Dark Lover

Chapter Twenty-nine

"So Butch, you gonna hang around until I get off tonight?" Abby smiled as she poured him another Scotch.

"Maybe." He didn't want to, but after a couple more he might change his mind. Assuming he could still get it up while he was drunk.

With a shift to the left, she looked behind him at another guy, shooting the man a little wink while flashing some cleavage.

Covering her bases. Probably a good idea.

Butch's cell phone vibrated on his belt, and he grabbed it. "Yeah?"

"We've got another dead prostitute," Jose said. "Thought you'd want to know."

"Where?" He leaped off the bar stool like he had somewhere to go. Then sat back down, slowly.

"Trade and Fifth. But don't come over. Where are you?"

"McGrider's."

"Ten minutes?"

"I'll be here."

Butch pushed the Scotch away as frustration tore through him.

Was this how he was going to end up? Getting drunk every night? Maybe working a PI or a security job until he got fired for being a derelict? Living alone in that two-room apartment until his liver kicked it?

He'd never been one for plans, but maybe it was time he made some.

"You didn't like that one?" Abby said, framing the shot glass with her breasts.

Reflexively, he reached for the damn thing, brought it to his lips, and tossed it back.

"That's my man."

But when she went to pour him another, he covered the top with his hand. "I think I'm done tonight."

"Yeah, right." She smiled when he shook his head. "Well, you know where to find me."

Yeah, unfortunately.

Jose took longer than ten minutes. It was a good half hour before Butch saw the detective cutting through the crowd of drinkers, a grim figure in his casual clothes.

"Do we know her?" Butch asked before the man could sit down.

"Another one of Big Daddy's. Carla Rizzoli. A.k.a. Candy."

"Same MO?"

Jose ordered a vodka straight up. "Yup. Throat slit, blood everywhere. There was some residue on her lips like she'd been foaming at the mouth."

"H?"

"Probably. The medical examiner's going to do the autopsy first thing tomorrow."

"Anything found at the scene?"

"A dart. Like you'd shoot an animal with. We're having it analyzed." Jose polished off the vodka with a quick tilt of his head. "And I heard Big Daddy's pissed. He's looking for revenge."

"Yeah, well, hopefully he'll take it out on Beth's boyfriend. Maybe a war will drive that bastard out of hiding." Butch set his elbows onto the bar. Rubbed his achy eyes. "Goddamn it, I can't believe she's protecting him."

"Man, I never saw that one coming. She finally picks someone—"

"And he's a total lowlife."

Jose looked over. "We're going to have to call her in."

"I figured." Butch focused his eyes by squinting. "Listen, I'm supposed to meet her tomorrow. Give me a crack at her first, will ya?"

"I can't do that, O'Neal. You're not—"

"Yeah, you can. You just schedule her for the day after."

"The investigation is moving forward—"

"Please." Butch couldn't believe he was begging. "Come on, Jose. I've got a better shot than anyone at getting through to her."

"Why's that?"

"Because she watched him almost kill me."

Jose looked down at the grotty bar top. "You've got one day. And nobody'd better find out, because the captain will have my head. Then no matter what, I gotta interrogate her at the station."

Butch nodded while Abby came dancing back over with a Scotch bottle in one hand and a liter of vodka in the other.

"You're looking dry, boys," she said with a giggle. The message in her lusty smile and her vacant eyes was getting louder, more desperate, as the night crawled to an end.

Butch thought of his empty wallet. His empty holster. His empty apartment.

"I gotta get out of her," he muttered, sliding off the stool. "I mean, here."

Wrath's arm absorbed the shotgun's load, and the impact twisted his torso like rope. He went with the force of the hit, spinning to the ground, but he didn't stay down. Moving fast and low, he got the hell out of the way, not giving the shooter a chance to nail him again.

The fifth lesser had come out of nowhere. And it was packing a heavy load in that sawed-off.

Behind a pine tree, Wrath quickly took stock of the injury. Nothing too deep. Some skin and muscle stripped off his biceps. Bone was intact. He could still fight.

He took out a throwingstar and stepped into the open.

And that was when a tremendous flash of light illuminated the clearing.

He leaped back into the shadows. "Aw, Christ!"

Now they were all in for it. The beast was coming out of Rhage. And the shit was going to hit the fan.

Rhage's eyes glowed white as headlights as his body mutated in a ghastly display of tearing and ruptures. Something horrible took his place, its scales glistening in the moonlight, its claws slicing through the air. The lessers didn't know what hit them as the creature attacked with a full set of fangs, going after them until their blood ran down its huge chest in a river.

Wrath stayed back. He'd seen this before, and the beast didn't need help. Hell, if you got too close, you were liable to get a body trim.

When it was all over, the creature let out a howl so loud, the trees bowed away, their branches blown asunder.

The slaughter was absolute. There was no hope of getting any identification off the lessers because there were no bodies. Even their clothes had been consumed.

Wrath stepped into the clearing.

The creature swung around, panting.

Wrath kept his voice low and his hands at his sides. Rhage was in there somewhere, but until he came out again, you couldn't assume the beast would remember who the brothers were.

