Dark Lover
Chapter Thirty-six
Wrath got out of bed and drew on a fresh set of leathers and a black T-shirt.
Beth was sleeping soundly on her side. When he went over and kissed her, she stirred.
"I'm going upstairs," he said, stroking her cheek. "But I'm not leaving the house."
She nodded, brushed her lips against his palm, and sank back down into the healing rest she needed so badly.
Wrath put on his sunglasses, locked the door behind him, and mounted the stairs. He knew there was a stupid, satisfied grin on his face and that his brothers were going to ride him hard for it.
But what the hell did he care?
He was taking a true shellan. He was going to be mated. And they could kiss his ass.
He pushed open the painting and stepped into the drawing room.
He couldn't believe what he saw.
Marissa in a long creamy gown. The cop in front of her, stroking her face, evidently poleaxed. All around them, the delicious scent of sex in the air.
And then Rhage burst into the room, dagger drawn. The brother was clearly ready to field dress the human for touching what he presumed was Wrath's shellan.
"Take your hands"
Wrath leaped forward. "Rhage! Hold up!"
The brother caught himself as Butch and Marissa looked around frantically.
Rhage smiled and tossed the dagger across the room at Wrath. "Go for it, my lord. He deserves death for putting his hand to her, but can we play with him a little first?"
Wrath caught the knife. "Go back to the table, Hollywood."
"Ah, come on. You know it's better with an audience."
Wrath smirked. "Only for you, my brother. Now leave us."
He threw the dagger back and Rhage sheathed it while leaving. "Man, Wrath, you can be a real buzz kill, you know that? A total fucking buzz kill."
Wrath looked over at Marissa and the cop. He had to approve of the way the human was using his body to protect her.
Maybe the guy was more than just a good opponent.
Butch glared at the suspect and put his arms out, trying to corral Marissa. She refused to stay behind him. Actually sidestepped his body, placing hers in front.
Like she was protecting him?
He grabbed her thin arm, but she resisted.
As that black-haired murderer came forward, she addressed the man sharply and they started talking in a language Butch didn't recognize. She grew heated. The man nodded a lot. Gradually she calmed.
And then the man put his hand on her shoulder and turned his head to look at Butch.
Good God, the guy's neck had a raw wound on one side, like something had chewed on him.
The man spoke. Marissa's reply was hesitant, but then she repeated it in a stronger tone.
"So be it," the bastard said, smiling tightly.
Marissa moved so she was standing side by side with Butch. She looked at him and blushed.
Something had been decided. Something
With a quick movement, the man grabbed Butch's throat.
Marissa screamed. "Wrath!"
Ah, shit, not this again, Butch thought as he struggled.
"She seems to be intrigued by you," the murderer said in Butch's ear. "So I'm going to let you keep breathing. But you hurt her and I'll skin you alive."
Marissa was talking rapidly in that foreign language, cursing the man, no doubt.
"We understand each other?" the man demanded.
Butch narrowed his eyes on those sunglasses. "She's got nothing to fear from me."
"Keep it that way."
"You're another story, however."
The man let go. Straightened Butch's shirt. Smiled.
Butch frowned.
Man, there was something seriously wrong with that guy's teeth.
"Where's Beth?" Butch demanded.
"She's safe. And healthy."
"No thanks to you."
"Thanks only to me."
"Then you've got some weird-ass ways of defining those words. I want to see her for myself."
"Later. And only if she wants to see you."
Butch's anger flared, and the bastard seemed to sense the surge in his body.
"Watch it, cop. You're in my world now."
Yeah, fuck you, buddy.
Butch was about to open his mouth when he felt something grab onto his arm. He looked down. Fear was shining in Marissa's eyes.
"Butch, please," she whispered. "Don't."
The suspect nodded.
"You be polite, and you stay with her," the man said, voice softening as he looked at Marissa. "She's happy to have your company, and she deserves a good shot of happy. We'll see about Beth. Later."
Mr. X took Billy back to the Riddle estate after they'd driven around the city for hours, talking.
Billy's past was perfect, and not just because of the violence he'd perpetrated on others. His father was just the kind of male role model Mr. X liked to see. A total, raving lunatic with a God complex. The man was a former NFL player, big, aggressive and competitive, and he'd ridden Billy since birth.
