believe the scene inside. A couple of slaughtered dogs. Blood everywhere. One really dead body - Jesus, that was Billy Riddle.
And then he saw Beth.
She was wearing a long T-shirt that was covered with blood and dirt, her eyes gone mad as she knelt by Wrath's body with one wrist to his lips. When she noticed them, she hissed and brought up her knife, prepared to fight.
Vishous went forward, but Butch grabbed his arm. "Let me go first."
Slowly, Butch stepped over to her. "Beth? Beth, you know who we are."
But the closer he got to Wrath, the crazier her eyes became.
She pulled her wrist away from the man's mouth, ready to defend him.
"Easy, girl. We're not going to hurt him. Beth, it's me."
She blinked. "Butch?"
"Yeah, baby. It's me and Vishous."
She dropped the knife and started to cry.
"Okay, it's okay." He tried to get her into his arms, but she dropped back down to Wrath. "No, baby. Let V look at him, okay? Come on, it'll just take a minute."
She allowed herself to be pulled back. As Butch tore off his shirt and wrapped it around her waist, he nodded to V.
Vishous dropped to Wrath's side. When he looked up from the other vampire's stomach, his lips were tight.
Beth sank down, putting her wrist back in place. "He'll be all right, won't he? We'll just move him to a doctor. To a hospital. Right? Vishous, right?" Desperation made her shrill.
And then suddenly, they weren't alone.
Marissa and a distinguished, frantic-looking man appeared out of nowhere.
The guy went to Wrath's body and lifted the wad of blood-soaked satin. "We've got to get him to my OR."
"My car's on the front lawn," V said. "I'll come back and finish things when he's safe."
The man cursed as he examined the neck wound. He looked at Beth. "Your blood's not strong enough. Marissa, get over here."
Beth was fighting back tears as she lifted her wrist from Wrath's mouth and looked up at the blond woman.
Marissa hesitated. "Are you okay with my feeding him?"
Beth offered Wrath's dagger handle first. "I don't care who he drinks from if it will save him."
Marissa cut herself easily, as if she'd done it many times before. Then she lifted Wrath's head up and pressed the wound to his mouth.
His body jolted like it had been hooked up to a car battery.
"All right, let's move him," said the man who'd taken charge. "Marissa, you keep that wrist right where it is."
Beth took Wrath's hand as the men got him up off the barn floor. They carried him as gently as they could over to Vishous's SUV, laying him out flat in the back. Marissa and Beth got in with Wrath as Butch and Vishous took the front seat. The other man disappeared.
As the Escalade roared over the back roads, Beth stroked Wrath's arm, up and down his tattoos. The skin was cold.
"You love him so very much," Marissa murmured.
Beth looked up. "Is he drinking?"
"I don't know."
Chapter Fifty-one
In the surgical suite's anteroom, Havers snapped off his latex gloves and threw them into a bio-trash container. His back ached after having spent hours leaning over Wrath, stitching up sections of the warrior's intestine and fixing the wound in his neck.
"Will he live?" Marissa asked as she came out of the OR. She was weak from all the blood she'd given. Pale, but intense.
"We'll know soon enough. I hope so."
"As do I." She walked past him, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Marissa - "
"I know you are sorry. But I am not the one to whom you should offer your regrets. You might start with Beth. If ever she is ready to hear you."
As the door slid shut with a hiss, Havers closed his eyes.
Oh, dear God, the pain in his chest. The pain of deeds that could never be undone.
Havers sagged against the wall, pulling the surgical cap off his head.
Thankfully, the Blind King had a true warrior's constitution. He was stout of body, fierce of will. Although he wouldn't have survived without Marissa's nearly pure blood.
Or, Havers suspected, the presence of his dark-haired shellan. Beth, as she was called, had stayed by his side throughout the operation. And even though the warrior had been unconscious, his head had stayed turned toward her. She'd spoken to him for hours, until she had only a hoarse whisper left.
And she was still in there with him now, though she was so exhausted she could barely sit up. She'd refused to let her own wounds be examined, and