Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood 4)

"Careful, Blay. Playing on his team ain't such a hot idea." The guy shook out his hand and dropped his pants. "Man, that felt good. How was it on your end, John-boy?"

John let that one go and pushed himself free. As his face throbbed to the beat of his heart, he thought of a car blinker for some absurd reason.

Oh, Lord... how bad was the damage? He stumbled over to the row of sinks, and in the long mirror that ran down the length of the wall, he got a look at his puss. Great. Just great. His chin and lip were already swelling.

Blaylock appeared behind him with a cold bottle of water. "Put this on it."

John took the icy Aquafma and eased it onto his face. Then he closed his eyes to avoid seeing either himself or the redhead.

"You want me to tell Zsadist you're not training tonight?"

John shook his head.

"You sure?"

Ignoring the question, John gave the water back and walked out to the gym. The other guys followed in a tense group, stomping over the blue mats and lining up next to him.

Zsadist came out of the Equipment Room, took one look at John's face and got good and pissed off. "Everyone put their hands out, palms down." He walked past each trainee until he stopped in front of Lash. "Nice knuckles. Over against the wall."

Lash sauntered across the gym, looking self-satisfied that he wasn't going to have to work out.

Zsadist stopped in front of John's hands. "Turn 'em over."

John did. There was a heartbeat of silence. Then Zsadist gripped John's chin and forced his head up. "Seeing double?"

John shook his head.

"Nauseous?"

John shook his head.

"This hurt?" Zsadist prodded the jaw a little.

John winced. Shook his head.

"Liar. But that's what I want to hear." Z stepped away and addressed the trainees. "Laps. Twenty. And each time you get to your classmate over there, you drop in front of him and do twenty push-ups. Marine style. Move it."

The groans were loud.

"Do I look like I care?" Zsadist whistled through his teeth. "Move it."

John started off with the rest of them, thinking this was going to be a really long night. But at least Lash wasn't looking quite so pleased with himself...

Four hours later, it turned out John was right.

By the end of the session, they were all exhausted. Z not only ground them into the mats, he kept them longer than usual. Like, centuries longer than usual. The damn training was so grueling that not even John had the energy to keep practicing after they broke for the night. Instead, he went directly to Tohr's office and collapsed in the chair without even showering.

Curling his legs up tight, he figured he would just rest a minute, then go rinse off -

The door swung open. "You okay?" Zsadist demanded.

John didn't look over, just nodded.

"I'm recommending that Lash get kicked out of the program."

John jerked upright and started shaking his head.

"Whatever, John. That's the second time he's gone after you. Or do I have to remind you of the nunchakus thing a few months back?"

No, John remembered. Shit, though.

With too much to say to be able to sign and have Z catch everything, he reached for his pad and wrote with extra neatness: If he gets kicked out, I look weak to the others. I want to fight with these guys someday. How can they trust me if they think I'm a lightweight?

He handed the pad to Zsadist, who held the pages with care in his big hands. The Brother's head dropped low and his brows crunched together, his distorted mouth moving a little as if he were sounding out each word.

When Z was finished, he tossed the pad on the desk. "I won't have that little shit beating on you, John. Just won't have it. But you got a point. I'll slap Lash with some serious probation. But one more of these happy little episodes, and he's out."

Zsadist walked over to the closet where the tunnel access was hidden, then looked over his shoulder. "Listen up, John. I don't want a free-for-all during training. So no going after the bastard even though he deserves it. You just keep your head down and your hands to yourself. Phury and I'll watch him for you, okay?"

John looked away, thinking of how badly he'd wanted to clock Lash. How badly he still wanted to do that.

"John? We clear? No brawling."

After a long moment, John nodded slowly.

And hoped he'd be able to keep his word.

Chapter Twenty-three

Hours and hours and hours later, Butch's ass was so numb he couldn't tell where the floor ended and his butt began. All day long, he'd been sitting in this hallway outside of Marissa's bedroom door. Like the dog he was.

He couldn't say it had been wasted time. He'd done a lot of thinking.

And had made a phone call that had been the right thing to do, though a cringer to get through: He'd bitten the bullet and called his sister Joyce.

Nothing had changed at home. Evidently his family back in South Boston still had no interest in having anything to do with him. And that didn't really bother him because it was the status quo. But it did make him feel bad for Marissa. She and her brother had been tight, so getting turned out by him must have been a truly nasty surprise.

"Master?"

Butch looked up. "Hey, Fritz."

"I have what you asked for." The doggen bowed low and held out a black velvet bag. "I believe it matches your specifications, but if it does not, I can find another."

"I'm sure it's perfect." Butch took the heavy satchel, split it open at the mouth, and poured the contents into his hand. The solid gold cross was three inches long and two inches wide, thick as a finger. Suspended at the end of a long, gold chain, it was exactly what he'd wanted and he put it around his neck with satisfaction.

The substantial weight was just as he'd hoped it would be, a tangible protection.

"Master, how is it?"

Butch smiled up at the doggen's wrinkled face, while unbuttoning his shirt and dropping the necklace inside. He felt the cross slide down his skin until it lay right over his heart. "Like I said, perfect."

Fritz beamed, bowed, and took off, just as the grandfather clock started chiming down at the other end of the corridor. Once, twice... six times.

The bedroom door in front of him swung open.

Marissa appeared before him as an apparition. After so many hours of thinking about her, his eyes were momentarily snowed, seeing her not as real but as a figment of his desperation, her dress ether not cloth, her hair a glorious golden aura, her face a haunting well of beauty. As he stared up at her, his heart transformed her into an icon from his Catholic childhood, the Madonna of salvation and love... and him her unworthy servant.

He dragged himself off the floor, his spine cracking as it supported his weight. "Marissa."

Ah, shit, his emotions were all right there in his rusted-out voice, the pain, the sadness, the regret.

She held her hand up. "I meant what I said in that message last night. I loved being with you. Every moment. That wasn't why you had to leave and I wish I could have explained myself better at the time. Butch, we need to talk."

"Yeah, I know. But do you mind if we go down the hall for this?" Because he had no intention of having an audience, and no matter what she said, he figured she'd prefer not to be in a bedroom alone with him. She was tense as hell.

When she nodded, they headed to the sitting room at the end of the corridor, and on the way, he was stunned by how weak she was. She moved slowly, as if she couldn't feel her legs, and she was terribly pale, nearly transparent from a lack of energy.

Once inside the peach and yellow room, she went over to the windows, away from him.

Her words were thin as breath as she spoke. "Butch, I don't know how to say this..."

"I know what's doing."

"You do?"

"Yes." He started toward her, arms out. "Don't you know I would do anything - "

"Don't come any closer." She stepped back. "You've got to stay away from me."

He dropped his hands. "You need to feed, don't you?"

Her eyes widened. "How did you - "

"It's all right, baby." He smiled a little. "It's very all right. I talked with V."

"So you know what I've got to do? And you don't... mind?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine with it. More than fine."

"Oh, thank the Scribe Virgin." She lurched over to a sofa and sat down as if her knees had buckled. "I was so afraid you'd be offended. It'll be hard on me as well, but it's the only safe way. And I can't wait any longer. It has to be tonight."