Chapter Thirteen
As Beth walked into their bedroom, she ditched the robe and the boxers and went to her bureau.
With sloppy hands, she threw on a bra under her shirt and some underwear, and then it was a one-tug on some faded jeans.
On a second thought, she traded up for a turtleneck on top—whatever her hand landed on. No sweater.
Adrenaline was keeping her warm.
“Are you sure about this?”
Spinning around, she glanced at Wrath. “I’ll get your jacket. We can dematerialize out together. Let’s leave George, though.”
“Beth—”
“I don’t know, okay?” She threw her hands up. “I just…there are two young males potentially in the hands of lessers. If that was L.W.? What would we be doing right now. How would we be feeling. And yes, I want to come. We’ve got to do right by those families, even if they’re aristocrats.”
He inclined his head. “All right, I’ll go organize coverage with the brothers. I don’t need to be guarded anymore, but you do.”
“If you’re not King, I’m not Queen.”
“You’re everything to me. And if I have to call in some favors to make sure you’re safe, I will.”
Wrath turned to go. Except then he came back at her and took her face in his hands. “You’re a female of worth, you know that?”
When she thought about her messy emotional crap, she could only shake her head. “I’m not feeling like that right now.”
“Well, it’s still true.” He dropped a kiss to her mouth. “Give me a couple of minutes and we’ll head out.”
After he left, she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair back.
She was mostly out the door when she stopped and pivoted on one foot.
Heading around the bed, she bent down to the floor to pick up Wrath’s leather jacket.
The weight was such that she needed both hands to pick it up, and she brought the folds to her nose.
Breathing in deep, the scent of her mate was everything to her, the dark spices of his skin, the shampoo, the fabric softener Fritz had used on the muscle shirt—
With a frown, she pulled the sleeve up. The left sleeve.
Oh…God. The marks were still there. Four little crescent moons, in a line. She had been the one to make them, with her clipped nails.
“Beth? You ready?”
She shook herself back to attention and turned back to the doorway. “Hi. Yes. I mean…I have your jacket.”
“Thanks. I’ll take it. There are—things—in the pockets.”
“I can tell. It’s so heavy—no, wait. I’ll come to you.”
Remembering the sound from earlier in the night, she hustled over to him. In a rough voice, she said, “You mind if I put this on you?”
One brow lifted. “Sure.”
He stretched both arms down, and she started with his dagger hand, feeding it into the right sleeve.
Then she reached behind his massive torso and came out the far side, piloting his other arm into its place.
Gripping the lapels, she rose up onto her tiptoes and settled the jacket properly onto his shoulders and chest.
With loving hands, she pulled out his long, black hair, that fell straight from his widow’s peak.
God, Wrath looked exactly like he had when they’d first met all those years ago. When he’d come out of the darkness in the little courtyard behind her apartment. When Boo had purred and scratched at the slider, and she had gone over to get her first look at him.
“Hold me?” she asked roughly. “Just for a moment.”
Those big arms wrapped around her, and she drew in a breath that inflated her soul. Blinking quick, she hugged him back, feeling the warmth of his body, the strength of it, the life inside of him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied hoarsely, but honestly. Or at least…she was heading in a much better direction.
It was hard to step back. Except then she thought of the missing males. And the dead ones.
“Let’s go,” she said.
By some miracle, Tohr made it back to his bedroom suite’s loo before he threw up.
He hadn’t had much for First Meal, so it wasn’t a prolonged event, and thank God Autumn had gone to Xhex’s residence.
He didn’t want to worry her any more than he already had.
Besides, the GI evac made him feel better.
For like, a moment.
As soon as he stretched back out on their firm mattress, he closed his eyes because that was what you did when you were negotiating with various vital functions. Especially anything involving your gag reflex.
Swallow. Exhale. Swallow. Inhale—
Someone was coming down the hall on a slow shuffle, and as he caught the scent, it was not a surprise. He was also glad the brother had the energy to come over. What was not so hot? The reason.
Fucking lessers.
“V…” he murmured.
“We got a problem.”
“Yeah, I know that.” He lifted his lids and told himself to get with the program. “And I can go out and help look, too. I just need a couple of minutes to catch my breath—”
“It’s not about those missing males. Or those that were killed.”
Tohr frowned. Okay, he did not like that tone of voice. At all. “Did you have another one of your visions.”
