He had no recollection of the café where Tull and the others had found him and Shiloh, but he’d been read into the situation as soon as he’d woken at the hospital.
“Do we know why the two of them were meeting?” All he had was a message from Shiloh’s multi-slate inviting the Butcher out for coffee.
“No,” Tull said, “but I bet you Bishop knows.”
“And we still haven’t located him?”
“He’s in the wind, so to speak.”
Sarang watched Shiloh shift on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “He won’t abandon the prince.”
“On that we agree. If Bishop was alpha, he’d give you a run for your money.”
“What about Dio?”
“What about him?” Tull made a face. “Hell no. Shiloh’s never once looked at him the way he looks at you. You have nothing to worry about there.”
Sarang pulled his gaze off the screen. “I meant, will he come knocking if he can’t get in touch with the prince?”
Tull thought it over. “You’ve got his multi-slate, right? Can’t hurt to shoot him a response now and again to keep him in the dark.”
Shiloh had been brought in during the early morning hours when the club was the quietest and most of them were sleeping. Only the guards, Sloane, and Tull knew he was here, and they’d been ordered to keep it that way.
Surprisingly, Sloane had been relatively easy to convince. She’d merely nodded, said, sure thing, and shut her door in Sarang’s face.
“Kian’s been informed of Rhovan’s death, and we’re looking into who those guys were who went after him and Shiloh. Since they shot Rho in the head right away, I think it’s safe to assume they were targeting the prince, and not there to take his life.”
Sarang had guessed as much as well. They’d been talking when he’d arrived, but in his feral state, he hadn’t been able to process their words. It was something he’d have to ask Shiloh about, but he’d wanted their first conversation to be solely about the two of them and his expectations moving forward.
His time as the prince’s captive had taught him a valuable lesson.
Self-righteousness wouldn’t warm his bed.
He’d resisted his feelings for the omega out of a sense of duty toward Kian and the rest of the Eumia. Had considered himself too far beneath Shiloh to be considered a good match, no matter how attracted they were to each other.
Had excused that attraction away by blaming the life-bond.
But when he’d been rutting a pillow, or fucking couch cushions, he’d come to the realization that it really didn’t fucking matter why he felt the way he felt.
All that mattered was that he did.
He wanted Shiloh.
And he’d have him.
But there were a few things they needed to work through first, like his omega’s lack of faith and his deep-rooted need to hide who he truly was. Shiloh didn’t think himself capable of warmth or love, but that wasn’t true.
Sarang had experienced it first hand, had been gifted it directly from the omega. It was clear, however, that Shiloh lumped all of those acts together.
He believed he’d been pretending, for four years straight, during all of their interactions.
His alpha would show him that wasn’t the case. Sarang would lead him to the conclusion that he was just as capable of forming a real connection with someone as Kian was. The two of them were incredibly similar, now that Sarang had been made to see it.
“Rhovan’s brother is already on a ship headed this way,” Tull said then, bringing him back to the topic at hand. “I’ll send someone to pick him up. He’ll want to check on the body and then join the hunt immediately.”
“Let him.” If it’d been Sarang’s sibling on that table in the morgue, he’d burn the whole world down searching for those responsible.
“Before you ask, we still haven’t found whoever is behind roping in our people to deal elixir either,” Tull said. “But we’re getting close. I have several guys working on it. They’ll get to the truth.”