"We're cool," Wrath said. "You and me, we've done this before."

The beast's chest pumped up and down, nostrils quivering as it sniffed the air. Glowing eyes fixated on the blood running down Wrath's arm. A snort came out. The claws lifted.

"Forget it. You did your thing. You're fed. Now, let's have Rhage back."

The great head shook back and forth, but its scales started to vibrate. A high-pitched protest breached the creature's throat, and then there was another flash.

Rhage fell naked to the ground, landing face-first in the dirt.

Wrath ran over and dropped to his knees, reaching out. The warrior's skin was slick with sweat, and he was shaking like a newborn in the cold.

Rhage shifted at the touch. Tried to lift his head. Failed.

Wrath took the brother's hand and squeezed it. The burn on reentry was always a bitch.

"Relax, Hollywood, you're good. You're doing good." He took off his jacket and gently covered his brother.

"You're just going to hang here and let me take care of you, dig?"

Rhage mumbled something and curled into a ball.

Wrath flipped open his cell phone and dialed. "Vishous? We need a car. Now. You're kidding me. No, I gotta move our boy. We just had a visit from his other side. But you tell Zsadist not to fuck around."

He hung up and looked at Rhage.

"Hate this," the brother said.

"I know." Wrath moved the sticky, blood-soaked hair out of the vampire's face. "We're going to get you home."

"Didn't like seeing you shot."

Wrath smiled softly. "Clearly."

Beth stirred, burrowing deeper into the pillow.

Something wasn't right.

She opened her eyes just as a deep male voice broke the silence. "What the fuck do we have here?"

She bolted upright. Looked frantically to the sound.

The man towering over her had black, lifeless eyes. A harsh face with a jagged scar running down it. Hair that was practically shaved it was so short. And long, white fangs that were bared.

She screamed.

He smiled. "My favorite sound in all the world."

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

God, that scar. It ran down his forehead, over his nose, across his cheek, and back around to his mouth. The tail end of the 5 distorted his upper lip, pulling one side into a permanent sneer.

"Admiring my artwork?" he drawled. "You should see the rest of me."

Her eyes darted to his broad chest. He was wearing a skintight, long-sleeved black shirt. On both his pecs, small rings were evident beneath the material, as if he had his nipples pierced. As she looked back up at his face, she saw he had a black band tattooed around his neck and a plug in his left earlobe.

"Pretty, aren't I?" His cold stare was the stuff of nightmares, of dark places where no hope could be found, of hell itself.

Forget the scar, she thought. Those eyes were the scariest thing about him.

And they were fixated on her as if he were sizing her up for a shroud. Or for some sex.

She moved her body away from him. Started looking around for something she could use as a weapon.

"What, you don't like me?"

Beth eyed the door, and he laughed.

"Think you can run fast enough?" he said, pulling the bottom of his shirt free from the leather pants he had on. His hands moved to his fly. "I'm damn sure you can't."

"Get away from her, Zsadist."

Wrath's voice was a sweet relief. Until she saw that he had no shirt on and his arm was in a sling.

He barely looked at her. "Time to go, Z."

Zsadist smiled coldly. "Not willing to share the female?"

"You only like it if you pay for it."

"So I'll flip her a twenty. Assuming she lives through the sex."

Wrath kept coming at the other vampire, until they stood nose-to-nose. The air crackled around them, supercharged by their aggression.

"You're not touching her, Z. You're not looking at her. You're going to say good-night and walk the fuck out of here." Wrath removed the sling, exposing a bandage on his biceps. There was a red blush in the center as if he were bleeding, but he looked ready to take on the other man.

"Bet you're pissed you needed a ride home tonight," Zsadist said. "And that I was the closest one with a car."

"Don't make me regret it more."

Zsadist took a step to the left, and Wrath went with him, using his body to shield her.

Zsadist chuckled, a deep, evil rumble. "You're actually willing to fight for a human?"

"She's Darius's daughter."

Zsadist's head snapped to the side, those black pits of his probing her features. After a moment, there was a subtle softening in his brutal face, a drop in the sneer. And then he made a point to tuck in his shirt while looking her in the eye. As if he were apologizing.

Wrath did not step off, however.

"What's your name?" Zsadist asked her.

"Her name's Beth." Wrath put his head into the path of Zsadist's vision. "And you're leaving."

There was a long pause.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Zsadist strode over to the door, moving with the same lethal prowl Wrath did. Before he left, he stopped and looked back.

He must have been truly handsome once, Beth thought. Although it wasn't the scar that made him unattractive. It was the hellfire inside of him.

"Nice to meet you. Beth."

She let her breath out as the door closed and the locks flipped into place.

"Are you okay?" Wrath asked. She could feel his eyes running over her body, and then he gently put his hands on her. "He didn't… he didn't touch you, did he? I heard you scream."

"No. No, he just scared me. I woke up and he was in the room."

Wrath sat down on the bed, still passing his palms over her as if he didn't believe she was okay. When he seemed satisfied, he pushed his hair back. His hands were shaking.

"You're hurt," she said. "What happened?"

He put his good arm around her and pulled her against his chest. "It's nothing."

"Then why do you need a sling? And a bandage? And why are you still bleeding?"

