by J. R. Ward
Chapter Forty-nine
On the way back to the mansion, everyone was full of energy and talking it up in the Escalade: Rhage was popping shit as usual. Wrath was laughing at him. Then V got to throwing back, and before long everyone was taking potshots at each other. As brothers do.
Butch settled himself deep in the bucket seat, aware that this homecoming, like the ceremony beforehand, was of such great joy for the Brotherhood. And even if he couldn't feel that, he was truly glad for them.
They parked in front of the mansion, and when Butch got out, the big house's vestibule doors swung wide and the Brotherhood formed an open circle behind him. The chanting started again, and they processed into the rainbow-colored foyer to great applause: The doggen were there waiting, all twenty of them, and in front of the servants were the three females of the compound dressed in breathtaking gowns. Beth was wearing the bloodred one she'd been married in, Mary was dressed in royal blue, and Bella was in shimmering silver.
Butch wanted Marissa there so badly, he couldn't stand to look at the shellans from the ache in his chest. He was about to make a desperate, pansy break for the Pit when the sea of bodies parted and. . .
Marissa was revealed in a gown of vibrant peach, the color so lovely and vivid he wondered if sunshine hadn't condensed in her very form. And the chanting stopped as she came forward. Confused, unable to understand the why of her appearance, Butch nonetheless reached for her.
Except she went down to her knees in front of him, the gown pooling all around her in great waves of satin.
Her voice was husky with emotion as she ducked her head. "I would offer you, warrior, this pledge of luck when you fight. " She lifted her hands up and in her palms was a thick braid of her hair tied on either end with pale blue ribbon. "It would be my pride to have you keep this on you in battle. It would be my pride to have my. . . hellren serve our race. If you still. . . would have me. "
Completely wiped out by the gesture, Butch eased down to the floor and lifted up her trembling chin. As he thumbed away her tears, he took the braid from her and cradled it to his heart. "Of course I would have you," he whispered. "But what's changed?"
She glanced back at the three females of the house in their majestic dress. Then in an equally quiet voice, she said, "I talked to some friends. Or rather, they talked to me. "
"Marissa. . . " It was all he could say. And as his voice seemed to have dried up, he kissed her.
When they embraced, a great cheer rose up into the vast foyer.
"I'm so sorry I was weak," she whispered in his ear. "Beth and Mary and Bella came to see me. I'm never going to be at peace with the danger you face as a member of the Brotherhood. I'm going to worry every night. But they trust their males to be careful, and I. . . I believe you love me. I believe you wouldn't leave me if you could help it. I. . . I believe you will be careful with yourself and that you will stop if the evil threatens to overwhelm you. If they can handle the fear of loss, so can I. "
He squeezed her even tighter. "I'll be careful, I swear. I swear. "
They stayed on the floor, locked together, for a while. Then Butch lifted his head and looked at Wrath, who had taken Beth into his arms.
"So, brother," Butch said. "You got a knife and some salt? Time to finish a certain mating, you feel me?"
"We've got you covered, my man. "
Fritz came forward with the same pitcher and bowl of Morton's best that had been used at Wrath and Beth's ceremony. And Rhage and Mary's. And Zsadist and Bella's.
As Butch looked into his shellan's, pale blue eyes, he murmured, "Darkness will never take me. . . because I have you. Light of my life, Marissa. That's what you are. "