by JL Madore
“Not a problem, little brother. Give me five. I need to hit the men’s room before we head out.”
“’Kay, meet you at the foyer doors.”
“Inside the doors,” Hark specified.
Ringo waved his hand over his head. “Yeah, yeah, inside until you’re there.”
“Little brother?” a woman’s voice came from behind, and he turned. Her smile was coy, her manicured brow arched in a gentle curve. He followed the sensual line of a sleek, little black dress that left little to the imagination “Funny. The kid doesn’t look anything like you.”
Hark was more than a little intoxicated but wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t recognize the stunning, black musician who’d played the viola in the string quartet. He’d admired her skills from across the room all evening.
He may have admired a few other attributes as well.
“Brother from another mother,” he said in explanation of Ringo being a fifteen-year-old Amer-Asian, and him being a thirteen-hundred-year-old black Moor.
In truth, they had different sires too, but that meant nothing in their world. They were Nephilim, throwaway bastards of asshole Archangels, and they were brothers. End of.
“Finished for the night?”
She chuffed and tilted her head to the dance floor. “From Stravinsky to this? It seems sophistication and good taste is lost on this crowd.”
The judgment in her tone wasn’t flattering. Then again, if music was her passion, he understood how the current playlist might feel like a slight to her talents.
“Don’t take it personally. The elegance of the evening can be attributed to your quartet. We needn’t all enjoy the same things or be the same people. How boring would that be?”
She shot a look over his shoulder and frowned. “There is something to be said for refinement.”
Hark frowned. Storme did something kind for Austin, and he wasn’t about to stand there and listen to a stranger insult them for letting off a little steam. With a dip of his chin, he backed away. “Have a good evening.”
“Wait? What?” The quick clicking of her heels on the marble tile followed him out of the ballroom and into the hotel corridor. “I thought . . . I mean, you were staring at me half the night. Don’t you even want my number or anything?”
Hark offered a polite smile—at least, he hoped that’s how it came across. He couldn’t feel his face, so he had no way to know for sure. “I was raised in an era when people spoke kindly of others, ladies protected their virtue, and men held honor above all else. Yes, I admired you from a distance—you are a vision, as I’m sure you know—but as with most mirages, when you get too close, the beauty fades. If you’ll excuse me.”
He found Ringo lying on a leather sofa in the front lobby, his tie dangling from the pocket of his jacket, his shirt untucked and hanging loose. “Ready to roll, buddy?”
Ringo nodded, looking a little green in the gills. “Hark? I don’t feel so good.”
Perfect. “All right, maybe some fresh air will do you some good. Let’s see how you feel once we get home.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ren awaited the return of Ayana and assured that everything in their suite was exactly how her sister expected it. The flowers were freshly picked, and only in the state of full bloom. The mirrors were polished to a perfect sheen. And the tasks on her datapad were listed in descending order based on the sender’s ranking in the hierarchy, their financial standing, and beyond that, his or her physical appeal.
Ayana took form on the balcony and stormed inside.
“Welcome home, sister. How was your evening?”
Ayana’s eyes flashed as she stopped before the massive mirror she adored so much. The piece stood on the floor in a heavy, gold gilded frame and reached to the ceiling ten feet above. Running her hands over her statuesque curves, she seemed to reassure herself that her beauty remained as provocatively perfect as ever.
“There is something seriously wrong with that male,” she said, pulling the length of her mahogany red hair back to inspect the cut of her cheekbones. “That Nephilim warrior chose the company of a drunken boy and dismissed me as if I were nothing more than a common human.”
“In truth, he had no idea you were anything more.”
“Of course not, but still, he all but said he found me unworthy. Can you imagine? Me, unworthy?”
Ren did find that hard to believe, but likely not for the same reasons her sister did. Males generally fell at her sister’s feet. They panted over her, fought over her, twisted themselves in knots to catch her attention. The two of them might be twins, but the division of cells created two very different people.
