The other half was a gratitude so great, her chest could barely contain the emotion.

“Ladies,” she said, putting her arm around Bella’s waist. “Let’s do the addressing quickly—so we can get to the undressing.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“I’m sorry … they’re doing what?”

As Butch spoke, he looked at the males-only group sitting around the mansion’s dining room table. Not one of his brothers or any of the soldiers was laughing or talking loudly. The bunch of sad sack losers was just sitting in front of half-eaten plates and untouched rocks glasses of vodka, bourbon and whiskey like a roll call of bassett hounds who’d lost their anti-depressants.

Not what he’d expected to find as he came late to Last Meal.

When Marissa had texted him and told him she was working with the females on something, it had seemed like a good idea to take care of some trainee stuff.

He hadn’t banked on this funeral thing just cuz the ladies were doing a project.

“Hello?” he demanded. “You guys lost your hearing along with your sac or something?”

Wrath inhaled like he was about to break the news of a death in the family. “They’re having a movie night.”

Butch rolled his eyes and went over to his chair. Yeah, it was a little weird to sit down without his Marissa by his side, but for crissakes, it was nothing to go Prozac over. Besides, he was glad his woman had friends in the house—

“They’re watching Magic Mike,” someone said.

“Is that a children’s show?” He sat back as Fritz put a heaping plate of lamb in front of him. “Thanks, man—oh, thanks, yeah, I’d love a drink. I’ll take a Lagavulin on the rocks—”

Butch stopped talking as he realized the entire table of males was looking at him. “What?”

“You haven’t heard about Magic Mike?” Rhage demanded.

“No.” He leaned back again as his drink was delivered. “Thanks. Is it like Barney?”

“It’s about strippers,” Hollywood countered.

Butch frowned and lowered the glass from his lips. “I’m sorry?”

V came in from the pantry with a thick pouch of tobacco, a pack of rolling papers, and a scowl like somebody had stripped his favorite sex toy of its batteries.

“Naked,” Vishous muttered as he sat where Marissa should have been. “Buck-ass naked. And they’re humans. Christ, it’s like being shown up by a pack of dogs.”

“In thongs,” someone else bitched. “Dogs in thongs.”

Butch followed through on taking a drink this time, swallowing the burn, welcoming the heat in his gut. Okay, fine, it was a bit of a surprise to find that he kept going until the glass was empty, but hey, he had a lot to think about. On one level, the fact that his shellan was watching a movie with her buddies, even if it did involve some nakey, really wasn’t a big deal.

On another level, he wanted to find the electrical box and cut the power to that part of the mansion.

Then torch the DVD. And the screen.

And take his mate to bed just to show her all the tricks he had over some actor in a—oh, God, a thong?

“It’s fine,” he heard himself say as he motioned to a doggen for a refill. “I mean, first of all, they love us—and second, it’s not like it’s an X rated—”

“They show a cock pump,” Lassiter said with a wide smile, like he was helping. “And in action. You know, it’s on a cock and it’s pumping—”

Vishous unsheathed a dagger from somewhere and pointed the thing at the fallen angel’s head. “You keep talking like that and I’ma trim your hair. With my eyes closed.”

Lassiter laughed. “Yeah, whatever, big boy. I thought you had more mojo than to get worked up over something like this. You really that insecure?”

“You want insecure,” V said. “I’ll make you—”

“Okay, okay,” Butch cut in. “Leave it, V. It’s fine, it’s great—they’re just enjoying themselves. What’s wrong with that? It’s not like they’re sleeping with the guy.”

“You sure about that?” Lassiter smiled. “You don’t think they’re fantasizing about—”

The collective growl that rose up from the Brotherhood was so loud, it managed to agitate the crystals in the enormous chandelier hanging over the table. And the fallen angel was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid.

Moving slowly, like there were multiple guns pointed at him, he put his hands up in submission. “Sorry. Whatever. I’ll stop before all this lame-ass uncomfortability you bunch of morons are sporting kills me.”

“Wise choice,” Butch said dryly. “Not that I wouldn’t mind hitting you right now. Although that’s not specific to this sitch.”

Lassiter went back to eating, shoving food into his face.

The Brothers weren’t so quick to do a reset on things, those narrowed eyes and bared fangs still trained on the angel with the big mouth.

“Come on, boys, it’s fine.” He cut a piece of lamb off and put it in his mouth. “Mmm. Delish.”

In reality, the stuff tasted like cardboard, but he made a show of the yummies. He couldn’t keep it up, though.

Two minutes later, he was shoving a full plate away and nursing his second whiskey. “Really. They should have a little independence. They don’t need to be locked at our hips, and listen, life here revolves around us. It’s about time they do something just for them. Really. This is great.”