That following evening, Marissa was getting out of the shower when she heard the shutters lift for the night.
God, she was tired, but then it had been a busy day. Very busy.
Although the good thing was at least everything she'd had to do had kept her from obsessing about Butch.
Well, mostly kept her mind off him. Okay, sometimes stopped her from thinking about him.
The fact that he'd been hurt by a lesser again was only part of her preoccupation. She wondered where he was and who was caring for him. Not her brother, obviously. But did Butch have someone else?
Had he spent the day with another female, being nursed by her?
Sure, Marissa had talked to him last night and he'd said all the right things: He'd reassured her he was okay.
Hadn't lied about fighting with a lesser. Been up-front about not wanting to come see her until he felt more Page 140
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stable. And he'd told her he'd meet her at First Meal tonight.
She'd assumed if he'd been stilted, it was because he'd been rattled, and she didn't blame him. But it was only after they hung up that she realized everything she'd neglected to ask.
Disgusted with her insecurities, she marched over to the laundry chute and shoved her towel down the mouth of it. As she straightened, she got so dizzy she weaved on her bare feet and had to sink down into a crouch. It was either that or pass out cold.
Please let this need to feed pass. Please.
She breathed deeply until her head cleared, then slowly stood up and headed for the sink. As she cupped her hands under cold water and splashed her face, she knew she was going to have to go to Rehvenge. Just not tonight. Tonight she needed to be with Butch. She needed to see him up close and reassure herself that he was okay. And she had to talk to him. He was the important thing, not her body.
When she felt steady enough, she got dressed in that teal YSL gown. God, she really hated wearing the thing now. It held such bad associations for her, as if the scene with her brother was a nasty smell that had permeated the dress's fabric.
The knock she'd been waiting for came at precisely six o'clock. Fritz was on the other side of the bedroom door, the old male smiling as he bowed.
"Good evening, mistress."
"Good evening. Do you have the papers?"
"As you asked."
She took the file he held out and went to a bureau, where she leafed through the documents and signed on several lines. As she closed the top of the folder, she laid her hand on it. "This is over so fast."
"We have good lawyers, don't we?"
She took a deep breath and handed the power of attorney and the rental papers back to him. Then she went to the bedside table and picked up the bracelet from the suite of diamonds she'd still had on when she'd arrived at the Brotherhood's compound. As she held the glittering length out to the doggen, she had a fleeting thought that her father had given her the set over a hundred years ago.
He would never have guessed how it would be used. Thank the Scribe Virgin.
The butler frowned. "Master does not approve."
"I know, but Wrath has been too kind to me already." The diamonds sparkled as they hung from her fingertips.
"Fritz? Take the bracelet."
"Master really does not approve."
"He's not my ghardian. So it's not his call."
"He is king. Everything is his call." But Fritz took the piece of jewelry.
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As he turned away, the doggen looked so stricken, she said, "Thank you for bringing me some of my undergarments and for dry-cleaning this gown. You are very thoughtful."
He brightened a little at a job well done. "Perhaps you should like me to retrieve a few of your dresses from your trunks?"
She looked down at the St. Laurent and shook her head. "I won't be here for long. Best to leave them packed."
"As you wish, mistress."
"Thank you, Fritz."
He paused. "You should know that I have put fresh roses in the library for your rendezvous this evening with our master Butch. He asked me to get some for your pleasure. He asked me to ensure they were as lovely and pale a gold as your hair."
She closed her eyes. "Thank you, Fritz."
Butch rinsed out his razor, tapped it on the edge of his sink, and shut