Nothing the son ever did was good enough. Mr. X's personal favorite was the story of Billy's mother's death. The woman had fallen into the pool after drinking too much one afternoon, and Billy had found her floating facedown. He'd pulled her out of the water and attempted CPR before calling 911. At the hospital, as the toe-tagged body had been wheeled to the morgue, the distinguished senator from the great state of New York had suggested his son had killed her. Evidently, Billy should have known to get an ambulance on the scene first rather than making a half-assed attempt to play paramedic himself.
Mr. X didn't question the merits of matricide. It was just that in Billy's case, the kid had been trained as a lifeguard and had actually tried to save the woman.
"I hate this house," Riddle muttered, staring up at the beautifully lit bricks and columns and shutters.
"Too bad you're on all those waiting lists. College would have gotten you out."
"Yeah, well, I might have gotten in to one or two. If he hadn't forced me to apply to only Ivies."
"So what are you going to do?"
Billy shrugged. "He wants me to move out. Get a job. It's just... I don't know where I can go."
"Tell me something, Billy, you got a girlfriend?"
He smiled, a little half pull at the corners of his lips. "I got a couple."
Yes, Mr. X could imagine the guy did, handsome as he was. "Someone special?"
Billy's eyes slid over. "They're good for getting off. But they're all over me. Calling and shit, wanting to know where I am, what I'm doing. They want too much, and I, ah..."
"You what?"
Billy's eyes narrowed.
"Go on, son. There's isn't anything you can't tell me."
"I, ah, I like them better when they're hard to get..." He cleared his throat. "Actually, I like it when they're trying to get away."
"You like to catch them?"
"I like to take them. You know what I mean?" Mr. X nodded, thinking that was one more vote in Riddle's favor. No ties to family. No ties to a girlfriend. And his sexual dysfunction would be taken care of during the induction ceremony.
Riddle grabbed for the door handle. "Anyway, thanks, sensei. This was really great."
"Billy."
Riddle paused, glancing back expectantly. "Yes, sensei?"
"What if you came to work for me?"
Riddle's eyes flared. "You mean at the academy?"
"Sort of. Let me tell you a little about what you would be doing and then you can think it over."
Beth was sleeping soundly on her side. When he went over and kissed her, she stirred.
"I'm going upstairs," he said, stroking her cheek. "But I'm not leaving the house."
She nodded, brushed her lips against his palm, and sank back down into the healing rest she needed so badly.
Wrath put on his sunglasses, locked the door behind him, and mounted the stairs. He knew there was a stupid, satisfied grin on his face and that his brothers were going to ride him hard for it.
But what the hell did he care?
He was taking a true shellan. He was going to be mated. And they could kiss his ass.
He pushed open the painting and stepped into the drawing room.
He couldn't believe what he saw.
Marissa in a long creamy gown. The cop in front of her, stroking her face, evidently poleaxed. All around them, the delicious scent of sex in the air.
And then Rhage burst into the room, dagger drawn. The brother was clearly ready to field dress the human for touching what he presumed was Wrath's shellan.
"Take your hands"
Wrath leaped forward. "Rhage! Hold up!"
The brother caught himself as Butch and Marissa looked around frantically.
Rhage smiled and tossed the dagger across the room at Wrath. "Go for it, my lord. He deserves death for putting his hand to her, but can we play with him a little first?"
Wrath caught the knife. "Go back to the table, Hollywood."
"Ah, come on. You know it's better with an audience."
Wrath smirked. "Only for you, my brother. Now leave us."
He threw the dagger back and Rhage sheathed it while leaving. "Man, Wrath, you can be a real buzz kill, you know that? A total fucking buzz kill."
Wrath looked over at Marissa and the cop. He had to approve of the way the human was using his body to protect her.
Maybe the guy was more than just a good opponent.
Butch glared at the suspect and put his arms out, trying to corral Marissa. She refused to stay behind him. Actually sidestepped his body, placing hers in front.
Like she was protecting him?
He grabbed her thin arm, but she resisted.
As that black-haired murderer came forward, she addressed the man sharply and they started talking in a language Butch didn't recognize. She grew heated. The man nodded a lot. Gradually she calmed.
And then the man put his hand on her shoulder and turned his head to look at Butch.
