desperation, Wrath pressed his lips to her palm, then squeezed his eyes shut in agony. "Tell them... tell them to let go slowly. And Beth... Beth, I'm going to come at you. I can't... stop that. But it'll be better than killing him..."
"Yeah... much better," Butch agreed.
Beth stepped back and braced herself. "Let him go."
It was like turning a tiger loose. Marissa ducked and scrambled out of the way while Wrath threw Vishous off with such force the brother slammed into a cabinet.
In one coordinated launch, the king went for Beth and bit her on the throat. As she gasped and fell back in ecstasy, Wrath wheeled around and nailed Butch with pure murder in his eyes.
It was obvious the king drank now not for sustenance but to mark, and his bonding scent was a screaming warning that filled the room. As soon as he felt his point had been made, he picked his shellan up in his arms and left. There was no question where they were headed: nearest room with a door so he could get inside of her.
Butch reached out for Marissa, and she came to him in the manner of hope to the disaffected: an illuminating warmth, a promise of a future worth living, a loving benediction. As she bent over him and held on tight, he Page 262
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kissed her softly and spoke a whole lot of nonsense, the words leaving him in an uncontrolled, un-thought-out rush.
When they separated a little to breathe, he looked at Vishous. The brother was standing awkwardly next to the open door and staring down at the floor, his big body trembling ever so slightly.
"V?"
V's diamond eyes lifted and he blinked quick. "Hey, man." As Butch reached out a hand, Vishous shook his head. "Glad you're back, cop."
"Fuck you, come here. V... gitcha ass over here."
V shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked to the gurney. Marissa was the one who linked them, drawing Vishous's arm up and out so Butch could reach the brother's palm.
"You all right?" Butch asked, squeezing.
For a split second, his grip was returned. Then V stomped one of his shitkickers like a horse and broke the contact. "Yeah. Fine."
"Thank you."
"Yeah."
V was so twitchy, Butch took pity on him and changed the subject. "So is it over? Is that it?"
V stroked his goatee and glanced at the clock. Then looked at Butch's body. "Let's wait another ten minutes."
Okay, fine. Butch passed the time running his hands up and down Marissa's arms. And shoulders. And face.
And hair. Eventually, V murmured, "I guess it is done."
Even though there was a curious disappointment in the brother's voice, Butch grinned. "Well, that wasn't too bad. Except for the dying part, of course. That wasn't..." He let the sentence drift and frowned.
"What is it?" Marissa said.
"I don't know. I-" Something was happening... something in his gut...
Vishous came over to the table. "What's going on, cop?"
"I..." The vast wave of pain came over him like a shroud of nails, wrapping around his body, cutting into him from every angle possible. He gasped under the onslaught, his vision conking out, then coming back. "Oh, shit. I'm dying . .."
Vishous's face appeared in front of his. And the bastard was smiling... a big, fat Cheshire cat grin. "This is the change, my friend. Now... now you're turning."
"What the f-" He didn't get the word out. Red-hot agony became all he knew and he receded deep within himself, getting lost in the swirling torture. As it intensified even further, he hoped to pass out. No such luck.
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After a hundred and fifty light-years of suffering, the popping started: The bones in his thighs were the first to snap and he howled, but there was no time to dwell on it because his upper arms were next. Then his shoulders. His spine... his lower legs... hands... feet... his skull screamed and his jaw ached. He rolled over...
spit out two teeth...
Through the hurricane of the change, Marissa was with him, talking to him. He held on to her voice and the image of her in his head, the only thing steady in his world of suffering.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Way across town, in a very nice, very secluded house, John finished his first beer. And then his second. And his third. He was surprised his stomach could handle them, but they went down smooth and stayed that way.
Blaylock and Qhuinn were on the floor in front of the bed, locked in