Out in the living room, the Pit’s door to the outside opened with a creaking sound, and a blast of cold air shot down the hallway—bringing with it the stench of lessers.

“Butch?” She shot to her feet and rushed out. “Butch…?”

The groaning and cursing were an answer in and of themselves—and then she was rounding the corner into the open room and stopping short.

V had her mate in a fireman’s hold, the Brother taking that bent and battered body to the leather sofa and flopping it down.

Butch was bleeding, covered in slayer blood, and half-dead.

He was also emitting that sickly sweet odor of lessers consumed.

As she gasped and ran over, V ripped off his own jacket, exposing cuts and bruises—and as Marissa stroked Butch’s matted hair, the Brother joined the male on the sofa, entwining his warrior’s body with that of his best friend’s. The glow that came next started like something off in the distance, or perhaps a lantern seen through a thick fog, but soon enough, the illumination, the sacred essence of Vishous’s mother, overtook the room, bright as sunlight on a sheet of metal, warm as a banked fire, and the only savior Butch had.

V’s power was a curse in the wrong context, but a miracle as it was used now—because it was going to drain the evil out of her mate, rescuing him, making him strong in a way that only Vishous could.

She had never resented the connection the two had, had never been jealous that another provided something so necessary to the one she loved. She was just grateful there was a way to keep Butch from dying. Ever since the Omega had abducted him and infected him, he’d had the ability to consume slayers, destroy them in a way that “killing” them did not: Butch’s consumption of their essence was a one-way ticket out of the universe.

But it came at such a cost.

Sometime later, the light began to recede and then the two of them just lay there, both exhausted. As Butch opened his lids, his hazel eyes went immediately to her and he lifted his shaking hand.

With a gentle smile, she took his palm and put it to her face, rubbing it against her cheek. “I love you, I love you…”

“Okay?” he croaked out. “You?”

“Now that you’re home safe, yes. A thousand yeses.”

V cracked his lids and stared up at her with lolling eyes. Even though she rarely touched the Brother—because face it, Vishous was not a warm-and-fuzzy kind of guy—she reached out and brushed his cheek.

In a rare moment of tenderness, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm.

And then, a short time later, it was time to get her mate in the shower. As V was wasted on the sofa, Marissa helped Butch down the hall and into their room. Or almost their room. He insisted on stopping and stripping out in the hall so he could put his filthy clothes immediately into the laundry chute that dumped into the tunnel down below.

Their private bath was simple and small and cozy, and as she always did in these situations, she made Butch sit on the toilet while she got the shower to the right temperature. When all was ready, she helped him up, pushed him under the spray and propped him against the corner.

Taking his robe from her body, she stepped in with him.

He’d been hard before she did the reveal. And the instant he saw her body, his erection got even thicker.

There would be time to share their stories after this. Now? It was about finding that wavelength between them, plugging into each other, communicating without words.

Taking the soap and a washcloth, she started with his face, wiping over those features she loved so much before moving to his throat, the pads of his pecs, the ridges of his abdominals. She washed every part of him, even his arousal, which she stroked with the washcloth.

Butch arched under her touch. He was too weak to do much else, his weight sliding down until he was sitting on the built-in marble bench. With his head lazing around, he watched her work him.

And then she put the cloth aside.

Getting on her knees, she felt the warm water washing down her back as she moved in between his thighs.

He was magnificent, collapsed back into the corner, big arms lax, warrior’s body exhausted.

Yet his eyes were hot.

Wrapping her hands around his cock, she opened her mouth and went down on him, swallowing as much as she could of his length, sucking on him, working him.

In response, Butch groaned and curled his hips.

She took her sweet time, plying him, going faster and then slowing down, squeezing his balls.

And then she looked up.

He was still watching her, his fangs descended, his mouth open and panting. From time to time, he seemed to try to move. The best he could manage was a flopping of his hands, though.

“Marissa…” he said hoarsely.

“Yes?”

While she waited for him to answer, she traced her mouth with his head. Then she ran her tongue in a circle around him.

“Finish me,” he groaned. “Oh, God … finish me…”

The smile she gave him came from deep inside.

Then, with anticipation, she went back to work.

And did her job very, very well.

Chapter Forty-four

As night fell the following evening, Paradise was pacing around her bedroom in her bathrobe.

Craeg hadn’t called. Not at seven in the morning when he usually did. Not at two in the afternoon when he maybe couldn’t sleep. And not at six when he was probably up and about to eat with Axe in the cafeteria.

Something had obviously changed.

And she hoped like hell it wasn’t the one-and-done thing. Some males wanted only what they hadn’t had yet, and although she would be shocked to discover Craeg was that much of a douche, she couldn’t think what else might explain him not calling.