virgin's head fell back as she laughed in a loud burst. "No, I will not help you. But I find myself wishing you very well, human. Very well indeed." Abruptly, she glared at Wrath, who was smiling and shaking his head. "Do not assume such leeway with etiquette applies to others who seek me out."

Wrath ditched the grin. "I am well aware of what is proper, as are my brothers."

"Good." The robes shifted back into place, lifting up and going over her head without the help of hands. Just before her face was covered, she said, "You will wish to bring the queen to this room before you commence."

And then the Scribe Virgin disappeared.

Vishous whistled between his teeth and wiped his brow with his forearm. "Butch, man, you are so lucky she liked you, true?"

Wrath flipped open his cell phone and started dialing. "Shit, I thought we were going to lose you before we even started—Beth? Hey, my leelan, could you come to the gym?"

Vishous grabbed a stainless-steel tray stand and wheeled it over to a cabinet. As he started putting things in sterile wraps on top, Butch shifted his legs around and stretched out on the gurney.

He stared up at Marissa. "Things don't work out, I'll wait for you in the Fade," he said, not because he believed it but because he wanted to reassure her.

She bent down and kissed him, then stayed with her cheek against his until V quietly cleared his throat. As Marissa stepped back, she began to speak in the Old Language, a soft rush of desperate words, a prayer that was more breath than voice.

V brought the tray stand up to the gurney, then went to Butch's feet. As the brother moved around, he had something in his hand, but he wasn't showing what it was, keeping his arm always out of sight. There was a metallic clank and the far end of the table tilted up. In the heat of the room, Butch felt the blood rush to his head.

"You ready?" V asked.

Butch stared at Marissa. "I feel like this is happening so fast, all of a sudden."

The door opened and Beth walked in. She said a soft hello and went to Wrath, who put his arms around her and drew her close.

Butch glanced back at Marissa, whose prayers had increased in speed until they were a blur of words. "I love you," he said. Then he looked at V. "Do it."

Vishous lifted his hand. There was a scalpel in it, and before Butch could track the movement, the blade cut into one of his wrists deeply. Twice. Blood welled, a bright, glistening red, and he grew nauseous as he watched it drip down his forearm.

An identical pair of burning cuts were made in his other wrist.

"Oh… Jesus." As his heart rate shot through the roof, the blood ran faster.

Fear came on him hard and he had to open his mouth so he could breathe.

Off in the distance, he heard voices, but he couldn't track them. And the room seemed to be receding. As reality warped and twisted, his eyes latched on to Marissa's face and pale blue eyes and white-blond hair.

He did his best to swallow the panic so he didn't scare her. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay… it's okay, I'm okay…"

Someone grabbed his ankles and he jerked in surprise… but it was just Wrath. And the king held him as V tilted the table even more so the blood ran out even faster. Then Vishous came around and gently eased Butch's arms off the table so they were hanging down. Closer to the drain.

"V?" Butch said. "Don't leave, okay?"

"Never." V brushed Butch's hair back with a gesture so tender it was out of place coming from a male.

Somehow everything got frightening. On some kind of survival reflex, Butch started to struggle, but V leaned on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

"Easy, cop. We're all right here with you. Just relax if you can…"

Time stretched out. Time… God, time was passing, wasn't it? People kept talking to him, but Marissa's uneven voice was all he really heard… though as she was praying, he didn't know what she was saying.

He lifted his head and looked down, but he couldn't see his wrists anymore to track what was—

All of a sudden he started to shiver uncontrollably. "I'm c-cold."

V nodded. "I know. Beth, turn the heat up some more, okay?"

Butch looked at Marissa, feeling helpless. "I'm getting c-colder."

Her prayers stopped. "Can you feel my hand on your arm?" He nodded. "You feel how warm it is? Good… imagine it all over your body. I'm holding you… I'm hugging you. You're against me. I'm against you."

He smiled. He liked that.

But then his eyes fluttered, the sight of her flickering like she was a movie on a screen, and the projector was broken.

"Cold… turn heat up." His skin prickled all over. His stomach felt like a lead balloon. His heart seemed to be twinkling in his chest, not beating anymore.