Ayana received the curves and allure of a seductress of the Choir. She was lean, confident, and moved like a willowy goddess of the heavens. Musically gifted, she excelled at anything she laid her hands upon.
Things came easily to her, and she made life look easy.
Ren, however, found herself on the other side of things. Instead of the rounds of breast and hips, she possessed the rounds of face and butt. She was private, timid, and awkward. Where Ayana was a goddess, she was definitely a cherub. She preferred books to people, expected nothing from others, and she’d worked to earn everything she had ever gotten.
Ayana took one last look at her reflection and shook her head. Seemingly baffled, she strode down the ivory hall toward their living room. “Perhaps living among humans for centuries dims the mind. That would certainly explain a lot.”
Ren was as surprised as her sister that the Watcher found her wanting and turned her down, though, she suspected it proved his wit keen rather than dim.
She loved her sister but wouldn’t wish her upon anyone, let alone one of the heroes of the Choir. “What will you tell the Archangel?”
She stepped to the balcony and stared at the great temple in the distance. It shone bright, the white marble and gold spires. The brilliance was too strong to look at during the day, but at night, it glowed with indescribable radiance.
It stood a monument to the heavenly powers and the ethereal beauty they possessed.
“I need not tell the Archangel anything. There is still time to catch the Watcher’s fancy. Before the week is through, that warrior will be naked and bowing at my feet.”
Knowing her sister, Ren had no doubt.
Hark dropped Ringo into his bed at the same moment Tanek came in with a tall glass of water and two pain relievers. Kyrian and Zander had looked up the human remedy on the internet the first time Ringo got drunk downstairs in the club. Plenty of hydration, pain tablets, and rest. Their boy wouldn’t be wholly human much longer, but until his transition, the kid had to recover at human speed. “Sleep well, little brother.”
Tanek helped the boy take the tablets and drink the water, then he got things refilled while Hark unlaced his checkerboard Vans and set them on the floor at the end of his bed.
“What about a basin?”
“Good idea.” Tanek jogged back to the washroom and returning with the trash bin. “Hey, Ringo. If you’re going to be sick, there’s a bucket right beside you, ’kay?”
“’Kay,” he said, eyes closed, his chin bobbing. Throwing out his arm, he pointed at them. “I love you guys.”
Hark chuckled and squeezed the kid’s foot. “Love you right back, little man.”
The two of them didn’t talk as they descended to the main floor. Ringo wasn’t their only kid sleeping. Zane, Niobi, and Sunshine were each tucked in their beds, their parents having a well-deserved night out.
“So, how’d it go on the homefront?” Hark asked as they entered the war room.
Tanek headed to the bar and held up a bottle for approval. When Hark gave him a nod, his former commander poured two glasses and leaned his elbows on the black granite bar top. “Well enough. Zane and Nio were out before everyone left. I watched cartoons and played poker with Sunshine, and Scarlett put her to bed. Other than Zane needing a bottle around midnight, the house has been quiet.”
�
�Poker?” Hark swallowed, thankful Zander was a snob when it came to quality booze. “The girl is what . . . four years old? Shouldn’t you play, I don’t know, dollies or something?”
Tanek made a face. “I don’t do dollies. And I didn’t say she was any good at poker, just that we played it.”
“She didn’t clean you out then?”
Tanek chuckled. “No, she kept showing me when her cards made friends, and they matched. Didn’t matter. It passed the time.”
Hark heard the sadness in the warrior’s words. Once the most famous and respected of all Nephilim warriors, the mighty Tanek had been reduced to a housebound ghost, who babysat and worked the desk while the rest of them were out on the streets. He couldn’t imagine.
Tanek finished his drink and poured another.
It wasn’t only a matter of pride; it was also purpose.
Almost three millennia of service, safeguarding humanity, living large out in the world, commanding men, and making life and death decisions every night, and now he was trapped on the same property for eternity.
