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When there was only silence, Shuli tennis-matched the two, bathing in all the father/son bonding. Not. But then the focus was on him again, and he got himself good and braced.
“And you, Shuli?”
“Good, yup.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, I can clean out my locker down here and get my shit—”
“Why would you do that?”
“I—ah.” He glanced at all the serious faces and wondered why he had to say it out loud: Clearly, his suspension had just become permanent, because he’d violated his time-out in the field. “Well, I’m figuring you all didn’t come here just to see if I was up on my feet.”
“You’re right about that.” Wrath’s voice lowered as he switched into the Old Language.“You have honored your bloodline by protecting mine own, your act of courage deeming you worthy of reward and the restitution of your position within our fighting ranks.”
Shuli looked down at L.W. Who looked back.
Blink. Blink. Fucking blink.
As Homer started running around in circles—kind of like Shuli’s brain—the King continued,“Further, in recognition of your bravery, and your willingness to sacrifice yourself upon the field of combat for the benefit of mine own blooded son, I hereby confer unto you the role ofahstrux nohtrum, in favor of him—”
“Wait, what?” L.W. burst up from his chair—or tried to. He wobbled and grabbed his side. “Fuck—”
Before Shuli could think better of it, he lunged across and caught the male.
“Will you get off me—”
“Jesus Christ, I’m just trying to keep you from face-planting—”
“I don’t need the help—”
“Well, I didn’t want to give it to you anyway—”
“Then what thefuckare you doing holding my arm!”
The collective laughter that broke out reminded Shuli of what Rhage had sounded like the night before in the cop car. Only this time, the ripple was in stereo, every one of the Brothers chiming in with a yuck-yuck’ing.
“The honor of this position is conferred upon you by mine hand, and shall be marked in the appropriate manner.”Abruptly, Wrath switched back to English. “You saved my son last night. I am personally in your debt.”
L.W. shook his head. “You got it wrong. I savedhim.”
Wrath looked over at his son. “Yeah, you did. And if his sire were still alive, he’d feel the way I do right now. Grateful.”
“So send Shuli a fucking fruit basket. You donotneed to saddle me with him for the rest of my life.”
“It’s done. This is how I want it.”
The expression on the younger Wrath’s face was a clear warning to anybody who could see it. But Shuli had a feeling that even if the King’s eyes had been working, he wouldn’t have given a shit.
Immovable object, meet unstoppable force.
Well, wasn’t Last Meal going to be justgreatat their house, Shuli thought.
Except then the implications hit him.
With dawning horror, he looked over at the male next to him. Oh… shit. Was he going to have to live with L.W.?
And get a tattoo on hisface?
Wrath really didn’t care that his son had a hair across his ass.
When his brothers had reported what Shuli had done, he’d asked them to repeat the name of the fighter who had run into all thoselessersto make sure L.W. got out alive. And then he’d needed a second try at the whole story.
