by Дж. Р. Уорд
Bella closed her eyes, put her head on her hellren’s shoulder, and listened to the story.
Of all the places she’d ever been, this was the best one. Right here. With the two of them.
And she knew Zsadist felt the same way. It was in all the hours he spent with Nalla and all the days he reached through the sheets for Bella when they were alone. It was in the fact that he’d started singing again, and that he’d begun to roughhouse with his Brothers, not for training, but for fun. It was in his new smile, the one she’d never seen before and couldn’t wait to see again.
It was the light in his eyes and in his heart.
He was…happy with his life. And getting happier.
As if he’d read her mind, Z took her hand in his larger one and gave her a squeeze.
Yes, he felt exactly the same. This was his favorite place, too.
Bella listened to the story and let herself drift off, just as her daughter did, safe in the knowledge that all was where it should be.
Their male had come back to them…and was here to stay.
The Brotherhood Dossiers
His Royal Highness Wrath, Son of Wrath
“Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.”
—DARK LOVER, p. 107
Age: 343
Joined Brotherhood: Long story on that one…
Height: 6′9″
Weight: 273 lbs.
Hair color: Black, straight, down to small of back
Eye color: Pale green
Identifying physical marks: Tattoos on both forearms detailing royal lineage; Brotherhood scar on left pectoral; name ELIZABETH carved in skin across upper back and shoulders in Old English letters.
Note: Eyesight is weak—eyes hypersensitive to light, likely due to his purebred lineage. Wears sunglasses at all times.
Weapon of choice: Hira shuriken (martial arts throwing stars)
Description:
Wrath was six feet, nine inches of pure terror dressed in leather. His hair was long and black, falling straight from a widow’s peak. Wraparound sunglasses hid eyes that no one had ever seen re vealed. Shoulders were twice the size of most males’. With a face that was both aristocratic and brutal, he looked like the king he was by birthright and the soldier he’d become by destiny.
—DARK LOVER, p. 3
Mated to: Elizabeth Anne Randall
Personal Qs (answered by Wrath):
Last movie watched: Meatballs (Rhage’s fault)
List book read: Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown (for Nalla)
Favorite TV show: NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams
Last TV show watched: The Office (also a fave)
Last game played: Monopoly
Greatest fear: Death
Greatest love: Beth
Favorite quote: Rule by the heart and the fist.
Boxers or briefs: Boxers, black
Watch: Braille
Car: Beth drives me in her Audi, or Fritz takes me out
What time is it while you’re filling this out: 2 p.m.
Where are you? In my study
What are you wearing? Black leathers, black Hanes T-shirt, shitkickers
What’s in your closet? More of the same, in addition to one black Brooks Brothers suit, and whites for audiences with the Scribe Virgin
What was the last thing you ate? Lamb sandwich made by Beth
Describe your last dream? None of your business
Coke or Pepsi? Coke
Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe? Beth Randall
Kirk or Picard? Kirk
Football or baseball? Rugby
Sexiest part of a female? My shellan’s throat
What do you like most about Beth? Everything. Yeah, that covers it
First words spoken to her were: “I thought we’d try this again.”
Her response was: “Who are you?”
Last gift given to her: Canary diamond earrings from Craff to match the ring I gave her
Most romantic thing you’ve ever done for her: You’d have to ask her
Most romantic thing she’s ever done for you: The way she woke me up about an hour ago
Anything you’d change about her? Just that I would have met her a couple of centuries before I did
Best friend (excluding shellan): Lots him ’bout three years ago. ’Nuff said.
Last time you cried: None of your biz
Last time you laughed: ’Bout twenty minutes ago, because I got to watch Nalla discover her toes
J.R.’s Interview with Wrath
Here’s the thing about the king. He’ll allow himself to be interviewed, but it’s on his terms. Which is Wrath in a nutshell. He’s all about his terms, but then I guess when you’re the last purebred vampire on the earth and king of your race and…well, when you’re as big as he is and have a stare that can cut through glass like a diamond, the world is a place you dictate, not dodge around in.
