The Black Dagger Brotherhood (52 page)

Read The Black Dagger Brotherhood Online

Authors: J. R. Ward

Whatever. God . . . he was so confused
.
p. 320
Wrath smiled broadly, his fangs so very white. “What's doing . . . cousin.”
Butch frowned. “What . . .?”
“You've got some of me in you, cop.” Wrath's smile stuck around as he slid his glasses back in. “Course, I always knew you were a royal. Just didn't think it went past the pain-in-the-ass part, is all.”
p. 321
Butch looked back at the Scribe Virgin.
“Do you have any idea how relieved—”
As Marissa gasped, V stepped in and slapped his gloved hand over Butch's mouth, yanking him backward by the head and hissing in his ear, “Do you want to get fried like an egg here, buddy? No questions—”
“Ease from him, warrior,” the Scribe Virgin snapped. “This I wish to hear.”
V's grip slid off his face. “Watch it.”
“Sorry about the question thing,” Butch said to the black robes. “But I just . . . I'm glad I know what's in my veins. And honestly, if I die today, I'm grateful I finally know what I am.” He took Marissa's hand. “And who I love. If this is where my life took me after all those years of being lost, I'd say my time here wasn't wasted.”
There was a long silence. Then the Scribe Virgin said, “Do you regret that you leave behind your human family?”
“Nope. This is my family. Here with me now and elsewhere in the compound
.
Why would I need anything else?” The cursing in the room told him he'd thrown another question out there. “Yeah . . . ah, sorry—”
A soft feminine laugh came from under the robes. “You are rather fearless, human.”
“Or you could call it stupid.” As Wrath's mouth fell open, Butch rubbed his face. “You know, I'm trying here. I really am. You know, to be respectful.”
“Your hand, human.”
He offered her his left, the one that was free.
“Palm up,” Wrath barked.
He flipped his hand over
.
“Tell me, human,” the Scribe Virgin said, “if I asked for the one you hold this female with, would you offer it to me?”
“Yeah. I'd just reach over to her with the other guy.” As that little laugh came again, he said, “You know, you sound like birds when you do that chuckle thing. It's nice.”
Over to the left, Vishous put his head in his hands.
There was a long silence.
Butch took a deep breath. “Guess I'm not allowed to say that.”
The Scribe Virgin reached up and slowly lifted the robes from her face.
Jesus . . . Christ . . . Butch squeezed Marissa's hand hard at what was revealed
.
“You're an angel,” he whispered.
Perfect lips lifted in a smile. “No. I am Myself.”
“You're beautiful.”
“I know. ” Her voice became authoritative again. “Your right palm, Butch O'Neal, descended of Wrath son of Wrath.”
Butch let go of Marissa, regripped her with his left hand, and reached forward. When the Scribe Virgin touched him, he flinched. Though his bones weren't crushed, the awesome strength in her was merely shelved potential. She could grind him to powder on a whim.
The Scribe Virgin turned to Marissa. “Child, give me yours now
.”
The instant that connection was made, a warm current flooded Butch's body. At first he assumed it was because the heating system in the room was really cooking, but then he realized the rush was under his skin.
“Ah, yes. This is a very good mating,” the Scribe Virgin pronounced. “And you have my permission to join for however long you have together.” She dropped their hands and looked at Wrath. “The presentation to me is complete. If he lives, you shall finish the ceremony as soon as he is well enough.”
The king bowed his head. “So be it.”
The Scribe Virgin turned back to Butch. “Now, we shall see how strong you are.”
“Wait,” Butch said, thinking about the glymera. “Marissa's mated now, right? I mean, even if I die, she will have had a mate, right?”
“Death wish,” V said under his breath. “Fucking Death Wish Boy we got over here.”
The Scribe Virgin seemed flat-out amazed. “I should kill you now.”
“I'm sorry, but this
matters.
I don't want her falling under that whole
sehclusion
thing. I want her to be my widow so she doesn't have to worry about anyone else leading her life.”
“Human, you are
astoundingly
arrogant,” the Scribe Virgin snapped. But then she smiled. “And totally unrepentant, aren't you.”
pp. 347-349
V was halfway down the hall when he heard a yelp. He hightailed it back, barging through the door. “What? What's—”
“I'm going bald!”
V whipped back the shower curtain and frowned. “What are you tasking about? You've still got your hair—”
“Not my head! My body, you idiot! I'm going bald!”
Vishous glanced down. Butch's torso and legs were shedding, a rush of dark brown fuzz pooling around the drain.
V started laughing. “Think of it this way. At least you won't have to worry about shaving your back as you get old, true? No manscaping for you.”
He was not surprised when a bar of soap came firing at him.
p. 376
As her brother rose from his chair, Marissa rapped her knuckles sharply on the table. All eyes shot to her. “Wrong name.”
The
leahdyre's
eyes went so wide she was quite sure he could see behind himself. And he was so aghast at her interruption, he was speechless as she smiled a little and glanced at Havers. “You may sit down, physician,” she said.
“I beg your pardon,” the
leahdyre
stammered.
Marissa got to her feet. “It's been so long since we've done one of these votes . . . not since Wrath's father died.” She leaned forward on her hands as she pegged the leahdyre's face with a level stare. “And back then, centuries ago, my father lived and cast our family's vote. So obviously that is why you are confused.”
The
leahdyre
looked at Havers in a panic. “Perhaps you will inform your sister she is out of order—”
Marissa cut in. “I'm not his sister anymore, or so he's told me. Though I believe we can all agree that blood lineage is immutable. As is order of birth.” She smiled coolly. “It so happens that I was born eleven years before Havers. Which makes me older than he is. Which means he can sit down, because as the eldest surviving member of my family, the vote from our bloodline is mine to cast. Or not. And in this case, it is most definitely . . .
not.
”
Chaos broke out. Absolute pandemonium.
In the midst of which, Rehv laughed and clapped his palms together. “Hot damn, girl. You are so the shit.”
pp. 421-422
Then the Omega disappeared in a flare of white. As did the Scribe Virgin.
Gone. Both of them. Nothing remaining except a bitterly cold wind that cleared the clouds from the sky like curtains ripped away by a savage hand.
Rhage cleared his throat. “Okay . . . I'm not sleeping for the next week and a half. How about you two?”
p. 427
“That's you,” Wrath said. “You shall be called the Black Dagger warrior
Dhestroyer,
descended of Wrath son of Wrath.”
“But you'll always be Butch to us,” Rhuge cut in. “As well as hard-ass. Smart-ass. Royal pain in the ass. You know, whatever the situation calls for. I think as long as there's an
ass
in there, it'll be accurate.”

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