With a gentle smile, she took his palm and put it to her face, rubbing it against her cheek. “I love you, I love you…”

“Okay?” he croaked out. “You?”

“Now that you’re home safe, yes. A thousand yeses.”

V cracked his lids and stared up at her with lolling eyes. Even though she rarely touched the Brother—because face it, Vishous was not a warm-and-fuzzy kind of guy—she reached out and brushed his cheek.

In a rare moment of tenderness, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm.

And then, a short time later, it was time to get her mate in the shower. As V was wasted on the sofa, Marissa helped Butch down the hall and into their room. Or almost their room. He insisted on stopping and stripping out in the hall so he could put his filthy clothes immediately into the laundry chute that dumped into the tunnel down below.

Their private bath was simple and small and cozy, and as she always did in these situations, she made Butch sit on the toilet while she got the shower to the right temperature. When all was ready, she helped him up, pushed him under the spray and propped him against the corner.

Taking his robe from her body, she stepped in with him.

He’d been hard before she did the reveal. And the instant he saw her body, his erection got even thicker.

There would be time to share their stories after this. Now? It was about finding that wavelength between them, plugging into each other, communicating without words.

Taking the soap and a washcloth, she started with his face, wiping over those features she loved so much before moving to his throat, the pads of his pecs, the ridges of his abdominals. She washed every part of him, even his arousal, which she stroked with the washcloth.

Butch arched under her touch. He was too weak to do much else, his weight sliding down until he was sitting on the built-in marble bench. With his head lazing around, he watched her work him.

And then she put the cloth aside.

Getting on her knees, she felt the warm water washing down her back as she moved in between his thighs.

He was magnificent, collapsed back into the corner, big arms lax, warrior’s body exhausted.

Yet his eyes were hot.

Wrapping her hands around his cock, she opened her mouth and went down on him, swallowing as much as she could of his length, sucking on him, working him.

In response, Butch groaned and curled his hips.

She took her sweet time, plying him, going faster and then slowing down, squeezing his balls.

And then she looked up.

He was still watching her, his fangs descended, his mouth open and panting. From time to time, he seemed to try to move. The best he could manage was a flopping of his hands, though.

“Marissa…” he said hoarsely.

“Yes?”

While she waited for him to answer, she traced her mouth with his head. Then she ran her tongue in a circle around him.

“Finish me,” he groaned. “Oh, God … finish me…”

The smile she gave him came from deep inside.

Then, with anticipation, she went back to work.

And did her job very, very well.

Chapter Forty-four

As night fell the following evening, Paradise was pacing around her bedroom in her bathrobe.

Craeg hadn’t called. Not at seven in the morning when he usually did. Not at two in the afternoon when he maybe couldn’t sleep. And not at six when he was probably up and about to eat with Axe in the cafeteria.

Something had obviously changed.

And she hoped like hell it wasn’t the one-and-done thing. Some males wanted only what they hadn’t had yet, and although she would be shocked to discover Craeg was that much of a douche, she couldn’t think what else might explain him not calling.

Except … they’d been so good together. Really good. And he’d been so good to her.

As for that horrific scene at the girl’s apartment? Although what had happened to Peyton’s cousin was tragic, she didn’t think Craeg would be so affected as to suffer some kind of mental or emotional collapse—

As her phone finally fucking rang, she raced across her room.

Only to curse when she saw it was just Peyton.

When she answered, she tried to keep her voice level. “Hey. How you doing?”

After the two of them had done that sad, sad duty with the female’s parents, they’d gone their separate ways for the day, but they hadn’t been out of touch. He’d texted her a number of incoherent things over the hours, which she took to mean that he’d put that bottle of vodka to good use.

“So we don’t have class tonight.”

“What?”

“It’s canceled for some reason so Anslam and I are going to Sal’s Restaurant. I’m gonna invite everyone else, too.”

As she struggled with the update, a crushing disappointment left her dizzy. She’d been counting on seeing Craeg and—

Peyton didn’t miss a beat, telling her to meet everyone there in an hour. Then he hung up and left her to hold her phone and stare at the dark screen.

Would Craeg even join them? she wondered.

Okay, this was bullshit. She was done waiting around like some stupid chick.

Taking a deep breath, she dialed a number from memory, one that she had learned about three nights into working at the audience house. When a doggen answered, she smiled professionally—as if the male could see her face, as if she wasn’t doing this for purely personal reasons.

“Hi, there,” she said. “This is Abalone’s daughter. I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you be so kind as to transfer me down to the training center’s clinic?”

“Oh, but of course, mistress!” came the cheerful reply. “Was there someone in particular you should wish to address?”

“Actually…” Maybe this would be easier than she’d thought. “I’m trying to reach the first of the five bedroom suites down there?”

“My pleasure, please hold while I look up the extension.” There was a beep … beep … beep. “Here it is. If you’d like to direct-dial in the future, may I give you the number?”

“Please.” Grabbing a pen, she scribbled it on the side of the Kleenex box next to her. “Thank you.”

“Or you may use this number always. We’re grateful to serve. Please hold.”

“Thank you again.”

As the beep … beep … beep came back over the line, her palms bloomed with a flush of heat and sweat, and she had to sit down, because her legs started to shake.

Then there was ringing.

“Hello?” Craeg said.

She swallowed hard—and then got frustrated with herself. “I was hoping you’d call.”

Long silence. “Hey.”

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this. What the hell is wrong?”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?”

“What?” she said sharply.

“You know, what with your cousin having been killed. Your family must be upset, too.”

“I’m more worried about you at the moment?” Naturally, she was upset about—

Paradise’s anger derailed as the words he’d spoken truly sank in. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I followed you home last night,” he said. “Which was maybe a shitty thing to do—but considering you’ve lied to me about who you are and where you came from, it’s a violation of privacy that was warranted. Just curious—were you ever going to tell me?”

She put her head in her hand. “Craeg…”

“I didn’t call you because I don’t actually know who I’m talking to, do I. Well, the daughter of the First Adviser to the King—Peyton was kind enough to clue me in on that one.”

“Listen, I…”

“You what? What were you going to say, Paradise?” His voice became even more strident. “And P.S., I am legitimately sorry about what happened to that female. As you are very aware, I’ve lost family, too. You remember how that went, don’t you?”

Abruptly, the horrific story of his father being locked out of safety while the aristocrats hid from the lessers came back with vicious clarify.