Good God, the guy's neck had a raw wound on one side, like something had chewed on him.
The man spoke. Marissa's reply was hesitant, but then she repeated it in a stronger tone.
"So be it," the bastard said, smiling tightly.
Marissa moved so she was standing side by side with Butch. She looked at him and blushed.
Something had been decided. Something
With a quick movement, the man grabbed Butch's throat.
Marissa screamed. "Wrath!"
Ah, shit, not this again, Butch thought as he struggled.
"She seems to be intrigued by you," the murderer said in Butch's ear. "So I'm going to let you keep breathing. But you hurt her and I'll skin you alive."
Marissa was talking rapidly in that foreign language, cursing the man, no doubt.
"We understand each other?" the man demanded.
Butch narrowed his eyes on those sunglasses. "She's got nothing to fear from me."
"Keep it that way."
"You're another story, however."
The man let go. Straightened Butch's shirt. Smiled.
Butch frowned.
Man, there was something seriously wrong with that guy's teeth.
"Where's Beth?" Butch demanded.
"She's safe. And healthy."
"No thanks to you."
"Thanks only to me."
"Then you've got some weird-ass ways of defining those words. I want to see her for myself."
"Later. And only if she wants to see you."
Butch's anger flared, and the bastard seemed to sense the surge in his body.
"Watch it, cop. You're in my world now."
Yeah, fuck you, buddy.
Butch was about to open his mouth when he felt something grab onto his arm. He looked down. Fear was shining in Marissa's eyes.
"Butch, please," she whispered. "Don't."
The suspect nodded.
"You be polite, and you stay with her," the man said, voice softening as he looked at Marissa. "She's happy to have your company, and she deserves a good shot of happy. We'll see about Beth. Later."
Mr. X took Billy back to the Riddle estate after they'd driven around the city for hours, talking.
Billy's past was perfect, and not just because of the violence he'd perpetrated on others. His father was just the kind of male role model Mr. X liked to see. A total, raving lunatic with a God complex. The man was a former NFL player, big, aggressive and competitive, and he'd ridden Billy since birth.
Nothing the son ever did was good enough. Mr. X's personal favorite was the story of Billy's mother's death. The woman had fallen into the pool after drinking too much one afternoon, and Billy had found her floating facedown. He'd pulled her out of the water and attempted CPR before calling 911. At the hospital, as the toe-tagged body had been wheeled to the morgue, the distinguished senator from the great state of New York had suggested his son had killed her. Evidently, Billy should have known to get an ambulance on the scene first rather than making a half-assed attempt to play paramedic himself.
Mr. X didn't question the merits of matricide. It was just that in Billy's case, the kid had been trained as a lifeguard and had actually tried to save the woman.
"I hate this house," Riddle muttered, staring up at the beautifully lit bricks and columns and shutters.
"Too bad you're on all those waiting lists. College would have gotten you out."
"Yeah, well, I might have gotten in to one or two. If he hadn't forced me to apply to only Ivies."
"So what are you going to do?"
Billy shrugged. "He wants me to move out. Get a job. It's just... I don't know where I can go."
"Tell me something, Billy, you got a girlfriend?"
He smiled, a little half pull at the corners of his lips. "I got a couple."
Yes, Mr. X could imagine the guy did, handsome as he was. "Someone special?"
Billy's eyes slid over. "They're good for getting off. But they're all over me. Calling and shit, wanting to know where I am, what I'm doing. They want too much, and I, ah..."
"You what?"
Billy's eyes narrowed.
"Go on, son. There's isn't anything you can't tell me."
"I, ah, I like them better when they're hard to get..." He cleared his throat. "Actually, I like it when they're trying to get away."
"You like to catch them?"
"I like to take them. You know what I mean?" Mr. X nodded, thinking that was one more vote in Riddle's favor. No ties to family. No ties to a girlfriend. And his sexual dysfunction would be taken care of during the induction ceremony.
Riddle grabbed for the door handle. "Anyway, thanks, sensei. This was really great."
"Billy."
Riddle paused, glancing back expectantly. "Yes, sensei?"
"What if you came to work for me?"
Riddle's eyes flared. "You mean at the academy?"
"Sort of. Let me tell you a little about what you would be doing and then you can think it over."