"Shhh." He put his chin on the top of her head. She could feel his body trembling.

"Are you ill?" she asked.

"I just have to hold you for a minute. Okay?"

"Absolutely."

As soon as his body calmed, she pulled away. "What's the matter?"

He took her face in his hands. Pressed his lips to hers. "I couldn't bear it if he'd… taken you away from me."

"That guy? Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere with him." And then she realized Wrath wasn't talking about a date. "You think he was going to kill me?"

Not that she couldn't see how that might have been possible. So cold. Those eyes had been so cold.

Instead of answering. Wrath's mouth came down on hers. She stopped him.

"Who is he? And what happened to him?"

"I don't want you near Z again. Ever." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was tender. His voice was not. "Are you listening to me?"

She nodded. "But what—"

"He walks into a room and I'm in the house, you come and find me. If I'm not around, you lock yourself in one of these rooms down here. The walls are made of steel, so he can't materialize inside. And don't ever touch him. Not even inadvertently."

"Is he a warrior?"

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yeah, but it would help if I knew a little more."

"He's one of the brothers, but he's nearly soulless. Unfortunately, we need him."

"Why, if he's so dangerous? Or is it only toward women?"

"He hates everyone. Except maybe his twin."

"Oh, great. There are two like him?"

"Thank God for Phury. He's the only one who can get through to Z, although even then, it's not a sure thing." Wrath kissed her forehead. "I don't want to scare you, but I need you to take this seriously. Zsadist's an animal, but I think he respected your father, so he may leave you alone. I just can't take any chances with him. Or you. Promise me that you'll stay away from him."

"Okay." She closed her eyes and leaned into Wrath. His arm came around her, but then he shifted back.

"Come on." He pulled her up to her feet. "Come to my chamber."

When they walked into Wrath's room, Beth heard the shower shut off. A moment later, the door opened.

The warrior she'd met before, the movie-star-handsome one who'd been stitching himself up, came out slowly. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair was dripping. He moved as if he were eighty, as if every muscle in his body hurt.

Good lord, she thought. He didn't look at all well, and there was something way wrong with his stomach. It was swollen, like he'd swallowed a basketball. Unsure what to make of his midsection, she wondered whether his wound was infected. He looked feverish.

She glanced at his shoulder and frowned when she could barely see a mark. It was as if the injury had occurred months ago.

"Rhage, man, how we feeling?" Wrath asked, leaving her side.

"Belly hurts."

"Yeah. I can imagine."

Rhage swayed as he looked around the room, eyes barely open. "Going home. Where my clothes?"

"You lost them." Wrath put his good arm around his brother's waist. "And you're not leaving, you're crashing in D's room."

"Am not."

"Don't start. And we're not waltzing here. Will you lean on me, for Christ's sake?"

The other man sagged, and Wrath's back muscles tightened as he absorbed the weight. The two of them slowly made their way out to the landing and then into her father's chamber. She stayed at a discreet distance, watching as Wrath helped Rhage slide into bed.

As the warrior leaned back against the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut. His hand moved to his stomach, but he winced and let it fall to the side, as if the slightest pressure were torture.

"Feel sick."

"Yeah, indigestion's a bitch."

"Do you want some Turns?" Beth blurted out. "Alka-Seltzer?"

Both vampires looked over at her, and she felt as if she'd intruded on the moment.

Of all the stupid things—

"Yeah," Rhage muttered as Wrath nodded.

Beth walked back to her purse and decided on Alka-Seltzer because it had aspirin in it for his aches. She went into Wrath's bathroom, grabbed a glass, and did the plop-plop, fizz-fizz thing.

When she returned to her father's bedside, she offered the glass to Wrath. He shook his head.

"You'll spill less than I will."

She flushed. It was so easy to forget he couldn't really see.

She leaned over Rhage, but couldn't reach his mouth. Hiking up the robe, she climbed onto the mattress and knelt next to him. She felt awkward being so close to a naked, virile man in front of Wrath.

Considering what had happened to Butch.

But come on, Wrath had nothing to worry about here. No matter how sexy the other vampire was, she didn't feel any heat as she sidled up to the guy.

And he sure as hell wasn't about to come on to her. Not given the kind of shape he was in.

She gently lifted Rhage's head and put the edge of the glass to his beautifully shaped lips. It took him five minutes to sip the liquid down. When he was finished, she started to get off the bed. She didn't get far. With a great lurch, he pitched over onto his side and put his head in her lap, throwing one muscular arm around behind her.

He was seeking comfort.

Beth didn't know what she could really do for him, but she put the glass aside and stroked his back, running her hand over his fearsome tattoo. She murmured things she wished someone had whispered to her when she felt ill. Hummed a little for him.

After a while, the tension left his skin and bones. He began breathing deeply.

When she was sure he was out cold, she carefully extracted herself from his grasp. As she turned to meet Wrath's gaze, she braced herself. Surely he'd know there was nothing—

Shock stilled her.

Wrath wasn't mad. Far from it.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely. The bow of his head was almost humble. "Thank you for caring for my brother." He took his sunglasses off. And looked at her with total adoration.