Dark Lover

Yeah, and Butch had no reason to ask anyway. Because he wasn't on the force.

The guy stroked Beth's back and shook his head. "I won't lie to you, cop. Occasionally, a human gets in the way of what we do. And if anyone threatens our race, I will kill them, no matter who or what they are. But I'm not going to tolerate human casualties the same way I used to, and not just because it risks our exposure." He pressed a kiss onto Beth's mouth, meeting her eyes.

At that point, the rest of the gang members filed into the room. Their cold stares made Butch feel like a bug under glass. Or a roast beef about to be carved up.

Mr. Normal stepped forward and offered him a Scotch bottle. "You look like you could use some."

Yeah, you think?

Butch took a swig. "Thanks."

"So can we kill him now?" said the one with the goatee and the baseball hat.

Beth's man spoke harshly. "Back off, V."

"Why? He's just a human."

"And my shellan is half-human. The man doesn't die just because he's not one of us."

"Jesus, you've changed your tune."

"So you need to catch up, brother."

Butch got to his feet. If his death was going to be debated, he wanted in on the discussion.

"I appreciate the support," he said to Beth's boy. "But I don't need it."

He went over to the guy with the hat, discreetly switching his grip on the bottle's neck in case he had to crack the damn thing over a head. He moved in tight, so their noses were almost touching. He could feel the vampire heating up, priming for a fight.

"I'm happy to take you on, asshole," Butch said. "I'll probably end up losing, but I fight dirty, so I'll make you hurt while you kill me." Then he eyed the guy's hat. "Though I hate clocking the shit out of another Red Sox fan."

There was a shout of laughter from behind him. Someone said, "This is gonna be fun to watch."

The guy in front of Butch narrowed his eyes into slits. "You true about the Sox?"

"Born and raised in Southie. Haven't stopped grinning since '04."

There was a long pause.

The vampire snorted. "I don't like humans."

"Yeah, well, I'm not too crazy about you bloodsuckers."

Another stretch of silence.

The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the World Series?"

"The New York Yankees," Butch replied.

The vampire laughed in a loud burst, whipped the baseball cap off his head, and slapped it on his thigh. Just like that, the tension was broken.

Butch let out a long breath, feeling like he'd just been missed by an eighteen-wheeler. As he took another swig from the bottle, he decided it had been one weird fucking night.

"Tell me that Curt Schilling was not a god," the vampire said.

There was a collective groan from the other men. One of them muttered, "If he starts going on about Varitek, I'm outta here."

"Schilling was a true warrior," Butch said, taking another hit of the single-malt. When he offered the Scotch to the vampire, the guy grabbed the bottle and took a hard pull.

"Amen to that," the vampire said.

Chapter Thirty-nine

When Marissa walked into her bedroom, she took a little spin, feeling her gown splay out around her.

"Where have you been?"

She stopped midtwirl. The dress came to a heel in a swirling rush.

Havers was sitting on the chaise, his face in shadow. "I asked, where were you?"

"Please don't take that tone-"

"You saw the brute."

"He's not a-"

"Do not defend him to me!"

She wasn't going to. She was going to tell her brother that Wrath had listened to her recrimations and accepted all blame for the past. That he'd apologized and his regret had been tangible. That although his words couldn't make up for what had happened, she felt that she had been heard.

And that even if her former hellren was the reason she'd gone to Darius's, he wasn't why she'd stayed.

"Havers, please. Things are much different." After all, Wrath had told her he was to be mated. And she had… met someone. "You must hear me out."

"No, I mustn't. I know that you go to him still. That is enough."

Havers got off the chaise, moving without his usual grace. As he stepped into the light, she was horrified. His skin was gray, his cheeks hollow. He'd been getting thinner and thinner of late. Now, he looked like a skeleton.

"You are ill," she whispered.

"I am perfectly well."

"The transfusion didn't work, did it?"

"Do not try to change the subject!" He glared at her. "God, I never thought it would come to this. I never thought you would hide from me."

"I have hidden nothing!"

"You told me you had broken the covenant."

"I did."

"You lie."

"Havers, listen to me-"

"No longer!" He did not meet her eyes as he opened the door. "You are all I have left, Marissa. Do not ask me to politely sit aside and play witness your destruction."

"Havers!"

The door slammed.

With grim determination, she ran out to the hall. "Havers!"

He was already at the head of the stairs, and he refused to look back at her. His hand slashed violently in the air behind him, as if he were dismissing her.