The guy had to be angry about that.
He sure as hell would be.
It stood testament to Lady Divinity’s grace and compassion that Tanek returned to them after his slaughter. That she also allowed the ghost of Ronnie’s mom to join them was nice for her too. They had no idea how long she’d be staying before she passed over, but Ronnie and Sunshine were soaking up the memories while it lasted.
“Where’s Scarlett now?” Hark asked. Other than the preliminary introductions Ronnie gave them less than a week ago, he’d neither seen nor spoken to the newest member of the household.
“Likely in the window seat in Sunshine’s room. She keeps to herself mostly, but was happy to be called on to help tonight. I guess, after not being able to speak with your kid for almost twenty years, it would be pretty exciting to suddenly get a second chance to be in her life.”
Hark raised his glass. “To second chances.”
Zander fist-bumped Kyrian and then bent to kiss Cassi’s cheek. He and his brothers had corralled the ladies, got them buckled into their seats in the blue bastard—as his new Hummer was lovingly being called—and were ready to roll out and call it a night. “Safe home, to you both.”
“To you, as well.” Cassi accepted Kyrian’s hand to help her into their green Range Rover. The look she flashed him held all the drunken heat he’d been catching from Austin tonight, and he wondered if the Greek and his mate would make it out of the parking lot before that hunger got sated.
“Goodnight, all,” Wilder said, with a casual wave. He had an arm draped over Pyper’s shoulder, while Larkin and Jace flanked them on either side. Four in their bed—huh, it seemed to be working for them. The dragon winked at their hostess. “Thank you, Storme. That was entirely too much fun.”
“Glad you could join us,” she said, climbing into her Mercedes with Phoenix and Jack. “It was a special night.”
He had to agree. They needed to create more family events where they could all unwind together. “Next time, we’ll make sure Rayvn and Jules are free too. Maybe a barbeque picnic out on the track once the weather heats up.”
“Yes!” Austin squealed inside the truck, and he knew she was already planning. “Pyper, I’ll call you.”
Wilder’s woman nodded. Though she’d only met the other wives a few hours ago, he could tell they’d laid the foundation for a strong future friendship.
The wives were good like that.
“Z,” Seth said, holding up his palms. “Let’s roll. Places to go, wives to undress.”
Zander shook his head and laughed. “I’m not cockblocking you, Egyptian. Your wife can dematerialize.”
Seth frowned. “Thea wants to ride home with the others. So, vroom-vroom, my brother, pedal to the metal and all that.”
Zander raised a hand in surrender, and his silver rings caught the exterior security lights of the hotel. He looked at the smiling faces of those he considered family and friends. “All right. We’re off. Stay right, stay tight, everyone.”
By the time Bo got Layne back to the loft over O-Zone, she’d sung him seven verses of a never-ending Djinn drinking song, flung her shoe at some guy that looked at her too long on the sidewalk, and was stripping off her clothes because she was too hot. It took all his warrior skills to wrangle her, throw her over his shoulder, and get her home without them getting arrested.
It was one of the best nights of his life.
He loved having a female to take care of again. After centuries of missing that connection with Gyda and watching the lives his brothers were building with their mates, he was ready to grasp a new kind of future.
Layne was everything he could’ve hoped for and more.
She filled his heart to aching, made his days worth waking, and his nights worth fighting.
He was carrying her toward the bedroom they’d claimed as their temporary honeymoon suite when she smacked his butt and wriggled to get down. “Have to check my searches.”
“I’m betting you can’t even see straight, but all right. One quick look and then I’m taking you to bed.”
Her face pinched, and she pressed a hand to her belly. “I don’t feel good. I don’t think tonight’s your night, Viking.”
Bo chuckled and walked her through the stained-glass doors of what used to be Zander’s dining room. The long table they used in the war room lay littered with Layne’s research, months of her focus, tracking possible sites where the Rugaru and the leaders of the Red Metal Rebellion were hiding.