Did I mention that I’m wearing waders at the moment, and I’m thigh-high in an icy Adirondack stream?
Yeah, the king’s taken up fly-fishing.
On this frosty November night, Wrath and I are standing in the midst of rolling, sluggish water that is cold. I have long underwear on, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, as he’s not the type to be bothered by a chill. He did, however, make a concession to a set of gigantic waders, which Fritz custom-tailored for a pair of legs that are each about the size of my upper body. I’m to the side of the king; I figured if I were in front or behind I’d be in hook range, and considering I had to pester him for weeks for this audience, I don’t want to risk a trip to an ER for some kind of tackle-ectomy.
On a side note, Wrath looks worn-down. Mind you, he still outranks 99.9 percent of any of the males I’ve ever seen on the Holy Shit Hot Scale, but then, honestly, can you get sexier than a guy with hip-length black hair, a widow’s peak, and wraparound sunglasses? Not to mention the tats on his forearms and those green eyes and his…
Listen, I have never measured his backside. Ever. Not once. Or the tremendous width of his shoulders. Or his six-pack.
Oh, don’t look at me like that.
Anyway, where were we? Right, the stream. Fly-fishing.
The king and I are about a half mile from Rehvenge’s safe house in the Adirondack Mountains near Black Snake State Park. Wrath is standing about fifteen feet from me, whisking his right arm back and forth in a gentle rhythm, pulling a gossamer-thin fishing line through the stream, then letting it be taken, through the stream, then letting it be taken. The water sounds like wind chimes as it chatters past smooth brown and gray rocks, and the pine trees on either side of the banks whistle as the wind tickles through their branches. The air is cool and crisp, making me think that I’m glad I have a Macintosh apple in the backpack we brought with us—fall just goes with those tart, juicy little buggers.
Oh, and one last salient point. Wrath has a forty strapped under each arm and throwing stars in his pockets. I can see the forties. He told me about the stars.
J.R.: Can I he honest with you?
Wrath: You’d better be. ’Cause I’d smell it it’ you weren’t.
J R.: True enough. Ah…I’m surprised you have the patience tor this. The fishing, that is.
Wrath: (shrugging) It’s not a matter of patience. It’s calming. And no, I’m not taking up yoga. That’s Rhage’s deal.
J.R.: He’s still doing that?
Wrath: Yeah, he’s still namaste-ing his ass into a million different contortions. Swear that fucker’s retractable.
J.R.: Speaking of Rhage and Mary, is it true what I heard?
Wrath: The adoption thing? Yeah. When Nalla came, they both kind of sat up and were like, We want one of those.
J. R.: How long will it take? And white are they going for the young?
Wrath: You’ll hear about it when it’s done. But it’s going to be a whil
e.
J.R.: Well, I’m happy for them. (There’s a stretch of no talking, during which Wrath reels in his line, then casts it out into another pan of the stream.) Do you want—
Wrath: No I’m still not pushing the children thing. After what Bella went through…(Shakes head.) Nope. And before you ask, Beth’s okay with that. I think she’ll want one in the future, though. Just hope it’s later rather than sooner. Although, honestly. she hasn’t even gone through her first needing, so it’s not a huge issue.
J.R.: Suppose you’d like me to change the subject?
Wrath: Up to you. You can ask anything, doesn’t mean I’ll answer. (Shoots a look over his shoulder and smiles at me.) But you know how I do—
J.R.: (laughing) Yeah. I’m familiar with the way things go. So let me ask you about the whole Chosen thing and Phury. What do you think about the changes he made?
Wrath: Man…he impressed the shit out of me. He really did. And not just about what he did with the Scribe Virgin. For a while there, I was sure we were going to lose him.
J.R.: (thinking about Phury and the heroin) You nearly did.
Wrath: Yeah. (There’s another stretch of silence, which I spend watching his arm go back and forth, back and forth. The line makes a lovely sound through the cool forest air, as if it is breathing.) Yeah. Anyhow, that’s why we’re here, at Rehv’s house. I come up with Beth every two weeks or so and meet with Phury and the Directrix and check in how things are going with the Chosen. Christ, can you imagine what the transition’s like for those females? Going from total lockdown to being able to explore a world you’ve only read about?
