She thought of the gorgeous blond man who'd stitched himself up.
"You have others who fight with you, right?"
"My brothers." He took a drink from his wineglass. "As soon as the vampires recognized they were under siege, the strongest and most powerful males were weeded out. Trained to fight. Turned loose against the lessers. Those warriors were then bred to the strongest females over generations until a separate subspecies of vampires emerged. The most powerful of this class were indoctrinated into the Black Dagger Brotherhood."
"Are you brothers by blood?"
He smiled tightly. "In a matter of speaking."
His face shuttered, as if the matter were private. She had the sense that he would say no more about the brotherhood, but she was still curious about the war he was fighting.
Especially because she was about to turn into one of those he protected.
"So it's humans you kill."
"Yes, although they're basically dead already. In order to give his fighters the longevity and strength they would need to fight us, the Omega had to strip them of their souls." Distaste flickered across his harsh features. "Not that having a soul ever prevented a human from coming after us."
"You don't like... us, do you?"
"First of all, half of what's in your veins is from your father's side. And secondly, why would I like humans? They beat the crap out of me before my transition, and the only reason they don't fuck with me now is because I scare the hell out of them. And if it got widely known that vampires existed? They'd come after us even if they weren't in the society. Humans are threatened by anything different, and their response is to fight. They're bullies, picking on the weak, cowering from the strong." Wrath shook his head. "Besides, they irritate me. Look at how their folklore portrays our species. There's Dracula, for Christ's sake, an evil bloodsucker who preys on the defenseless. There's piss-poor B movies and porn. And don't get me started on the whole Halloween thing. Plastic fangs. Black capes. The only things the idiots got right are that we drink blood and that we can't go out in the daylight. The rest is bullshit, fabricated to alienate us and stimulate fear in the masses. Or just as offensive, the fiction is used to create some kind of mystique for bored humans who think the dark side is a fun place to visit."
"But you don't really hunt us, right?"
"Don't use that word. It's them, Beth. Not us. You are not wholly human right now, and soon you won't be human at all." He paused. "And no, I don't hunt them. But if they get in my way, they've got a serious problem."
She considered what he'd said, trying to ignore the panic that rose every time she thought about the transition she was supposedly about to go through.
"When you went after Butch like that... Surely he's not a... whatever, a lesser."
"He tried to keep me from you." Wrath's jaw clenched. "I will level anyone and anything before I'd let that happen. And whether he's your lover or not, if he does it again - "
"You promised me you wouldn't kill him."
"I won't take him out. But I'm not going to go easy on him."
Something worth giving Hard-ass a heads-up on, she thought.
"Why aren't you eating?" Wrath demanded. "You need food."
She looked down. Food? Her life was suddenly a Stephen King novel and he was worried about her diet?
"Eat." He nodded at her bowl. "You want to be as strong as possible for the change."
Beth picked up her spoon, just to get him off her back. The soup tasted like Elmer's glue even though she imagined it was perfectly made, perfectly seasoned.
"You're armed right now, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes, I am."
"Do you ever put down your weapons?"
"No."
"But when we were..." She shut her mouth before the words making love popped out.
He leaned forward. "There's always something within my reach. Even when I take you."
Beth swallowed. Hot thoughts warred with the horrible realization that he was either paranoid or evil was truly always close.
And damn, she thought. Wrath was a lot of things. But he sure wasn't the hysterical type.
There was a long silence between them, until Fritz cleared the soup bowls and brought in plates of lamb. She noticed that Wrath's meat had been cut up for him into bite-sized pieces. Odd, she thought.
"I have something I want to show you after dinner." He picked up his fork, and it