mouth shut.
"Well done, council," the leahdyre said. "I shall now call the roll of the six voting princeps." As each name was read, the corresponding princeps rose, gave the consent of his or her bloodline and affixed the seal of the family's ring upon the parchment. This happened without a glitch five times. And then the last name was spoken. "Havers, blooded son of Wallen, blooded grandson of..."
As her brother rose from his chair, Marissa rapped her knuckles sharply on the table. All eyes shot to her. "Wrong name."
The leahdyre's eyes went so wide she was quite sure he could see behind himself. And he was so aghast at her interruption, he was speechless as she smiled a little and glanced at Havers. "You may sit down, physician," she said.
"I beg your pardon," the leahdyre stammered.
Marissa got to her feet. "It's been so long since we've done one of these votes... not since Wrath's father died." She leaned forward on her hands as she pegged the leahdyre's face with a level stare. "And back then, centuries ago, my father lived and cast our family's vote. So obviously that is why you are confused."
The leahdyre looked at Havers in a panic. "Perhaps you will inform your sister she is out of order - "
Marissa cut in. "I'm not his sister anymore, or so he's told me. Though I believe we can all agree that blood lineage is immutable. As is the order of birth." She smiled coolly. "It so happens that I was born eleven years before Havers. Which makes me older than he is. Which means he can sit down because as the eldest surviving member of my family, the vote from our bloodline is mine to cast. Or not. And in this case, it is most definitely... not."
Chaos broke out. Absolute pandemonium.
In the midst of which, Rehv laughed and clapped his palms together. "Hot damn, girl. You are so the shit."
Marissa took little joy in the power play, feeling more relieved than anything else. The vote had to be unanimous or that stupid motion was going nowhere. And thanks to her that was a big fat nowhere.
"Oh... my God," someone said.
As if a drain opened in the center of the floor, all the noise was sucked out of the room. Marissa turned around.
Rhage was in the doorway of the library holding a pre-transition male by the scruff of the neck. Behind him were Vishous... and Butch.
Chapter Forty-six
Standing in the library's archway, Butch did his best not to flat-out stare at Marissa, but it was tough. Especially because she was sitting next to Rehvenge.
He tried to distract himself by looking around. The meeting she was in was full of highfliers. Christ, looked like a political summit, except for the fact that they were all dressed to the nines, especially the females. Man, Elizabeth Taylor's jewelry box had nothing on these chicks.
And then the drama bomb went off.
The guy at the head of the table looked over, saw Lash, and went corpse-white. Rising slowly, he seemed to have lost his voice. As had everyone else in the room.
"We need to talk, sire," Rhage said while giving Lash a shake. "About your boy's extracurricular activities."
Rehvenge stood up. "We sure as hell do."
This broke up the meeting like an axe to an ice block. Lash's dad whipped out of the library and hurry Rhage, Rehvenge, and the kid into a sitting room. Like he was utterly mortified. Meanwhile, the fancy types got up from the table and started to mill around. None of them looked happy, and most of them shot hard looks in Marissa's direction.
Which made Butch want to teach them how to show some respect. Until they were bleeding from the lesson.
As his fists cranked tight, his nostrils flared and he sifted through the air, finding Marissa's scent and absorbing it into every pore he had. Naturally, his body went apeshit being so near her, the damn thing heating up, getting urgent. Shit, it was all he could do to get his arms and legs to stay put. Especially as he felt her look at him.
When a cool breeze tunneled into the house, Butch realized the huge front door was still open from their arrival with the kid. As he looked out into the night, he knew it was better for him to go. Cleaner. Neater. Less dangerous, too, given how badly he wanted to pound - grind these snobs for treating Marissa with coldness.
He walked out of the house and