Trouble was, his blood was buzzing through his veins and his head was spinning with a whole lot of nothing specific, everything urgent bullshit.
God, class had ended two hours ago and he'd worked out even after the other trainees had left. Plus he hadn't slept well for a week. You'd think he'd be out like a light.
Then again, maybe he was still worked up over Lash. That SOB had been all over him about passing out in front of the whole class yesterday. Man, John hated that kid. He really did. That arrogant, rich, snarky-
"Open your eyes, boy, I know you're awake."
John went into a full-body jerk and nearly landed on the floor. As he hauled himself back up, he saw Zsadist in the doorway to the office, dressed in that uniform of skintight turtle-neck and loose sweats.
The expression on the warrior's face was as hard as his body. "Listen up, because I'm not going to say this again."
John gripped the arms of the chair. He had a feeling what this was about.
"You don't want to go to Havers's, fine. But cut the shit. You're skipping meals, you look like you haven't slept for days, and your attitude is beginning to irritate the fuck out of me."
Yeah, this wasn't like any parent/teacher conference John had ever had. And he wasn't taking the criticism well: Frustration swirled in his chest.
Z jabbed his forefinger across the room. "You stop marking Lash, we clear? Leave the fucker alone. And from now on, you come up to the house for meals."
John frowned, then reached for his pad so he'd be sure Z would understand what he wanted to say.
"Forget about a response, boy. I'm not interested." As John started to get downright pissed, Z smiled, revealing monstrous fangs. "And you know better than to get up in my grill, don't you."
John looked away, certain the Brother could break him in half without any effort at all. And resentful as hell about that fact.
"You will quit it with Lash, you feel me? Do not make me get involved with the two of you. Neither of you will like it. Nod so I know you understand."
John nodded, feeling ashamed. Angry. Exhausted.
Choking on all the aggression inside of him, he blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes. God, he'd been so calm all his life, maybe even timid. Why was everything setting him off lately?
"You're getting close to the change. That's the why of it."
John slowly lifted his head. He'd heard that right, hadn't he?
Am I? he signed.
"Yeah. That's why it is imperative that you learn how to control yourself. If you make it through the transition, Page 98
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you're going to come out the other side with a body capable of things that will floor you. I'm talking about raw physical strength. The brute kind. The kind that can kill. You think you got problems now? Wait'll you have to deal with handling that load. You need to learn your control now."
Zsadist turned away, but then paused and looked over his shoulder. Light fell on the scar that ran down his face and distorted his upper lip. "One last thing. Do you need someone to talk to? About... shit?"
Yeah, right, John thought. Over his dead body he was going back to Havers to see that therapist.
Which was why he refused to go get checked out. Last time he'd tangled with the race's physician, the guy had blackmailed him into a therapy session he hadn't wanted, and he had no intention of repeating the Dr. Phil hour. With everything going on recently, he wasn't getting into his past again, so the only way he was going back to that clinic now was if he was bleeding out.
"John? You want to talk to someone?" When he shook his head, Z's eyes narrowed. "Fine. But you get the message about you and Lash, right?"
John looked down and nodded.
"Good. Now drag your ass up to the house. Fritz has made you dinner and I'm going to watch you eat it. And you will eat all of it. You need to be strong for the change."
Butch walked closer to the slayers and they weren't threatened by him at all. If anything, they were annoyed, like he wasn't doing his job.
"Behind you, dumb ass," the one in the middle said. "Your target's behind you. Two Brothers."
Butch circled around the lessers, reading their imprints instinctively. He sensed that the tallest