old life, cop. You know that, right? Because you've seen too much of us. We wouldn't be able to scrub your memories clean enough.”
“You telling me to pick out a casket?”
“Hope not. But it's not my call. Depends a lot on you.” There was a pause. “You don't have much to go back to, do you?”
Butch looked up at the ceiling.
When the brothers had let him check his messages this morning, there'd been only one. It had been the captain, telling him to come in for the results of Internal's investigation.
Yeah, like that was an appointment he needed to keep. He knew damn well what the outcome would be. He was going to be fired and served up as a sacrificial lamb to combat the image of police brutality. Or he was going to be put out to pasture at a desk job.
As for his family? Ma and Pop, bless them, were still in their row house in Southie, surrounded by the surviving sons and daughters they loved so much. Though still mourning Janie, they were happy in their retirement years. And Butch's brothers and sisters were so busy having babies, raising babies, and thinking about having more babies, that they were totally tied up with their family obligations. In the O'Neal clan, Butch was just a footnote. The Dark One Who Had Failed to Procreate.
Friends? José was the only one he could even remotely consider a friend. Abby wasn't even that. She was just a screw every now and again.
And after meeting Marissa last night, he'd lost his interest in casual sex.
He glanced over at the vampire. “Naw, I don't have anything.”
“I know what that feels like.” Vishous rustled around as if he were trying to get comfortable. When he settled on his back, he threw one heavy arm over his eyes.
Butch frowned as he caught sight of the vampire's left hand. It was covered with tattoos, dense, intricate designs that ran down the back of it, onto the palm, and around each finger. It must have hurt like a bitch to have done.
“V?”
“Yeah?”
“What's doing with the tats?”
“I didn't pester you about your curse, cop.” Vishous put the arm away. “If I'm not up by eight, wake me, true?”
“Yeah. True.” Butch closed his eyes.
Black Dagger Brotherhood 1 - Dark Lover
Chapter Forty-two
In the chamber downstairs, Beth turned off the shower, reached for a towel, and clonked her new engagement ring on the marble counter.
“Oh, not good. Really not good…” She cradled her hand, thinking she was lucky Wrath was upstairs checking on preparations for the ceremony. Although maybe that cracking sound had carried to the first floor.
She braced herself before she looked down, convinced she'd either knocked the ruby loose or taken a hunk out of the stone. But it was fine.
Not that she was in a big hurry to bash it around again. Never one for rings, she was going to have to get used to wearing the thing.
Would that all of life's little adjustments be so hard , she thought wryly. Fiancé slides a priceless hunk of geology on your finger. What a bummer.
She had to smile as she dried off. Wrath had been so proud to put that ring on her. He'd told her it was a gift from someone whom she'd meet tonight.
At her wedding.
She paused with the towel. God, that word. Wedding.
Who'd have ever thought she'd—
Someone knocked on the chamber door.
“Hello, Beth? Are you in there?” The unfamiliar female voice was muffled.
Beth drew on Wrath's robe and went over, but didn't open the door. “Yes?”
“It's Wellsie. I'm Tohr's shellan. I thought you might like someone to help you get through tonight, and I've brought a gown for you, in case you don't have one already. Well, I'm also just your average nosy female, so I wanted to meet you.”
Beth cracked the door.
Whoa.
There was nothing average about Wellsie. She had flame red hair, a face like a Greco-Roman goddess, and an aura of total self-possession. Her bright blue gown set off her coloring like an autumn sky over changing leaves.
“Ah, hi,” Beth said.
“Hi, yourself.” Wellsie's sherry-colored eyes were shrewd without being cold. Especially as she started to smile. “Aren't you gorgeous. No wonder Wrath fell as hard as he did.”
“Would you like to come in?”
Wellsie marched into the room, carrying a long flat box and a big bag. She gave off an air of being in charge, but somehow, she didn't seem pushy.
“Tohr almost didn't tell me what was going on. He and Wrath are in