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His eyes shot to the bed. The satin sheets were rumpled, and the four chains the symphath king had given him to subdue her were lying slack from their corners.
Lash wheeled on his men. Slayers didn't die unless you got them in the chest with some stainless steel, so both were incapacitated, but still alive.
"What the f**k happened?"
Two mouths worked, but he couldn't understand a thing-the bastards had no air supply to their voice boxes, thanks to the shit escaping out of all the holes they'd made in themselves.
Weak-minded fools-
Oh, hell no. Oh, no, she didn't.
Lash went over to the messy sheets and found the collar of his old dead rottweiler. He'd put the thing on his princess's neck to mark her as his, keeping it on her even when he took her vein during sex.
She'd slit it up the front instead of unbuckling the thing. She'd ruined it.
Lash tossed the collar on the bed, rebuttoned his shirt, and shoved the silk tails into his slacks. Over at the antique Sheraton bureau he'd bought three days ago, he took out another gun and a long knife to add to what he'd worn to meet Benloise.
There was only one place she would go.
And he was going up there and bringing his bitch back.
With George guiding the way, Wrath left his study at ten p.m. and hit the stairs with a confidence that surprised him. The thing was, he was starting to trust the dog and anticipate the signals that George transmitted through the harness handle: Each time they got to the head of the stairs, George would stop and allow Wrath to find the first step. And as they came to the bottom, the dog would pause again so that Wrath was aware they'd reached the foyer. And then there would be a wait until Wrath announced what direction they would go in.
It was...a very good system, actually.
As he and George descended, the Brothers gathered down below, checking their weapons and talking. In the midst of the group, V was smoking his Turkish tobacco and Butch was saying some Hail Marys under his breath and Rhage was unwrapping a Tootsie Pop. The two females were with them, and he recognized them by their scents. The nurse was nervous, but not hysterical, and Xhex was itching for a fight.
When Wrath stepped off onto the mosaic floor, he gripped the handle in his palm hard, the muscles in his forearm cranking tight. Shit, he and George were staying behind. And that just sucked.
Ironic, wasn't it. Not so long ago, he'd been upset about leaving Tohr home like a dog. What a role reversal. The Brother was the one going out into the night...and he was the guy staying behind.
A sharp whistle from Tohr shut everyone up. "V and Butch, I want you with Xhex and Z on team one. Rhage, Phury, and I are on team two and will be backing up you four with the boys. According to the text I just got from Qhuinn, he and Blay and John have arrived up north and are in position about two miles from the entry to the colony. We're ready to go-"
"What about me," Ehlena said.
Tohr's voice was gentle. "You're going to wait with the boys in the Hummer-"
"The hell I am. You're going to need a medic-"
"And Vishous is one. Which is why he's going in first with the others."
"Along with me. I can find him-he fed from-"
Wrath was about to jump in when Bella's voice cut through the argument.
"Let her go in with the others." There was a quick, breathless silence from everyone as Rehvenge's sister spoke sharply. "I want her to go in."
"Thank you," Ehlena said in a small voice, like it had been decided.
"You're his female," Bella murmured. "Aren't you."
"Yes."
"You were on his mind the last time I saw him. It was clear how he felt about you." Bella's voice grew even stronger. "She has to go. Even if you can find him, he'll live only for her."
Wrath, who'd never really been on board with that nurse joining the team, opened his mouth to can the idea...but then he thought back a year or two, remembering when he'd been shot in the stomach and Beth had been beside him. She had been the reason he'd survived. Her voice and her touch and the power of their connection had been the only things that had pulled him through.
God knew what the symphaths had been doing to Rehv up there in the colony. If he was still breathing, chances were good he was hanging by a thread.
"She should go," Wrath said. "It might be all that gets him out alive."
Tohr cleared his throat. "I don't think-"
"That's an order."
There was a long, disapproving pause. Which was broken only when Wrath raised his right hand and flashed the massive black diamond that had been worn by every king of the race.
"Okay. Fine." Tohr cleared his throat. "Z, I want you guarding her."
"Roger that."
"Please..." Bella said roughly. "Bring my brother home. Bring him back where he belongs."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, Ehlena vowed, "We will. One way or the other."
No clarification was needed for that. The female meant alive or dead, and everyone, including Rehvenge's sister, knew it.
Wrath said some things in the Old Language, things that he could remember hearing his father speak to the Brotherhood. Wrath's voice had a different tone to it, though. His father hadn't minded staying home to be on the throne.
It ate Wrath alive.
After some good-byeing, the Brothers and the females left on a chorus of boots hitting the mosaic floor.
The vestibule's door shut.
Beth took his free hand. "How you doing?"
By the tightness of her voice, she knew exactly how he was, but he didn't begrudge her the question. She was concerned and worried, just as he would have been in her position, and sometimes the only thing you could do was ask.
"I've been better." He pulled her against him, and as she fit her body to his, George pressed his head in for a stroke.
Even with both of them, Wrath was lonely.
It seemed to him, as he stood in the grand foyer whose depths and colors and wonder he could no longer see, that he had ended up in the very place he hadn't wanted to ever find himself: Going out to fight even though he was king had not been just about the war and the species. It had been for himself, too. He'd wanted to be more than a paper-pushing aristocrat.
Evidently, however, fate was bound and determined to shove him in that peg hole of a throne one way or the other.
He squeezed Beth's hand, then released it and gave the command to move forward to George. When he and the dog got to the vestibule, he opened the way through the various doors until they stepped free of the house.
Facing the courtyard, Wrath stood in the cold wind, his hair getting swept out and away from his head. Breathing in, he smelled snow, but felt nothing on his cheeks. Just the promise of a storm, apparently.
George settled into a sit as Wrath searched the sky he could not behold. If it was going to snow, was it cloudy yet? Or were the stars still out? What phase was the moon in?
The yearning in his chest made him strain his dead eyes in an attempt to pull out shapes or forms from the world. It used to work...gave him a headache, but it used to work.
Now he just got the headache.
From behind him, Beth said, "Do you want me to get you a coat?"
He smiled a little and looked over his shoulder, imagining her standing in the mansion's great portal, the glow of the lights from inside framing her.
"You know," he said, "this is why I love you so much."
Her tone was heartbreakingly warm. "What do you mean?"
"You don't ask me to go inside because it's cold. You just want to make it easier for me to be where I want to stand." He shifted around to face her. "To be honest, I ask myself why the hell you stay with me. After all the shit..." He motioned around at the facade of the mansion. "The constant interruptions of the Brotherhood, the fighting, the kingship. My being an ass**le about keeping things from you." He briefly touched his wraparounds. "The blindness...I swear, you're going for sainthood."
As she came over, the night-blooming rose of her scent grew stronger even in the stiff breeze. "That's not it."
She touched both his cheeks, and as he leaned in to kiss her, she stopped him. Holding his head steady, she lifted his sunglasses off his face and caressed his brows with her free hand.
"I stay with you because, whether you have sight or not, I see the future in your eyes." His lids fluttered as she brushed gently across the bridge of his nose. "Mine. The Brotherhood's. The race's...such beautiful eyes you have. And you're even braver to me now than ever before. You don't need to fight with your hands to have courage. Or be the king your people need. Or be my hellren." She put her palm in the center of his broad chest. "You live and lead from here. This heart...here."
