Marissa's mouth fell open. "My lord?"
Beth nodded. "That's a fabulous idea. And you know, Mary used to work with social services when she was a volunteer at the Suicide Prevention Hotline. You could start with her. I think she's really familiar with DSS."
"I... yes... I'll do that." Marissa looked at Butch and in response, the guy smiled, a slow, very male expression of respect. "Yes, I... I'll do it. I..." The female crossed the room in a daze, only to stop, at the door. "Wait, my lord? I've never done anything like this before. I mean, I've worked at the clinic, but - "
"You're going to handle it just fine, Marissa. And, as a friend of mine told me once, you're going to ask for help when you need some. Got it?"
"Uh... yes, thank you."
"Lot of work ahead of you."
"Yes..." She curtsied, even though she was wearing pants.
Wrath smiled a little, then looked at Butch, who was going after his female. "Yo, cop, you and V and I are getting together tonight. It's a go. Be back here in an hour."
Butch seemed to pale. But then he nodded and took off with Vishous in tow.
As Wrath refocused on his shellan, John quickly scribbled something on the pad and held it out to Beth. After she read it aloud for the king, Wrath inclined his head.
"You go right ahead, son. And yeah, I know you're sorry. Apology accepted. But you sleep up here from now on. Don't care if it's in that chair or in a bed down the hall, you sleep here now." As John nodded, the king said, "And one more thing. Every night at four a.m. you're taking a walk with Zsadist."
John blew a whistle in an ascending note.
"Why? Because I said so. Every night. Otherwise, you're out of the training program and you're out of here. Dig? Whistle twice if you understand me and agree to this."
John did as he asked.
Then he awkwardly signed thank you. And left.
Chapter Thirty-three
Forty-five minutes later, Butch stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Marissa with Mary and John. The three were bent over a diagram explaining New York State's interlocking human services agencies, Mary was taking the case study approach to teaching Marissa how it all worked, and John had volunteered to be the case.
Jesus, the kid had had it rough. Born in the bathroom of a bus station. Picked up by a janitor and taken to the Catholic orphanage. Then housed with foster parents who didn't give a shit after Our Lady downscaled its program. And it got worse: Quitting school at sixteen. Running away from the system. Living in squalor while he supported himself as a busboy downtown. He was lucky to be alive.
And Marissa was clearly going to help kids like him.
As the discussion continued, Butch noticed that her voice changed. Deepened. Grew more direct. Her eyes sharpened and her questions got even sharper. She was, he realized, incredibly smart, and she was going to be good at this.
God, he loved her. And he wanted desperately to be what she needed. What she deserved.
As if on cue, he heard footsteps and smelled V's Turkish tobacco. "Wrath is waiting, cop."
Butch stared at his woman for a moment longer. "Let's do it."
Marissa looked up. "Butch? I would love to get your thoughts on a police force." She tapped the diagram. "I can see a lot of scenarios where we are going to need law enforcement intervention. Wrath is going to need to consider starting up some kind of civil guard."
"Anything you want, baby." His eyes memorized her face. "Just give me a few, okay?"
Marissa nodded, smiled in a distracted way, and went back to her work.
Unable to resist, he walked over and touched her shoulder. When she glanced up, he kissed her on the mouth and whispered, "I love you."
As her eyes flared, he kissed her again and turned away. Man, he hoped like hell this ancestor regression turned up something other than a shitload of Irish whitebread.
He and Vishous walked upstairs to the study and found the frilly French room empty except for Wrath... who was standing in front of the fire, one thick arm on the mantel. The king looked like he had brain strain as he stared into the flames.
"My lord?" V said. "This still a good time?"
"Yeah." Wrath motioned them in, his black diamond ring flashing on his middle finger. "Shut the doors."
"You mind if I get a little muscle?" V nodded down the hall. "I want Rhage in here holding the cop."
"Fine." As Vishous left, Wrath stared at Butch with such intensity, his eyes were like torches burning behind his wraparounds. "I didn't expect the Scribe Virgin to let us do this."
"I'm glad she is." Way glad.
"You understand what you're signing on for here? This is going to hurt like a bitch and you could end up a vegetable on the other side."
"V's done the full disclosure. I'm good."
"Check you out," Wrath murmured with approval. "You're so tight about this."
"What are my choices if I want to know? None. So getting all up in my head is not going to help."
The double doors clicked shut and Butch looked across the study. Rhage had damp hair and was wearing beat-to-shit blue jeans, a black fleece, and no shoes or socks. Absurdly, Butch noticed that even the guy's feet were gorgeous. Yeah, no hairy-knuckled, nasty-nail action for Hollywood. Bastard was head-to-toe perfection.
"Man, cop," the brother said. "You really going to do this?"
As Butch nodded, Vishous stepped in front of him and started to take off his glove. "Need you to lose the shirt, buddy."
Butch stripped to the waist, tossing his Turnbull & Asser on the sofa. "Can I keep the cross on?"
"Yup, shouldn't melt. Much." V shoved his glove into his back pocket, then whipped his black belt from his hips and held the leather strap out to Rhage. "I want you to put this thing in his mouth and hold it in place so he doesn't crack his teeth. But don't make any contact with him. You're going to get a sunburn anyway, being this close."
Rhage stepped in behind, but the sound of knocking on the doors interrupted everything.
Marissa's voice drifted through the wood panels. "Butch? Wrath?" More knocking. Getting louder. "My lord? Is there something going on?"
Wrath cocked an eyebrow at Butch, who replied, "Let me talk to her."
As Wrath willed the doors open, Marissa burst into the room. She took one look at V's ungloved hand and Butch's bare chest and went white as snow.
"What are you doing to him?"
Butch walked up to her. "We're going to find out if I have something of your kind in me."
Her mouth fell open. Then she wheeled on Wrath. "Tell them no. Tell them they can't do this. Tell them - "
"It's his choice, Marissa."
"It will kill him!"
"Marissa," Butch said, "it's worth the risk to find out about me."
She pivoted toward him, her stare furious, positively glowing with light. There was a pause. Then she slapped him across the face.
"That is for not caring about yourself." Without taking a breath, she slapped him again, another crack echoing into the ceiling. "And that is for not telling me what you were doing."
Pain blazed in his cheek, throbbed to the beat of his heart.
"Can you boys give us a minute?" he said softly, eyes not leaving her pale face.
When the brothers disappeared, Butch tried to take her hands, but she snapped them back, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Marissa... this is the only way out I can see."
"Way out of what?"
"There's a chance I can be who you need me to be - "
"Who I need you to be? I need you to be yourself! And I need you to be alive!"
"This is not going to kill me."
"Oh, and you've done it before, so you know that for sure? I'm so relieved."
"I have to do this."
"You do not - "
"Marissa," he snapped. "You want to put yourself in my shoes? You want to try on for size the idea that you love me but I have to be with someone else, live off someone else, while you can do nothing about it, month after month, year after year? You want to think about what it's like to know that you're going to die first and leave me alone? You want to be a second-class citizen in the world I live in?"
"So you're saying you'd rather be dead than be with me?"
"I told you, this isn't going to - "