Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood 4)

The Omega.

The Evil laughed a little. "So you know what I am, do you?" It straightened. "Given you anything, has he, Fore-lesser?"

"I'm not finished."

"Ah, so that is no. And you have worked him well, given how close to death he is. Yes, I can feel it coming to him. So close." The Omega bent down again and inhaled the air over Butch's body. "Yes, within the hour. Maybe less."

"He'll last as long as I want him to."

"No, he won't." The Omega started to circle the table and Butch tracked the movement, terror getting tighter and tighter, strengthening in the centrifugal force of the Evil's pacing. Around, around, around... Butch trembled so badly his teeth clapped together.

The shaking dried up the second the Omega came to a halt at the far end of the table. Shadowy hands lifted up, grasped the white robe's hood, and pulled it off. Overhead, the bald light-bulb flickered as if its illumination were sucked in by the black form.

"You are letting him go," the Omega said, that voice like a wave, filtered and enhanced by the air in turns. "You are leaving him out in the woods. You are telling the others to stay away from him."

What? Butch thought.

"What?" the Fore-lesser said.

"The Brotherhood has among its weaknesses a paralyzing loyalty, do they not? Yes, paralyzing fidelity. They claim what is theirs. It is the animal in them." The Omega held out its hand. "A knife, please. I am of a mind to make this human useful."

"You just said he was going to die."

"But I'm going to give him a little life, as it were. As well , as a gift. Knife."

Butch's eyes cracked wide open as an eight-inch hunting number changed hands.

The Omega placed one hand on the table, put the blade to the tip of its finger, and bore down. There was a crack, like a carrot had been cut.

The Omega leaned over Butch. "Where to hide, where to hide..."

As the knife came up and hovered over Butch's abdomen, Butch screamed. And he was still screaming as a shallow slice was made into his belly. Then the Omega picked up the little part of itself, the black digit.

Butch fought, yanking against the binds. Horror had his eyes bulging until the pressure on his optic nerve blinded him.

The Omega inserted its fingertip into Butch's gut, then bent low and blew over the fresh cut. The skin sealed up, the flesh knitting together. Immediately, Butch felt the rotting inside him, sensed the evil worming around, moving. He lifted his head. The skin around the cut was already turning gray.

Tears raced to his eyes. Seeped down his raw cheeks.

"Release him."

The Fore-lesser went to work on the chains, but when they were off, Butch realized he couldn't move. He was paralyzed.

"I will take him," the Omega said. "And he will survive and find his way back to the Brotherhood."

"They'll sense you."

"Perhaps, but they will take him."

"He'll tell them."

"No, because he won't remember me." The Omega's face tilted toward Butch. "You won't remember a thing."

As their stares met, Butch could feel the affinity between them, could sense the bond, the sameness. He wept for the violation of himself, but more for the Brotherhood. They would take him in. They would try to help him in whatever way they could.

And sure as the evil in him, he would end up betraying them.

Except maybe Vishous or the brothers wouldn't find him. How could they? And with no clothes on, surely he would die from exposure fast.

The Omega reached out and wiped the tears from one of Butch's cheeks. The shimmer of wetness was iridescent against those translucent black fingers, and Butch wanted what had come out of him back. Not to be. Lifting the hand to its mouth, the Evil savored Butch's pain and fear, licking... sucking.

Despair scrambled Butch's memory, but the faith he'd thought he'd foresworn spit out another line of the Psalm: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

But that was no longer possible now, was it? He had evil inside him, under his skin.

The Omega smiled, though Butch didn't know how he knew it. "Pity we don't have more time, as you are in a fragile state. But there will be opportunities for you and me in the future. What I claim as my own always comes back to me. Now, sleep."

And like a lamp being clicked off, Butch did.

"Answer the f**king question, Vishous." V looked away from his king just as the grandfather clock in the corner of the study started to go off. It stopped at four chimes, so it was four in the afternoon. The Brotherhood had been in Wrath's command central all day long, prowling around the ridiculously elegant Louis XIV salon, saturating the delicate air of the place with their anger.

"Vishous," Wrath growled, "I'm waiting, How will you know how to find the cop? And why didn't you mention this before now?"

Because he'd known it was going to create problems, and their shopping cart of shit was already full.

As V tried to think of what he could say, he looked at his brothers. Phury was on the pale blue silk couch in front of the fireplace, his body dwarfing the piece of furniture, his multicolored hair now back down past his jawline. Z was behind his twin, up against the mantel, his eyes back to black because he was enraged. Rhage was by the door, his beautiful face set in a nasty expression, his shoulders twitching as if his inner beast was likewise rip shit pissed.

And then there was Wrath. Behind a dainty desk, the Blind King was all menace, his cruel visage set hard, his weak eyes hidden behind black-framed wraparounds. His heavy forearms, marked on the insides with tattoos of his pure-blooded lineage, were planted on a gold-embossed blotter.

That Tohr was not with the group was a gaping wound to all of them.

"V? Answer the question or so help me God I'll beat it out of you."

"I just know how to find him."

"What are you hiding?"

V went over to the bar, poured himself a couple fingers of Grey Goose, and hammered the shot. He swallowed a number of times and then let the words fly.

"I fed him."

A chorus of inhales floated around the room. As Wrath rose in disbelief, V poured himself another hit of Goose.

"You did what?" The last word was bellowed.

"I had him drink some of me."

"Vishous..." Wrath stalked around the desk, shitkickers hitting the floor like boulders. The king got face-to-face close. "He's a male. He's human. What the f**k were you thinking?" More vodka. Definitely time for more Goose.

V swallowed the shot and poured number four. "With my blood in him, I can find him and that's why I had him drink. I saw... that I was supposed to. So I did it, and I would do it again."

Wrath wheeled away and paced around the room, hands cranked into fists. As the boss man walked off frustration, the rest of the Brotherhood looked over with curiosity.

"I did what I had to," V snapped, throwing his glass back.

Wrath stopped by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The thing was shuttered for the day, no light coming through. "Did he take your vein?"

"No."

A couple of the brothers cleared their throats, like they were urging him to be honest.

V cursed and poured some more. "Oh, for God's sake, it's not like that with him. I gave him some in a glass. He didn't know what he was drinking."

"Shit, V," Wrath muttered, "you could have killed him outright - "

"It was three months ago. He got through it, so there's no harm done - "

Wrath's voice rang out loud as an air strike. "You violated the law! Feeding a human! Christ! What am I supposed to do with this?"

"You want to serve me up to the Scribe Virgin, I'll go willingly. But I want to be clear. First, I find Butch and bring him home, dead or alive."

Wrath popped up his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes, a habit he'd developed lately when he got tired of the king shit. "If he was interrogated, he may have talked. We could be compromised."

V looked down into his glass and slowly shook his head. "He'd die before giving us up. I guarantee it." He swallowed the vodka and felt it slide down his throat. "My man is good like that."

Chapter Five

Rehvenge had not seemed at all surprised when she called him, Marissa thought. But then, he'd always had this uncanny way of reading her.

Gathering up her black cloak, she stepped out the back of her brother's mansion. Night had just fallen, and she shivered, though not because of the cold. It was that horrible dream she'd had during the day. She'd been flying, flying across the landscape, flying over a frozen pond with pines on its far side, going farther past a ring of trees, until she'd slowed and peered downward. On the snowy ground, curled up and bleeding, she saw... Butch.