Marissa cut in. "I'm not his sister anymore, or so he's told me. Though I believe we can all agree that blood lineage is immutable. As is the order of birth." She smiled coolly. "It so happens that I was born eleven years before Havers. Which makes me older than he is. Which means he can sit down because as the eldest surviving member of my family, the vote from our bloodline is mine to cast. Or not. And in this case, it is most definitely... not."
Chaos broke out. Absolute pandemonium.
In the midst of which, Rehv laughed and clapped his palms together. "Hot damn, girl. You are so the shit."
Marissa took little joy in the power play, feeling more relieved than anything else. The vote had to be unanimous or that stupid motion was going nowhere. And thanks to her that was a big fat nowhere.
"Oh... my God," someone said.
As if a drain opened in the center of the floor, all the noise was sucked out of the room. Marissa turned around.
Rhage was in the doorway of the library holding a pre-transition male by the scruff of the neck. Behind him were Vishous... and Butch.
Chapter Forty-six
Standing in the library's archway, Butch did his best not to flat-out stare at Marissa, but it was tough. Especially because she was sitting next to Rehvenge.
He tried to distract himself by looking around. The meeting she was in was full of highfliers. Christ, looked like a political summit, except for the fact that they were all dressed to the nines, especially the females. Man, Elizabeth Taylor's jewelry box had nothing on these chicks.
And then the drama bomb went off.
The guy at the head of the table looked over, saw Lash, and went corpse-white. Rising slowly, he seemed to have lost his voice. As had everyone else in the room.
"We need to talk, sire," Rhage said while giving Lash a shake. "About your boy's extracurricular activities."
Rehvenge stood up. "We sure as hell do."
This broke up the meeting like an axe to an ice block. Lash's dad whipped out of the library and hurry Rhage, Rehvenge, and the kid into a sitting room. Like he was utterly mortified. Meanwhile, the fancy types got up from the table and started to mill around. None of them looked happy, and most of them shot hard looks in Marissa's direction.
Which made Butch want to teach them how to show some respect. Until they were bleeding from the lesson.
As his fists cranked tight, his nostrils flared and he sifted through the air, finding Marissa's scent and absorbing it into every pore he had. Naturally, his body went apeshit being so near her, the damn thing heating up, getting urgent. Shit, it was all he could do to get his arms and legs to stay put. Especially as he felt her look at him.
When a cool breeze tunneled into the house, Butch realized the huge front door was still open from their arrival with the kid. As he looked out into the night, he knew it was better for him to go. Cleaner. Neater. Less dangerous, too, given how badly he wanted to pound - grind these snobs for treating Marissa with coldness.
He walked out of the house and took a meander across the front lawn, strolling over the muddy spring ground for a while before doubling back toward the house. He stopped as he came up to the Escalade because he knew he was no longer alone.
Marissa stepped from behind the SUV. "Hello, Butch."
Jesus, she was so beautiful. Especially up close like this.
"Hey, Marissa." He put his hands in the pockets of his leather coat. And thought about how he missed her. Wanted her. Craved her. And not just for sex.
"Butch... I - "
Abruptly, he tensed, his eyes picking up on something that was coming across the lawn. A man... a white-haired man... a lesser.
"Shit," Butch hissed. In a rush, he grabbed Marissa and started hauling her back toward the house.
"What are you doing - " As soon as she saw the lesser, she stopped fighting him.
"Run," he commanded. "Run and tell Rhage and V to get their asses out here. And lock that f**king door." He gave her a shove and wheeled around, not taking a breath until he heard a heavy slam and then bolts being pushed home.
Well, what do you know. It was the Fore-lesser coming up the lawn.
Man, he wished he didn't have an audience. Because before he killed the guy, he really wanted to tear him apart as payback. Eye for an eye, so to speak.
As the bastard got closer, the slayer lifted his hands in surrender, but Butch didn't buy the act. Or the one-man gig. He let his instincts roam around, expecting to find a whole legion of slayers on the grounds. Surprisingly, there were none.
Still, he felt safer as V and Rhage materialized behind him, their bodies displacing the cold air.
"I think it's just him," Butch murmured, his body primed for a fight. "And I don't need to tell you this... but he's mine."
As the slayer came closer, Butch got ready to spring, but then shit got weird. Holy hell - he had to be seeing things. The lesser couldn't have tears flowing down his face, could he?
In an anguished voice, it said, "You, the cop. Take me... finish me. Please..."
"Don't trust this," Rhage said from the left.
The lesser's eyes shifted to the brother and then returned to Butch. "I just want this over. I'm trapped... Please, kill me. It has to be you, though. Not them."
"My f**king pleasure," Butch muttered.
He lunged at the guy, expecting all manner of fight to come back at him, but the bastard put up no resistance at all, just landed on his back like a bag of sand.
"Thank you... thank you..." The freaky-ass gratitude ran out of the lesser's mouth, a stream without end, marked with aching relief.
As Butch felt the urge to inhale come over him, he held on to the Fore-lesser's throat and opened his mouth, acutely aware of the eyes of the glymera staring out from the Tudor mansion. Right as he started to draw, all he could think of was Marissa. He didn't want her to see what was going to happen next.
Except... nothing did. There was no exchange. Some kind of block was preventing the evil from being transferred.
The Fore-lesser's eyes cracked wide in panic. "It worked... with the others. It worked! I saw you..."
Butch kept inhaling until it was clear that for whatever reason, this was one he couldn't consume. Maybe because it was the Fore-lesser? Who the f**k cared.
"With the others..." the lesser was babbling. "With the others, it worked..."
"Not with you apparently." Butch reached to his hip and unsheathed his knife. "Good thing there's another way." He hauled back, lifting the blade over his head.
The lesser screamed and started to flail. "No! He'll torture me! Nooooooooo - "
The hollering died right off as the slayer popped and fizzled.
Butch sighed in relief, glad he'd done the deed.
Only to have a wave of malice shoot through him, burning like the extremes of cold and heat combined. As he gasped, nasty laughter bubbled up from out of nowhere and weaved through the night, the kind of disembodied sound that made a man think about his own coffin.
The Omega.
Butch grabbed for his cross through his shirt and sprang to his feet just as a static-filled apparition of the Evil appeared before him. Butch's body rebelled, but he didn't step back. Dimly, he felt Rhage and V close in tight with him, flanking him, protecting him.
"What is, cop?" V murmured. "What are you looking at?"
Shit, they couldn't see the Omega.
Before Butch could explain, the distinctive, echoing voice of the Evil weaved in and out of the wind, in and out of his head. "So you are the one, are you not? My... son, as it were."
"Never."
"Butch? Who are you talking to?" V said.
"Did I not sire you, then?" The Omega laughed some more. "Did I not give you part of me, then? Yes, I did. And you know what they say about me, don't you?"
"I don't want to know."
"You should." The Omega reached out a ghostly hand, and though it closed no distance between them, Butch felt it on his face. "I always claim what is mine. Son."
"Sorry, my Father position is already filled."
Butch dragged his cross out and let it dangle from its chain. Dimly, he thought he heard V curse, as if the brother had figured out what was going on, but his attention was only on what was in front of him.
The Omega looked at the heavy piece of gold. Then flicked his glance over Rhage and V and the house behind. "Trinkets don't impress me. Neither do the Brothers. Nor the sturdiest locks and doors."