a smile. "No. I am Myself."
"You're beautiful."
"I know." Her voice became authoritative again. "Your right palm, Butch O'Neal, descended of Wrath son of Wrath."
Butch let go of Marissa, regripped her with his left hand, and reached forward. When the Scribe Virgin touched him, he flinched. Though his bones weren't crushed, the awesome strength in her was merely shelved potential. She could grind him to powder on a whim.
The Scribe Virgin turned to Marissa. "Child, give me yours now."
The instant that connection was made, a warm current flooded Butch's body. At first he assumed it was because the heating system in the room was really cooking, but then he realized the rush was under his skin.
"Ah, yes. This is a very good mating," the Scribe Virgin pronounced. "And you have my permission to join for however long you have together." She dropped their hands and looked at Wrath. "The presentation to me is complete. If he lives, you shall finish the ceremony as soon as he is well enough."
The king bowed his head. "So be it."
The Scribe Virgin turned back to Butch. "Now, we shall see how strong you are."
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"Wait," Butch said, thinking about the glymera. "Marissa's mated now, right? I mean, even if I die, she will have had a mate, right?"
"Death wish," V said under his breath. "Fucking Death Wish Boy we got over here."
The Scribe Virgin seemed flat-out amazed. "I should kill you now."
"I'm sorry, but this matters. I don't want her falling under that whole sehclusion thing. I want her to be my widow so she doesn't have to worry about anyone else leading her life."
"Human, you are astoundingly arrogant," the Scribe Virgin snapped. But then she smiled. "And totally unrepentant, aren't you."
"I don't mean to be rude, I swear. I just need to know she's taken care of."
"Have you had use of her body? Have you taken her as a male does?"
"Yeah." As Marissa turned bright pink, Butch tucked her face into his shoulder. "And it was... you know, with love."
As he whispered something soothing to Marissa, the Scribe Virgin seemed touched, her voice turning almost kind. "Then she shall be as you say, your widow, and not fall under any provisions affecting unmated females."
Butch sighed in relief and stroked Marissa's back. "Thank God."
"You know, human, if you learned some manners, you would fare well with me."
"If I promise to work at it, will you help me live through what's coming?"
The Scribe Virgin's head fell back as she laughed in a loud burst. "No, I will not help you. But I find myself wishing you very well, human. Very well indeed." Abruptly, she glared at Wrath, who was smiling and shaking his head. "Do not assume such leeway with etiquette applies to others who seek me out."
Wrath ditched the grin. "I am well aware of what is proper, as are my brothers."
"Good." The robes shifted back into place, lifting up and going over her head without the help of hands. Just before her face was covered, she said, "You will wish to bring the queen to this room before you commence."
And then the Scribe Virgin disappeared.
Vishous whistled between his teeth and wiped his brow with his forearm. "Butch, man, you are so lucky she liked you, true?"
Wrath flipped open his cell phone and started dialing. "Shit, I thought we were going to lose you before we even started-Beth? Hey, my leelan, could you come to the gym?"
Vishous grabbed a stainless-steel tray stand and wheeled it over to a cabinet. As he started putting things in sterile wraps on top, Butch shifted his legs around and stretched out on the gurney.
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He stared up at Marissa. "Things don't work out, I'll wait for you in the Fade," he said, not because he believed it but because he wanted to reassure her.
She bent down and kissed him, then stayed with her cheek against his until V quietly cleared his throat. As Marissa stepped back, she began to speak in the Old Language, a soft rush of desperate words, a prayer that was more breath than voice.
V brought the tray stand up to the gurney, then went to Butch's feet. As the brother moved around, he had something in his hand, but he wasn't showing what it was, keeping his arm always out of sight. There was a metallic clank and the far end of the table tilted up. In the heat of the room, Butch felt the blood rush