by J. R. Ward
He was going to see the logic in this, Xcor thought.
And sure enough, a moment later the King nodded once.
"So be it," Wrath said with a nod. "That is good enough for me--"
"Are you fucking kidding me--"
The King's hand shot out so fast the eye could barely track it, and somehow, even without sight, he got the trajectory right, clamping a hold on the throat of his fighter. He didn't even look in Vishous's direction, his focus remaining on Xcor.
In response, Vishous didn't defend himself, even as he was forced to gasp for breath, his goateed jaw dropping open.
"Don't you love it when people know their places," Wrath said to Xcor tightly. "When they understand those moments when they need to keep their fucking mouths shut."
Xcor had to smile. Wrath and he were kin in some ways, weren't they.
"Aye, my Lord," he murmured.
Wrath dropped his hold. "Like I said, this is sufficient for me. But as you can tell, my boys are going to require a greater proof of concept." The King touched the side of his nose. "I can scent you. I know this is what you believe, and our past conflicts aside, I don't think you're a fucking moron--nor do I believe for an instant that you would put those males of yours in the path of death."
"He did once before," Vishous cut in with a sneer. "That's how Throe ended up with us."
"Sounds like he got rid of the right one, though."
Xcor nodded. "Aye. Which was why I warned you of him."
Wrath inclined his head. "That was much appreciated. And we'll deal with him after we settle this with your people."
"You're not going to have a problem with that, are you?" Vishous demanded of Xcor.
"No." He shrugged. "That male goes his own way, and it is incompatible with yours and therefore mine. How you choose to address that is up to you."
"Then that is settled as well." Wrath smiled, revealing his tremendous fangs. "But as I was saying, my boys are going to require some proof. So we're going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned swearing ceremony with witnesses."
"I thought you were going to do this one on one," Vishous said in a low voice--while he pointedly stepped out of choke range.
"The Band of Bastards will not attack us." Wrath shook his head. "Not going to happen. He holds their chains, I can feel the power in him. A male like him isn't this calm for no good reason, ain't that true, Xcor."
"Aye. They will not raise a weapon against any in the Brotherhood. I will gather them at midnight on the morrow and bring them to you wherever you command. It cannot be before then, however, as I have no way of reaching them until that time. We are out of communication for their safety in case"--he glanced at Vishous--"things go awry. You understand."
Wrath chuckled a little. "Yeah, I feel you. So it is done--"
"What about your safety, Xcor?" Layla said with anger. "How will you be safe?"
The King fielded that one, speaking gently. "He'll be fine, not to worry--"
Layla wheeled on Xcor. "Why don't you tell him about how you were shot last night. And by who."
As his female interrupted her ruler, Xcor deliberately did not change his expression. "I told you, my love, it was a lesser--"
"No, it was not." Her eyes swung to Wrath. "They shot him last night."
"No," Xcor countered as he squeezed her hand, trying to silence her. "It was naught but a slayer."
Across the tidy kitchen, Wrath's brows dropped down behind his wraparound sunglasses, a chill hitting the air. And then he said, "I'm going to ask you this once, and you better be fucking honest. Did one of my males raise a gun to you at any time since you gave your vow to me?"
Xcor met the King's blind stare and projected confidence. "No, they did not."
By this time, he was gripping Layla's hand so hard he was positive he must be hurting her, so he relented his hold. But he prayed she stayed quiet.
Wrath's nostrils flared. And then he inclined his head once. "So be it. Midnight tomorrow. You will meet us downtown, Fifteenth and Market. There's a vacant warehouse. You can't miss it."
"We will be there at twelve fifteen. I am seeing them at midnight and we shall need to come to you."
Wrath walked forward and put his dagger hand out into thin air. "You and your males have my word. Provided they offer no threat to my boys, no one will get hurt."
Xcor took hold of what he was offered and they shook.
"Until the morrow," he said to the King in the Old Language.
"Until the morrow," Wrath repeated.
As Wrath and Vishous took their leave, departing out the slider, Xcor could only hope that that promise which had been given was one the King could keep.
