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As Wrath shut the door, Marissa said in a flat voice, “We should be doing this at Havers’s clinic.”

V shook his head. “No offense, but I wouldn’t take Butch to your brother for a paper cut. And the fewer people who know about this, the better.” He went over to the gurney and checked that the brake was engaged. “Besides, I’m a damn good medic. Butch, ditch the clothes and let’s do this.”

Butch stripped to his boxers, his skin goose-bumping all over. “Can we do something about the temperature in this meat locker?”

“Yup.” V walked over to the wall. “We want it warm in here for the first part. Then I’m going to throw the air-conditioning on hard-core and you’ll love me for it.”

Butch went to the gurney and popped his body up on the thing. As a hiss and a rush of toasty air came from overhead, he held his arms out for Marissa. After closing her eyes briefly, she came to him, and he took refuge in her body heat, hugging her hard. Her tears were slow and silent, and when he tried to talk to her, she just shook her head.

“Would you choose to be mated this day?”

Everyone in the room jerked around.

A diminutive figure in black robes had appeared in the corner out of nowhere. The Scribe Virgin.

Butch’s heart jackhammered. He’d seen her only once before, at Wrath and Beth’s mating ceremony, and she was now as she had been then: a presence to respect and fear, power incarnate, a force of nature.

Then he realized what she’d asked. “I would, yes…. Marissa?”

Marissa’s hands went down as if she were about to pick up the skirting of a gown she wasn’t wearing. Then she dropped her arms awkwardly, but still curtsied low and with grace. As she held the pose, she said, “If it would not offend, we would be honored beyond measure to be joined by Your Holiness.”

The Scribe Virgin came forward, her deep chuckle filling the room. As she laid her glowing hand on Marissa’s bowed head, she said, “Such manners, child. Your line has always had such perfect manners. Now come to your height and lift thine eyes unto me.” Marissa came out of the curtsy and looked up. As she did, Butch could have sworn the Scribe Virgin sighed a little. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. You are so exquisitely formed.”

Then the Scribe Virgin looked at Butch. Though there was an opaque black veil over her face, the impact of her stare made his skin tingle all over in warning. Like he was standing in the path of an impending lightning strike.

“What is your father’s name, human?”

“Eddie. Edward. O’Neal. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not bring him into this, okay?”

Everyone in the room stiffened and V muttered, “Take it easy with the inquiry, cop. Really easy.”

“And why is that, human?” the Scribe Virgin asked. The word human was pronounced like the phrase piece of shit.

Butch shrugged. “He’s nothing to me.”

“Are humans always so dismissive of their lines?”

“My father and I have nothing to do with each other, that’s all.”

“Therefore blood ties mean little to you, yes?”

No, Butch thought, glancing over at Wrath. Blood ties were everything.

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