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“I have a table for two reserved in twenty minutes at L’Orangerie,” he announced. “I want to know if you want to go on a date.”
Devina opened her mouth. Closed it.
“I also got you a present. Here.”
He held out an enormous orange bag, the thing swinging gently between them.
The demon looked at him. Looked at the bag.
And when she just stood there, frozen, he bounced the weight a little—like maybe she hadn’t seen it.
As if she could have missed the thing, especially given the logo in the center, of a jaunty little man in front of a horse and carriage.
With a shaking hand, Devina reached out and took the handles. Stepping back, she wondered where to open it—and decided her coffee table, over where her white leather chairs and love seat still were.
As she padded across the concrete floor, Lash said, “Where are you moving to? You got a new place?”
Sitting down on her little sofa, she took out an orange box the size of a microwave, and boy, it was heavy. Undoing the brown ribbon, she lifted the top and saw layers of carefully folded tissue paper.
She was gentle with the revealing, peeling back the fine sheets until she exposed a pale herringbone-patterned bag with the Hermès crest once again on it, the little horseman and his trotter a perfect visual vignette to remind the customer that saddlery was where it had all started.
As she pushed the box aside, she opened the neck of the giant fabric pouch, and the instant she saw the handles, her heart stopped.
With careful tugs, she pulled out… a pristine Himalayan Birkin 35 with the diamond hardware.
“Yours got wrecked,” Lash said remotely. “So I bought you a new one.”
Putting her hand to her mouth, she had to blink away tears.
“There are matching bangles. I bought them for you, too. They’re in the bag itself.”
When she could compose herself, she looked up at him. The Omega’s son was staring down at her, his evil eyes guarded, but unwavering.
“So,” he said. “You want to get dressed and head out? I’ve got a limo waiting for us.”
It was an eternity before Devina could find her voice to answer him.
Clearing her throat, the demon replied, “I do.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
The night after the funeral, the Brotherhood and the other fighters convened in Wrath’s study, and Lassiter made sure that he was down from the Sanctuary for the meeting. Unsurprisingly, no one spoke as they filed in and found their regular spots, like they were visiting hallowed ground and didn’t want to be disrespectful.
On his side, Lassiter felt conflicted. He and Rahvyn had spent the daylight hours up in his private quarters. They had made love, yes, in a reconnecting, reverent way—and when they hadn’t been joined in that special fashion, they had both lain awake. Until she had gone to check on Beth just now.
And he had come here.
It was hard to balance their joy with all the suffering. But life was like that, an equilibrium that was sustained, by the good… and the bad, both parts required.
By design.
As the doors were shut by Tohr, Lassiter glanced across the way. Eddie and Adrian were in their spot in the corner and the angels lifted their hands in greeting to him. They were going to be a great addition, especially as things got rougher. Which they were going to.
When everybody was present and it was time to get started, Tohr went over to the desk and the throne, and stood there for a moment, looking like he was lost. Then the brother who had seen more grief than anybody else slowly pivoted around.
Taking a deep breath, his voice was low and strained. “We need to, ah, discuss the memo that was circulated by the newly established Council.” He cleared his throat and went around to stand beside the throne and face out into the room. “There is the meeting of them tonight, and I’ve asked Saxton to check the legality of what they’re doing, see if there’s some way of stopping them… He doubts there is, but, yeah, he’s going to look.”
There was a grumble from a couple of males. Halfhearted, at best.
“Um, so we are going to have to get an announcement out about what… happened.” Tohr took another deep breath. “Civilians have a right to know. Of course, this couldn’t be a worse time… not that it would ever be a good time.”
The brother looked around the room. “As for succession, Wrath was democratically elected so… there is none. Not in the traditional bloodline sense. I imagine that, with the Council re-forming, they’ll put up somebody. I don’t know if any of you want to step forward for consideration? I won’t be putting my name into the ring. I have no interest in… anyway, we’re going to end up being ruled by some dandy in a suit. And I… well…”