"They're going to kill you," Layla said in a dead voice. "You will not live through that meeting."
Xcor looked over at her. He hated the fear in her pale face, the trembling in her body. In the quiet of the safe house, he wanted to lie to her. He wanted to know how she'd found out the truth. He wanted...to stay with her forever.
But destiny had already answered that last one.
Reaching out with his hand of peace, not of war, he touched her smooth cheek. Brushed her lower lip with his thumb. Stroked the vital vein that ran up the side of her throat.
"He cannot guarantee your safety." With a desperate curse, she turned her face to his palm and kissed his war-hardened skin. "Not when it comes to Tohrment or Qhuinn. And well you know it."
"How?" he breathed. "How did you know?"
"Does it matter?"
No, he supposed, it did not.
"Why didn't you say something?" she begged. "Why didn't you tell Wrath?"
"Because ultimately it matters not. Safety in times of conflict is an illusion that can only be peddled, never promised. He and I both know that. If one of them decides to solve a problem that does not exist independently, nobody will be able to stop that. Free will is a universal truth, just like gravity."
"But it's not fair. It's not right."
"And that is why I must protect myself and expect no one, not even the great Blind King, to do it for me."
"Xcor, you need to--"
"Shh," he said as he put his forefinger to her lips. "No more talk of war. There are far better things we must do with our time."
As he brought her against him, he rolled his hips, proving his arousal even though she could no doubt scent it.
"Let me be in you," he said as he kissed her. "I need you the now."
She did not immediately respond and he gave her the time she required to sort out the difference between what was hope and what was reality, what was principle and what was fact. She was a smart female, not versed in the ways of fighting, but not naive, either.
And at the end of the night, she knew that whether he lived or died the following evening, their future was not together. If he survived, he was going back to the Old Country and she was staying in Caldwell. If he died? Well, that was him over and done with, likely in Dhunhd.
"I love you," she whispered when she finally tilted her head back for more of his kiss. "Always."
Xcor stroked her blond hair back. "You are more than I deserve and everything I have ever wanted."
With that, he sealed their mouths and tried to forget that time was running out for them. It was hard not to remember, however.
And he knew it was the same for her.
FIFTY-SIX
As Vishous and Wrath arrived back at the Brotherhood's courtyard, V was shaking his head. Oh, this was going to be a fun time. Yup, right up there with getting gutted while you were still alive.
The King wheeled around and was so furious there was proverbial smoke coming out of those ears of his. "You tell that motherfucker to get up to my study."
"You want everybody or just--"
"Tohrment. You fucking get that asshole right now and bring him to me! What the fuck was he thinking?"
Wrath pivoted away and headed for the stone steps to the mansion's entrance, clearly so pissed off he'd forgotten h
e couldn't see. And yeah, for a second, V was tempted to let Mr. Personality learn the hard way he was still blind.
He caved, though, jumping forward and catching the King's arm. "Shut the fuck up," he muttered before Wrath could jerk them apart. "You want a head injury on top of all this shit?"
It was like cozying up to dry ice, the King's mood so bad he turned the air around him even more arctic. But at least V was able to get the guy in through the vestibule and out the other side to the foyer. He knew better to hold on after that, though.
Dropping his grip on that thick biceps, he got out his backup phone and hit Tohr's number as Wrath thundered across the mosaic depiction of the apple tree in full bloom, relying on memory and stride count to find the lowest step--
A ringing sounded out. And not only in V's ear.
It was emanating from high above the foyer.
Vishous lowered his cell phone as Wrath took the stairs two at a time.
"Perfect timing," V muttered as he rushed to catch up.
Sure enough, Tohrment was sitting in one of the chairs right outside Wrath's study, as if he had seen the future and knew he was going to get his ass chewed for shooting Xcor. And clearly, the guy wasn't feeling too good about things, although whether that was because he'd disobeyed a direct order on a whim or was about to catch shit, it was hard to know. In any event, the brother's head was down, his shoulders caved, his body uncharacteristically self-contained.
