Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (142 page)

he wasn’t going to have to worry about being discriminated against. The male he wanted was never

going to stand beside him in public, and not because Qhuinn gave a shit about what people thought.

One, the guy wasn’t demonstrative like that. And two, sex did not a couple make.

Otherwise that bastard would be engaged to half of Caldwell, FFS.

Oh, what was he saying.

He was long over that Qhuinn pipe dream thing.

Really.

Totally—

“Shut it,” he muttered to himself as the last of the Council arrived.

Rehv didn’t waste any time. Every second that Wrath was in front of this group, the king was not

only mortally exposed, but also running the chance that his blindness would somehow be ferreted out.

The
symphath
king addressed the Council, his purple gaze scanning the crowd, a sly smile on his face—like maybe he was enjoying the fact that this group of know-it-alls had no clue that a sin-eater was leading them. “I hereby call this meeting of the Council to order. The date and time are…”

As the preamble continued, Blay kept his eyes busy, checking out the backs of the males and

females, where the arms and hands were, whether anyone was twitchy. Naturally, the group had

turned out in black tie and velvet, with jewels on the females, and gold pocket watches on the males.

Then again, it had been a long time since they’d been together formally, and that meant that their

desire to compete with one another for the social upper hand had no doubt suffered from grossly

insufficient airtime.

“…our leader, Wrath, son of Wrath.”

As polite applause sounded, and the crowd straightened in their chairs, Wrath took a single step

forward.

Man, blind or not, he certainly appeared to be a force of nature: Even though he wasn’t dressed in

some kind of ermine-trimmed robe, the king was irrefutably in charge, his massive body and long

dark hair and black wraparounds making him more menace than monarch.

And that was the idea.

Leadership, especially when it came to the
glymera
, was based in part upon perception—and no one could deny that Wrath looked like a living, breathing representation of power and authority.

And that deep, commanding voice didn’t hurt, either.

“I recognize that it has been a long time since I’ve seen you. The raids of nearly two years ago

decimated a lot of your families, and I share in your pain. I, too, lost my bloodline in a
lesser
raid, so I know exactly what you’re going through as you try to get your lives back on track.”

A male down in front shifted in his chair….

But it was only a change in position, not the prelude to a weapon coming out.

Blay eased back on his stance, as did several others. Goddamn, he couldn’t wait to get through

this meeting and have Wrath back home safe.

“Many of you knew my father well, and remember his time in the Old Country. My sire was a

wise and temperate leader, a gentlemale of logical thinking and regal bearing who occupied himself

solely with the betterment of this race and its citizenry.” Wrath paused, those wraparounds making a circle of the room. “I share a few of my father’s characteristics…but not all. In fact, I am not

temperate. I am not forgiving. I am a male of war, not of peace.”

At this, Wrath unsheathed one of his black daggers, the dark blade flashing in the light of the

crystal chandelier overhead. Out in front of the king, the crowd of highfliers reacted with a collective shiver.

“I am very comfortable with conflict, be it of the legal or mortal kind. My father was a mediator,

a bridge maker. I am a grave maker. My father was a persuader. I am a taker. My father was a king

who would willingly sit at your dinner tables and converse with you about minutiae. I am not that

male.”

Yeah, whoa. The Council had no doubt never been addressed like this. But Blay couldn’t disagree

with the approach. Weakness was not respected. Moreover, with this group, law alone probably

wasn’t going to keep Wrath’s throne stable anymore.

Fear, on the other hand?

Much better chance.

“My father and I do have one thing in common, however.” Wrath angled his head down, as if he

were staring at the black blade. “My father caused the deaths of eight of your relations.”

There was a collective gasp. But Wrath didn’t let that slow him up.

“Over the course of my father’s reign, there were eight attempts on his life, and no matter how

long it took, whether it was days, weeks, or even months, he made it his business to find out who was behind each…and he hunted the individuals down personally, and killed them. You may not have

heard the true stories, but you will know of the deaths—the perpetrators were beheaded with the

tongues removed. Surely, as you cast your mind back, you can recall members of your bloodlines who

were interred that way?”

Fidgeting. Lot of fidgeting. Which suggested memories had been jogged.

“You will further recall that those deaths were attributed to the Lessening Society. I say unto you now, I know the names, and I know where the graves are, because my father made sure I memorized

them. It was the first lesson in kingship he ever taught me. My citizenry is to be honored, protected, and served well. Traitors, on the other hand, are a disease to any lawful society and need to be

eradicated.” Wrath smiled in a purely evil way. “Say what you will about me, I studied well at the

foot of my father. And let us be clear—my father, not the Brotherhood, was the one who attended

those deaths. I know because he beheaded four of them in front of me. That was how important the

lesson was.”

Several of the females moved closer to whatever male happened to be seated beside them.

Wrath continued. “I will not hesitate to follow my father’s lead in this. I recognize that you all

have suffered. I respect your trials and I want to lead you. I will not, however, hesitate to treat
any
insurgency against me and mine as the act of a traitor.”

The king lowered his chin, and appeared to glare out from behind the wraparounds, to the point

that even Blay felt a frisson of adrenaline.

“And if you think what my father did was violent, you haven’t seen a goddamn thing yet. I will

make those deaths look merciful. I swear on my lineage.”