J.R.: I can’t, no.
Wrath: Phury’s fantastic with them It’s like overnight they’ve all become his daughters. And they love him. He is the perfect Primale, and Cormia’s now their den mother. As she’s had more time to assimilate, she’s doing a lot of transitioning diem herself. I’m really glad it’s gone down like it has.
J.R.: Talking about patent stuff, what’s life like at the mansion now that Nalla’s around?
Wrath: (laughing) Okay, for real? That kid’s a star. She’s got us all wrapped around her little finger. The other day I was working at my desk, and Bella was on walkabout with the young—she does this because lately Nalla only sleeps when she’s moving? Anyway, Bella brought her into my study and the two of them were pacing. Nalla’s head was on Bella’s shoulder and she was out like a light—by the way, the kid’s got eyelashes longer than your arm. So. Bella? She finally sinks down on the couch to take a breather, and two seconds later. I kid you not, Nalla’s eyes flip open and she starts fussing.
J.R.: Poor thing!
Wrath: Bella, right?
J.R.: Yup!
Wrath: (laughing) So I got to hold Nalla. Bella let me hold her. (This is said with no small amount of pride.) I walked the young around. I didn’t drop her.
J.R.: (hiding smile) Of course you didn’t.
Wrath: She went back to sleep. (Shoots crave stare over his shoulder.) You know, young only sleep if they trust you to keep them safe.
J.R.: (softly) Anyone would be safe with you.
Wrath: (looks away quickly) So, yeah, kid’s a gem. Z’s a little uneasy around her still, I think because he’s afraid he’s going to break her—not because he doesn’t love her. Rhage handles her like a sack of potatoes, hauling her any way he pleases, which Nalla loves. Phury’s a natural. So’s Butch.
J.R.: What about Vishous?
Wrath: Meh. I think Nalla makes him nervous. He made her a dagger, though. (laughs) Fucking hard-ass. What kind of crack bastard makes a dagger for an infant?
J.R.: Bet it’s lovely, though.
Wrath: Shit, yeah. He put all these…(The king pauses and flicks at the line as if he thinks he’s got something hooked.) He put all these diamonds on the hilt. Spent three days working on it. Says it’s for when she starts dating.
J.R.: (laughing) I’ll bet.
Wrath: Might go to waste. Zsadist says she’s never dating. Ever.
J.R.: Uh-oh.
Wrath: Yeah. Z’s little girl? You want to be the male coming to call on her? Shiiiiiiit.
J.R.: I’d pass.
Wrath: I know I would. Like my balls right where they are, thank you very much.
J.R.: (after another stretch of quiet) Can I ask about Tohr?
Wrath: Figured you would.
J.R.: (waits for him to say something) So I’m asking about him.
Wrath: (annoyed) Look, what do you want me to say? He went into the woods to die. Lassiter brought him back to people who remind him every day of his dead shellan. He needs to feed, and of course he’s refusing, and I don’t blame him for that at all. He’s weak and angry and he just wants to be dead. That’s how he’s doing.
J.R.: (knowing not to push any more) Is it weird having Lassiter around?
Wrath: (laughs tightly) That angel is a thing all right. I don’t mind him all that much, and I think he knows it. He took a bullet for me once.
J.R.: I’d heard. Do you feel like you owe him?
Wrath: Yeah.
J.R.: He and V don’t get along.
Wrath: No, they don’t. (laughs) That’s going to be fun to watch. It’s like two pit bulls in a cage whenever they’re in the same room. And before you ask, no. I don’t know all the ins and outs, and I’m not asking.
J.R.: Talking about ins and outs…about the glymera—
Wrath: Shit, why do you want to ruin a perfectly nice evening.
J.R.: Well. I was going to ask you how you felt about Rehvenge being appointed leahdyre of the Princeps Council.