"No reason to answer your call, my brother," the guy said as he turned around his cell phone. "I'm right here."
Wrath bared his fangs and hissed. "Get in there. We are not doing this shit in public."
As Tohr rose to his feet and complied with the order, V didn't ask permission to join the pair of them. He walked right in behind Wrath, shut the doors, and leaned back, holding the handles together.
Wrath didn't waste a damn second. "You're out."
Tohr shook his head. "What?"
"You're out of the Brotherhood. Out. I'm removing you, effective immediately."
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. That was not the way this was supposed to go, V thought.
No, see, Tohr was the glue that held the Brotherhood together. Save for that time right after Wellsie had been killed, he was always the one who was steady and sure, the quieting force that had kept people's heads together.
"And you shut the fuck up."
It took V a minute to realize that Wrath was addressing him. No time to respond, though, because Tohr grabbed the mic.
"He's right, V. I disobeyed a direct order. I shot at Xcor last night when I saw him out in the city. There have to be consequences."
Wrath seemed a little taken aback at the easy acquiescence.
Tohr just shrugged. "It was the wrong thing to do. It was in direct conflict with your position and what you hoped to accomplish. Guess being a traitor runs in my family."
"What?" V said sharply.
The brother waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. Autumn and I will move out first thing tomorrow. Unless you want us to leave tonight."
Wrath frowned. And then went over to his desk, circumventing the sofas and finding the throne.
As he lowered himself into his father's seat, he seemed utterly exhausted, and sure enough, he popped up his wraparounds and rubbed his eyes.
"Why?" he said. "What the fuck is such a big deal about Xcor? Why can't you let this shit go?"
"I will now. That's all that matters. I have...no interest in pursuing murder."
"What's changed?"
Tohr just shook his head. "Nothing of consequence. In the larger scheme of things."
Something rang in the back of V's head, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and man, that was really fucking irritating. But he was tired, and not just because his body was exhausted from lack of sleep.
Wrath sat forward. "Listen to me. The war is grinding down, we're so close to ending this. I don't want the distraction for you people. I don't want you bunch of hardheaded assholes chasing after five douchebags just because they once had a political agenda that included my head on a plate. Xcor knows where we live. He hasn't done shit about it. He's been staying with Layla for the last forty-eight hours and I feel their connection. He is also fully committed to this brokered peace and getting the fuck out of Caldwell. There is no more conflict and not just because I say so."
"I know." Tohr walked over to the fire and stared into the flames. "I, ah, my Wellsie would have been two hundred and twenty-six years old three nights ago. My young that she carried would have been two and a half years old. I think that's getting to me."
"Fuck," the King breathed. "I'd forgotten."
The brother shrugged. "It doesn't excuse my actions. What I did is not worthy of you or myself. But I will say that..." He cleared his throat. "I've been in search of some kind of vengeance for quite a while, and I found it in an inappropriate goal. The real target of my anger is fate, and that is nothing you can stab or shoot. It just is--and on some nights, that is harder to accept than others."
Wrath sat back on his throne and let his head loll onto the high carved back of the grand chair. After a moment, he pointed to the door. "Leave me. Both of you. My skull is about to fucking explode and I don't want the dry-cleaning bill for your goddamn shirts."
Tohr bowed low. "As you wish, my Lord. And Autumn and I will depart--"
"No offense," Wrath muttered, "but stop fucking talking, okay? Just leave me. I'll see you first thing tomorrow night--and bring the rest of the brothers with you. Go. Go."
--
Outside the King's study, Tohr paused as his brother V closed the doors and looked over with hard eyes.
"FYI," the male said, "Xcor denied it."
Tohr frowned. "I'm sorry, what?"
V lit up a hand-rolled and exhaled smoke like it was a curse. "I was right there when Wrath asked him who had shot him, and he refused to give you up. Does he know it was you?"
"Yeah."