"Cold…" His teeth chattered, so very loud in his ears, but then he couldn't hear anything. "Love… you…"

Marissa watched as the pool of Butch's brilliant red blood grew bigger and bigger around the drain until she was standing in some of it. Oh, God… all his color had left him, his skin going paper white. He didn't seem to be breathing anymore.

V came forward with a stethoscope and put it on Butch's chest. "He's close now. Beth, get over here. I need you." He handed the stethoscope to the queen. "You listen to that heart of his. I want you to tell me when you don't hear anything for ten seconds or more." He pointed at the clock on the wall. "Track it by that third hand up there. Marissa, you come hold your boy's ankles, true? Wrath is about to get busy."

When she hesitated, V shook his head. "We need someone to keep him on the table and Wrath and I have to go to work. You're still going to be with him, you can talk to him from there."

She leaned down, kissed Butch's lips and told him she loved him. Then she replaced Wrath, taking over the job of keeping Butch's heavy body from sliding off the gurney onto the floor.

"Butch?" she said. "I'm right here, nallum. Can you feel me?" She squeezed the cold skin of his ankles. "I'm right here."

She kept talking to him calmly, though she was terrified about what was going to happen next. Especially when Vishous brought over the cardiac crash cart.

"You ready, Wrath?" the Brother asked.

"Where you want me?"

"Right here next to his chest." Vishous picked up a long, thin, sterile pack and ripped it open. The needle inside was about six inches in length and seemed thick as a pen. "How we doing with that heart rate, Beth?"

"Slowing down. God, it's so faint."

"Marissa? I'm going to ask you to get quiet so she can hear better, okay?"

Marissa shut her mouth and resumed praying in her head.

In the minutes that passed, they became a frozen tableau around Butch. The only thing that moved in the room was his blood as it dripped out of those deep wounds in his wrists and flowed down the drain. The soft glug, glug, glug in the floor made Marissa want to scream.

"It's still beating," Beth whispered.

"Here's what's going to happen," Vishous said, looking back and forth across Butch's body. "When Beth gives me the signal, I'm going to pop the table upright. While I work on Wrath, I want you two to seal up Butch's wrists. Seconds count. You need to close those wounds quick, we clear?"

They both nodded.

"Slower," Beth said. Her dark blue eyes narrowed on the clock and she lifted a hand to press one of the stethoscope's earpieces in tighter. "Slower…"

Seconds suddenly stretched out into infinity, and Marissa flipped into some kind of autopilot, her fear and panic buried under a powerful focus that came out of nowhere.

Beth frowned. Bent down closer, as if that would help. "Now!"

V set the table to level and Marissa ran around to one of Butch's wrists as Beth dropped to the other one. While they sucked the wounds closed, V shoved that thick needle right into the crook of Wrath's arm.

"Everyone back away," V barked when he withdrew it from the king's vein.

He shifted his grip on the syringe so he was holding it in his fist and leaned over Butch. With hurried movements, he felt around the sternum with his fingertips. Then he slammed that needle right into Butch's heart.

Marissa stumbled back as the plunger was depressed. Someone caught her. Wrath.

V extracted the syringe and tossed it on the table. Then he picked up the paddles of the crash cart and there was a juicing-up noise from the machine.

"Clear!" V shouted. And slapped the metal pads on Butch's chest.

Butch's torso jerked and V put his fingers to the male's jugular.

"Clear!" He hit Butch again.

Marissa sagged in Wrath's arms as Vishous threw the paddles onto the crash cart, pinched Butch's nostrils, and blew into his mouth twice. Then the Brother started chest compressions. As he performed CPR, he growled, his fangs bared as if he were pissed off at Butch.

Whose skin was now turning gray.

"… three… four… five…"

As V continued to count, Marissa struggled free. "Butch? Butch… don't leave… stay with us. Stay with me."

"… nine… ten." V pulled back, blew two breaths into Butch's mouth, then put his finger to the male's throat.

"Please, Butch," she begged.

V went for the stethoscope. Moved the disk around, searching. "Nothing. Fuck."