FIFTY-TWO

On some level, Assail could not believe he was walking into a restaurant. For one, he didn’t

frequent human haunts as a rule, and two, he had no interest in eating in the dive: The air

smelled like fried food and beer, and from what he saw on the trays of the waitresses, he was

uncertain whether the entrées were graded safe for non-animal consumption.

Oh, look. Across the way, there was a stage that had a wall of chicken wire in front of it.

Classy.

“Well, hello, there,” someone purred at him.

Assail cocked an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. The human woman was dressed in a

tight shirt and a pair of blue jeans that had clearly been stitched onto her legs. Hair was blond and stick straight. Makeup was heavy, with the lipstick shiny enough to qualify as an exterior oil paint.

He’d rather spoon his own eyes out then engage in any fashion with the likes of her.

He willed her to forget she’d seen him and turned back around. There was a heavy crowd, with

more people than there were tables and chairs, so he had good cover as he went over to a corner and scanned….

And there she was.

His little burglar.

Cursing under his breath, he dimly recognized the waste of time this all was—especially given

that the cousins were, at this very moment, making a deal with that
lesser
again. Unfortunately, however, as soon as he’d gotten an alert that that black Audi of hers had gone on the move, he’d been compelled to find the thing and follow it.

He had not been prepared for this.

Whatever was she doing here? And why was she dressed like that?

As she found one of the few empty tables and sat down alone, he found himself not approving of

the way her hair was down around her shoulders, the dark weight curling about her face. Or the

formfitting shirt that was revealed as she took off her coat. Or—she had makeup on, too, for godsakes.

And not like that woman who had just oiled her way up to him. His burglar had kept things light, in a way that magnified her features….

She was beautiful.

Too beautiful.

All the men in the restaurant were looking her over. And that made him want to kill each and

every one of them by ripping their throats out with his teeth—

As if they were in agreement with that plan, his fangs tingled and began to descend into his mouth, his body tensing.

But not yet, he told himself. He needed to find out why she was here. After having followed her to

Benloise’s mansion, he had expected any number of destinations…although never this. What was she

doing—

Her head turned, and for a moment, he thought she had somehow sensed him, even though she was

not a vampire.

But then a very tall, very well-built human man approached her table.

His burglar looked up at the guy. Smiled at the guy. Got to her feet and wrapped her arms around

the guy’s big shoulders.

Assail’s hand went into his coat and found his gun.

Indeed, he saw himself going over and putting a bullet between the man’s eyes.

“Hey, you ever been here before?”

Assail’s head cranked around. A rather large human male had approached him and was staring at

him with a certain aggression.

“I asked you a question.”

There were two responses, Assail decided. He could verbally reply, thus entering into some kind

of dialogue that would consume his attention—arguably not a bad idea, given that his hand remained

locked on his gun, and his impulses had not shifted from those of a homicidal inclination.

“I’m talking to you.”

Or he could…

Assail bared his descended fangs and growled deep in his throat, redirecting his wrath away from

the scene of his burglar with that human fool for whom she had dressed and made herself up.

The guy with the questions threw up his hands and took a step back. “Hey, it’s cool, whatever. My

bad. Whatever.”

The man disappeared into the crowd, proving that in certain circumstances, rats without tails

could dematerialize as well.

Assail’s eyes returned to that table. The “gentleman” who had taken a seat across from his burglar

was leaning in, his eyes locked on her face even while she examined the menu and glanced around.

Something was going to have to be done about this.

Sola closed the menu and laughed. “I never said that.”

“You did.” Mark Sanchez smiled. “You told me I had nice eyes.”

Mark was exactly what she needed on a night like tonight. He was really easy to look at, super

charming, and as long as he didn’t make her drop and give him ten thousand, she had nothing to worry about: As a personal trainer? He was a demon. She should know.

“So is this a way to butter me up?” He eased back as the waitress brought them both beers. “Try

to get me to go light on you in the gym?”

“I know better than that.” Sola took a draw from the thick, ice-cold rim of her mug. “No quarter

given. That’s your policy.”

“Well, to be fair, you’ve never asked for any special treatment.” There was a pause. “Not that in

your case, I wouldn’t be willing to cut you some slack…in some areas.”

Sola ducked the eye contact that was flashing her way. “So you don’t date clients, huh.”

“No. Not usually.”

“Conflict of interest.”

“It could get messy—but in certain cases, it’s worth the risk.”

Sola glanced around the pub. Lot of people. Lot of talk. Air that was hot and thick.

She frowned and stiffened. In the far corner, something…someone…

“You okay?”

She shook herself free of the paranoia. “Yes, sorry—oh, yes, we’d like to order,” she said as the

waitress returned. “I’ll have a cheeseburger. Assuming my personal trainer doesn’t throw an

embolism from disapproval.”

Mark laughed. “Make that two. But hold the fries. On both plates.”

As the waitress took off, Sola tried not to look in the direction of that dark, back corner. “So…”

“I didn’t think you’d ever take me up on this. I asked you out how long ago?”

As Mark smiled, she noticed that he had fantastic teeth, straight and really white. “It’s been a

while, I guess. I’ve been busy.”

“So what do you do for a living?”

“This and that.”

“In what field?”

Ordinarily, she got pissed quick when people became nosy. But his affect was calm and easy, so