"You telling me to pick out a casket?"

"Hope not. But it's not my call. Depends a lot on you." There was a pause. "You don't have much to go back to, do you?"

Butch looked up at the ceiling.

When the brothers had let him check his messages this morning, there'd been only one. It had been the captain, telling him to come in for the results of Internal's investigation.

Yeah, like that was an appointment he needed to keep. He knew damn well what the outcome would be. He was going to be fired and served up as a sacrificial lamb to combat the image of police brutality. Or he was going to be put out to pasture at a desk job.

As for his family? Ma and Pop, bless them, were still in their row house in Southie, surrounded by the surviving sons and daughters they loved so much. Though still mourning Janie, they were happy in their retirement years. And Butch's brothers and sisters were so busy having babies, raising babies, and thinking about having more babies, that they were totally tied up with their family obligations. In the O'Neal clan, Butch was just a footnote. The Dark One Who Had Failed to Procreate.

Friends? Jose was the only one he could even remotely consider a friend. Abby wasn't even that. She was just a screw every now and again.

And after meeting Marissa last night, he'd lost his interest in casual sex.

He glanced over at the vampire. "Naw, I don't have anything."

"I know what that feels like." Vishous rustled around as if he were trying to get comfortable. When he settled on his back, he threw one heavy arm over his eyes.

Butch frowned as he caught sight of the vampire's left hand. It was covered with tattoos, dense, intricate designs that ran down the back of it, onto the palm, and around each finger. It must have hurt like a bitch to have done.

"V?"

"Yeah?"

"What's doing with the tats?"

"I didn't pester you about your curse, cop." Vishous put the arm away. "If I'm not up by eight, wake me, true?"

"Yeah. True." Butch closed his eyes.

In the chamber downstairs, Beth turned off the shower, reached for a towel, and clonked her new engagement ring on the marble counter.

"Oh, not good. Really not good…" She cradled her hand, thinking she was lucky Wrath was upstairs checking on preparations for the ceremony. Although maybe that cracking sound had carried to the first floor.

She braced herself before she looked down, convinced she'd either knocked the ruby loose or taken a hunk out of the stone. But it was fine.

Not that she was in a big hurry to bash it around again. Never one for rings, she was going to have to get used to wearing the thing.

Would that all of life's little adjustments be so hard, she thought wryly. Fiance slides a priceless hunk of geology on your finger. What a bummer.

She had to smile as she dried off. Wrath had been so proud to put that ring on her. He'd told her it was a gift from someone whom she'd meet tonight.

At her wedding.

She paused with the towel. God, that word. Wedding.

Who'd have ever thought she'd-

Someone knocked on the chamber door.

"Hello, Beth? Are you in there?" The unfamiliar female voice was muffled.

Beth drew on Wrath's robe and went over, but didn't open the door. "Yes?"

It's Wellsie. I'm Tohr's shellan. I thought you might like someone to help you get through tonight, and I've brought a gown for you, in case you don't have one already. Well, I'm also just your average nosy female, so I wanted to meet you."

Beth cracked the door.

Whoa.

There was nothing average about Wellsie. She had flame red hair, a face like a Greco-Roman goddess, and an aura of total self-possession. Her bright blue gown set off her coloring like an autumn sky over changing leaves.

"Ah, hi," Beth said.

"Hi, yourself." Wellsie's sherry-colored eyes were shrewd without being cold. Especially as she started to smile. "Aren't you gorgeous. No wonder Wrath fell as hard as he did."

"Would you like to come in?"

Wellsie marched into the room, carrying a long flat box and a big bag. She gave off an air of being in charge, but somehow, she didn't seem pushy.

"Tohr almost didn't tell me what was going on. He and Wrath are in a thing."

"Thing?"

Wellsie rolled her eyes, shut the door from across the room, and put the box down on the coffee table.

"Males like them, they get all riled up and take a hunk out of each other every once in a while. It's inevitable. Tohr won't tell me what it's all about, but I can guess. Honor, prowess on the field, or us, their females." Wellsie flipped open the box, revealing folds of red satin. "They're good-hearted, our boys. But they can blow their stacks and say something stupid every now and again."

She turned and smiled. "Enough of them. Are you ready for this?"

Beth was normally reticent around strangers. But this straight-talking woman with the no-nonsense eyes felt like someone worth taking a gamble on.

"Maybe not." Beth laughed. "I mean, I haven't known Wrath for long, but he feels like he's mine. I'm going with my gut on this. Not my head."

"I was the same way with Tohr." Wellsie's face softened. "Took one look at him and I knew I was done for."

Her hand absently went to her stomach.

She's pregnant, Beth thought. "When are you due?"

Wellsie flushed, but it seemed to be out of anxiety more than happiness.

"Long time. A year. If I can hold it." She bent down and took out the gown. "So would you like to try this on? We're almost the same size."

The dress was an antique, with black beading over lace on the bodice and a tremendous waterfall of a skirt. The red satin positively smoldered, catching the light from the candles and holding the glow deep within its folds.

"That's… spectacular." Beth reached out and stroked the skirting.

"My mother had it made for me. I was mated in it almost two hundred years ago. We can skip the corset if you want, but I brought the petticoats. They're such fun. And listen, if you don't like it or have something else you were planning to wear, I will absolutely not take offense."

"Are you crazy? Like I'm going to turn that down so I can get married in my shorts?"

Beth gathered up the dress and nearly ran to the bathroom. Stepping into the gown was like stepping back in time, and when she came back out into the chamber, she couldn't stop herself from fluffing the skirt. It was a little tight in the bodice, but she didn't care if she never took a full breath.

"You look great," Wellsie said.

"Yeah, because this is the most beautiful thing I've ever had on. Can you do the last buttons up the back?"

Wellsie's fingers were cool and quick. When she was finished, she tilted her head to one side, clasping her hands together. "You do it justice. The whole red-and-black combo really works with your hair. Wrath's going to pass out when he sees you."

"Are you sure you want to lend it to me?" What if she spilled on the thing?

"Clothes are meant to be worn. And that gown hasn't been on a body since 1814." Wellsie checked her diamond watch. "I'm going to go upstairs and see how the prep's coming. Fritz is probably going to need help. The brothers sure know how to eat, but their kitchen skills are deplorable. You'd think they'd be better with knives, considering what they do for a living."

Beth turned around. "Give me a hand undoing these buttons and I'll go with you."