Her tenacity inspired him.
She’d ensure her nephew’s death was avenged—and soon. With them on the streets patrolling each night, establishing the Otherworld Council, and working on establishing DonorWatch and Queen Hotels as feeding centers for Darkworlders, they didn’t have much energy devoted to tracking the Rugaru.
Layne took that on herself—and she was good.
He pulled up the video feeds from the three night-scope cameras they set up outside three possible locations being used by the rebellion. So far, there wasn’t much beyond the odd in-and-out visitor at any of them. What they were looking for was a noticeable influx of activity. A gathering. Organization.
While she leaned in and watched, he scrolled through the night’s activity. “Nothing tonight, baby. Off to bed.”
“When, Bo? When are we going to get those bastards?”
“Soon. I swear it. Just not tonight.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her off to bed.
The morning after the night before soon devolved into Hark’s frantic race to get Ringo to the garbage bin in time. Jogging side-by-side on the treadmills, down in the gym, the two of them were rocking their daily warm-up before hand-to-hand. Strong pace. Music pumping. He’d just been getting into the zone when he looked over at his little brother and saw his face drain ashen. Now, bent at the waist and clinging to the rim of the industrial-sized trash, the kid’s partying escapades from the night before were making a violent reappearance.
“Damn. That’s nasty,” Ringo said, gagging and spitting.
Hark passed him a workout towel and followed up with a bottle of water. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
Ringo waved off the water and seized up, retching again. “Seriously? You’re throwing Pythagorean Theorem at me?”
“It’s Newton’s third law, and yeah.”
He rolled off the rim of the bin and flopped onto the mats. Sweat beaded on his forehead and pasted his bangs to his face. A shiver racked him, and he let off a moan.
“How bad is it?”
“I feel like ass.”
“Next time, you’ll better understand your limits.”
“I only had . . . Hark?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Hark? I don’t feel . . .” Ringo’s eyes rolled back in his head and he started to seize. His body went stiff as a board, and he began convulsing in violent waves.
“Ringo—shit.” La
unching to the door, he slammed his palm against the emergency call button and boomeranged back to the boy. As the school bell chime sounded, he rolled Ringo onto his side. His limbs flopped and flailed around, his entire body in a state of violent twitching.
Footsteps thundered above.
Male shouts grew louder.
His heart hammered in his chest. “In the gym. Get Drina! We need medical.”
Seth and Zander were the first two to burst through the doors, but the others weren’t far behind them. By the time Drina knelt on the gym mats, Ringo’s eyes were flickering.
“Hey there, handsome,” their pink-haired, Reaper surgeon said, as Ringo’s eyes regained a bit of focus. “Glad to have you back with us.”
Ringo blinked up at them like his gray matter was recalibrating. Hark’s knees all but gave out. Phoenix caught him under the elbow and sat him on one of the weight benches.
“You okay?” Zander said, casting a glance.
Hark waved away the worry. “It’s different, you know? When it’s someone you care about, and you’re standing right there and can’t help them.”
Phoenix squeezed his shoulder and heads nodded.
“Can you tell me what happened, buddy?” Drina asked. Beneath the woman’s rainbow hair colors, there was one helluva keen intellect. They were lucky to have her as part of the team, and not one of them ever forgot it. “Ringo? You with me, son?” She snapped her fingers beside his face and smiled. “Can you run me through it?”
He struggled to sit and immediately, a dozen strong hands helped him get situated. “I was puking. Hark was talking. The room sorta rose up and spun around me . . .”
Seth handed him the water bottle, and this time, he took it and had a sip. “I felt bad—really bad—and got sucked under.”
“What does that mean?” Zander asked.
Drina shrugged. “It’s too early to say. Maybe the changes to his body are coming too rapidly with his transition in play. Maybe it’s a one-off. Maybe something is happening we don’t know about. I have to run tests. Can someone help me get him to the clinic?”