Wrath: (roars with laughter) Okay, you’re so forgiven. Man, what a trip that is. Who the fuck would have thought that’ll happen? A symphath. Leading that group of insular, prejudicial bastards. And they have no idea he is one. Plus, come on, Rehv’s on my side in this growing civil unrest they’re trying to stir up after all the raids by the Lessening Society. They’ve just appointed someone who thinks the aristocrats are as nuts and as destructive as I do.
J.R.: But do you trust Rehv?
Wrath: As much as I trust anyone who’s not my brother or Beth.
J.R.: So the fact that he’s half symphath—
Wrath: Hold up. He’s a symphath. Whether his blood s half-and-half is irrelevant. You got any of that shit in you, you’re a symphath. That’s why that colony up north of here was created. They are dangerous.
J.R.: So that’s why I’m asking if you trust him. I thought they were all sociopaths.
Wrath: They are, and so is he. Here’s the thing, though…with symphath, the one thing you can take to the fucking bank is then self-interest. Rehv loves his sister. Bella’s married to a Brother. Therefore, Rehv will do nothing to hurt them or me. That math holds in all situations.
J.R.: Do you think the glymera poses a threat to you as king?
Wrath: Look, straight up? I don’t like them and never have, but shit knows I don’t want them dead. Right now they’re fragmented, out of Caldwell, and they’re scrambling. The longer that goes on, the better for me, because it gives me time to gather the reins as best I can and try to give people a vision to get through this. As long as I have a base of support among the larger group of civilians, I’m fine. And let’s face it, the glymera isn’t about inclusion, so it’s not as if your average vampire feels an allegiance to them.
J.R.: What is your vision for the future?
Wrath: Change. Phury’s absolutely right, we need to adapt if we’re going to survive, and the old rules are killing us. I’ve already outlawed slavery. I’m changing the rules about soldiers and the Brotherhood. The Chosen have been set free. And there are a hundred other things I need to recast, rethink, redo.
J.R.: About the Brotherhood. So that means Blay and Qhuinn could be Brothers?
Wrath: Assuming they get enough experience under their belts and can rise to the level. The threshold for being a Brother is going to be set very high in terms of skills. Blood’s not going to get you in anymore,
how you fight will. And I’m freeing up other restrictions. You know, Qhuinn is Johns private guard, and in the past that would have disqualified him, but not anymore.
J.R.: I’m surprised that you let him and Blay into the house. Glad, actually.
Wrath: (after a moment) Well…Darius built that place, and he loved having people around. Those two boys are tight, and shit knows, Qhuinn did right by John. S’all good. Thing is, the training program is on hiatus for God only knows how long. The glymera took what sons were left with them when they went, and besides, we’ve had our hands full dealing with the war. I need soldiers, and Blay and Qhuinn are good fighters. Excellent, really. So we’re going to want them.
(Long silence.)
J.R.: Are you happy? I mean, I know things are hard right now, but are you happier than you were a couple of years ago?
The line suddenly goes taut, and Wrath focuses on bringing in what turns out to be a freshwater trout. The fish is gleaming and slippery in the king’s big hands, and he almost loses it while trying to get the hook out of its gaping mouth.
J.R.: He’s beautiful.
Wrath: Yeah, full of fight, too. (He leans down and puts the fish to the water, holding it carefully.) You ask me if I’m happy? Well…after this, we’re going back to a warm house and my shellan’s waiting for me there. We’re going to eat, assuming Layla hasn’t burned down the kitchen, and then I’m going to get into bed with Beth. I’m going to mate with her for an hour, maybe longer, then I’m going to fall asleep with her on my chest. (He releases the trout and watches it tear off through the sluggish current.) You ready to go?
J.R.: Yeah. And I appreciate your doing this.
Wrath: Not a problem. Except you think you’re going to drive down to Caldwell now to do the others?
J.R.: That’s the plan.
Wrath: (shaking head) No, you’re staying here tonight. Tomorrow you’ll leave late afternoon. It’s a long drive, and the Northway’s got deer.
J.R.: (because you do not argue with the king) All right. That’s what I’ll do.