Not a question. And Lassiter save them from what the brother saw: It was only ever the deaths of people, and if V was bringing it up with both of them feeling so badly?
“So, you didn’t talk to Rhage,” V tossed back.
Tohr searched the brother’s battered face.
Even though the bruising and swelling was continuing to bloom, the nose bra he’d been sporting was gone.
And there was a hand-rolled in that gloved hand, though unlit out of respect.
Another show that V was making the turn in his recovery—or at least trying to.
What sucked? That rank expression.
Damn it, even though his stomach was still rolling, he needed to sit up for whatever this was. “Tell me.”
“Wrath says he’s out of here.” V motioned all around.
“The Wheel?” Why the hell would that matter so much. “Well, if he wants to move back to the mansion, we can—”
“The throne.”
Annnnnnnnnnd cue the sound of brakes locking on hot pavement.
“I’m sorry—what?” Tohr waved a dismissive hand. “No way. Who told you this? Was it Wrath himself or—”
“Rhage first person heard the announcement back at the garage. You and I were out of it. Wrath just said the shit out loud and took off—and evidently, I need to get him a new phone, but who the fuck cares about that.”
Tohr glanced around his mated bedroom. The nineteenth-century landscapes of the Adirondack mountains and lake vistas usually were calming.
They didn’t do shit for him, now. Then again, he could have taken two Xanax, put a heating pad on his chest and binge-watched Spenser for Hire, and he still would have felt like he had a cattle prod up his ass.
“You’re the only one who can talk to him, true,” V concluded.
What the fuck was going on.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if he’s going to want to hear anything about this from any of us.” He rubbed his aching head. “Wait, lemme get this straight. Wrath just looked around at everybody there and dropped this bomb? While you and I were being treated?”
“They said he seemed to be talking mostly to himself. Then he picked up the dog and ghosted out.”
“Jesus, does he expect L.W. to do the job? That male is more of a mess than Wrath was at his age.”
“Which is why you have to talk to him. Real talk, we all knew he was off tonight, right from the start. Not dematerializing? Come on, when has that been a problem for him?” V switched his cigarette back and forth like he was jonesing for a draw on it.
“It has to have something to do with the Whestmorel visit. If his job’s getting in the way of her? That’ll do it. He’ll walk over that.”
“Has to be about the visit to that aristocrat’s house,” Tohr agreed.
“I’d kill that fucker again if he weren’t dead.”
“Get in line.” Tohr glanced at his bedside table and debated whether the room temperature ginger ale in his glass was a good thing or not for his stomach.
“Assuming it is about Beth, though, they’ll work things out, they always do—hell, she was the one who volunteered him back there to go talk to those parents.
And when the two of them are on track again, he’ll come to his senses. ”
“You want to tell all the civilians waiting to see the great Blind King that they need to hold on while he works on his fucking relationship? Sure, I’ll draft that email and we’ll send it to all registered civilians, true? I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Tohr frowned. “But why did Beth suggest he go out to Shuli’s?”
“She’s always had a soft spot for families fucked by tragedies. And this is a big one.”
V was right. The Queen knew exactly what losing somebody to the Lessening Society was like. So did Tohr. On that note, he rubbed a lancing pain in the center of his chest, one that had never dimmed, even after all these years. Even after Autumn had come into his life.
“Where’s the Brotherhood?” he asked.
“Out in your living room, trying to convince your shellan that they don’t need green tea and a scone. Strike that, Rhage is probably eating all the scones—as well as everything else in your refrigerator.”
Tohr frowned. “I thought she was at Xhex’s.”
“Xhex came with her.”
“And everybody sent you in here,” he said with exhaustion. “With the good news.”
“I volunteered.” V shrugged. “Be real. Who else is going to talk to him, Tohr. You’re the levelheaded one, the voice of reason. And we’re not going to make it as a species without Wrath, especially not now. Whatever shit is going on in his head, you’ve got to help him sort it out.”
As Vishous stared across the room with those diamond eyes of his, he clearly looked as bad as Tohr felt and wasn’t that a bitch for them both.
“This fucking night.” Tohr swung his legs off the bed and had to give it a second to see if his stomach held tight. “And FYI, I don’t think he’s going to listen to anybody. Not if it has to do with his shellan.”