"Who else was there with you?" When Tohr didn't immediately answer, the brother leaned in and pointed with his hand-rolled. "I knew it. And you tell Qhuinn to cut the shit, or I will. I got no love for Xcor, I could give a fuck about him and the Band of Bastards. Kill 'em, leave 'em breathing, I don't care. But Wrath's right. We've fought a millennium to deliver the Dhestroyer Prophecy right up the Omega's ass, and the timing is getting ripe. No distractions, true. Enough with this petty shit."
"I can't control Qhuinn. No one can. We all saw that a couple of nights ago, didn't we."
"That motherfucker. He needs to reel himself in."
As V looked down the hall like he intended to go to the guy, Tohr put himself in the way. "I'll talk with him. I may be out of the Brotherhood, but your delivery sucks."
"I'm not that bad."
"Compared to a chainsaw, that's probably true. But we don't need any more hotheads going off right now. Everybody's about to blow."
V used his cigarette tip as a pointer. "You fix this shit, Tohr. Or I will."
"You're the second person who's said that to me tonight."
"Then get on it."
On that note, V took his leave and descended the grand staircase like he had a job to do--which involved putting someone who annoyed him in a choke hold.
When Tohr was sure there was no one around, he went to the hall of statues and strode down, passing by the contoured depictions of humans in war poses. At the third door, he kept his knock quiet, and when an answer came, he looked both ways once again.
Slipping into Qhuinn's bedroom--or rather, the one Layla had stayed in--he closed the door quickly and almost locked it.
Qhuinn was over by the youngs' bassinets, doing something with a bottle. "Hey," he said without glancing up.
"We need to talk."
"Do we?" The brother looked over. "Did you kill him?"
"No, but I did just get kicked out of the Brotherhood."
Qhuinn straightened and turned around. "What?"
"Wrath was right to do it."
"He lied. For you and me. Xcor refused to give us up. He refused to tell Wrath what we did."
"Well, isn't he a fucking hero." Qhuinn frowned. "But if he didn't spill, who did?"
"Layla figured it out. She came to me--she saw that he was shot and didn't believe him when he said it was slayers. I didn't deny it to her."
"Ah, yes, the Chosen paragon." Qhuinn refocused on the young. "How tight is she, huh? She's always willing to stick up for her man. Too bad that kind of loyalty doesn't run in our direction."
Tohr shook his head. "Don't do it, Qhuinn. I may be out, but you'll be there tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night? What's going on?"
"The Brotherhood and the Band of Bastards are meeting. You'll hear about it first thing after sunset tomorrow. Wrath is going to call the brothers together and take you all out to meet with them so you can witness their oath to Xcor."
"Why the fuck would I care about that?" The brother took the bottle into the bathroom and came back out wiping his hands with a towel. "Xcor's boys want to circle jerk with that bastard, it's not my business."
Tohr shook his head and felt like he was hopping on Wrath's skull-plosion train: In the space of about thirty minutes, he had nearly gotten violent with a female for the first time in his life, found out he had a long-lost brother, and been kicked out of the Brotherhood.
It was too much to comprehend, too much to process.
All he wanted to do was find Autumn and talk to her, tell her that he was sorry...but that courtesy of his piss-poor decision making, they were going to have to find another place to live.
Jesus, was this his life?
"Don't do it," he heard himself say. "Please, I've let this go. You need to as well."
"I don't have to do shit." The brother pointed at the bassinets. "Except take care of those two and try to convince Blay to come home to me and them. That's all I owe anybody."
"Including Wrath? The Brotherhood? The people in this house?"
As Qhuinn fell silent, Tohr pointed to the corner where the bullet holes had been, the evidence of Qhuinn's temper obviously having been replastered and repainted. "Everybody's lost their damn minds lately. And that is what happens when emotions run hot and logic goes out the window and stress rules the night. You're right, you have to take care of your kids. So do it by not getting yourself killed. You discharge a firearm at Xcor before, during, or after that meeting, and people are going to die. Maybe most of them are Bastards, maybe you even take out Xcor, but bulletproof vests only protect the heart, and if you want to do right by those two kids, you make it so you come home at dawn. Because I will guarantee you we will lose some of our people, too, and one of those casualties might just be yourself."