Lover Reborn

FORTY

Tohr’s first impression of their host was that Assail hadn’t changed at all. He was still big enough to be a Brother, with hair so dark he made V seem like a blond. And his clothes were, as always, formal and perfectly tailored. He was also as cagey as ever, his stare shrewd and hooded… seeing too much, capable of too much.

Another fine addition to the continent.

Not.

The aristocrat smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s Wrath in the middle of all those bodies?”

“Show some fucking respect,” V snapped.

“Compliments are the condiment of conversation.” Assail turned away, leaving them to come through the jambs by themselves. “They just get in the way—”

Wrath dematerialized right in the guy’s path, moving so fast they met chest-to-chest.

Baring fangs long as daggers, the king growled low. “Watch your mouth, son. Or I’ll make it impossible for you to throw any more bullshit around.”

Assail stepped back, his eyes narrowing like he was reading Wrath’s vital statistics. “You’re not like your father.”

“Neither are you. Unfortunately.”

As V shut the door, Assail went for his inside pocket—and immediately had four gun muzzles pointed at his head. As he froze, his eyes went from weapon to weapon.

“I was getting out a cigar.”

“I’d do it slowly if I were you,” Wrath murmured. “My boys wouldn’t mind dropping you where you stand.”

“Good thing we’re not in my living room. I love that rug.” He glanced over at V. “You sure you want to do this here in the mudroom?”

“Yeah, bitch, I am,” Vishous ground out.

“Window phobia?”

“You were about to light up,” Wrath said. “Or get lit up. How about we solve that one first and then talk about your sieve of a house.”

“I like the view.”

“Which could be me standing over your grave,” V announced as he nodded at the guy’s disappeared hand.

Cocking a brow, Assail pulled out a long Cuban, and made a point to show it to everybody. Then he went into a side pocket, took out a gold snipper, and held it up to his well-armed peanut gallery.

“Anyone care to join me? No?” He clipped the end off and lit up, seemingly unconcerned that his head was still in the crosshairs.

After a couple of puffs, he said, “So I want to know something.”

“Don’t give me an opening like that,” V muttered.

“Is that why you finally called me?” Wrath asked.

“Yes, it is.” The vampire rolled his cigar back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have any intention of altering the laws concerning commerce with humans?”

Leaning to the side, Tohr did a flash scan of what he could see of the rest of the house—which wasn’t much: modern kitchen, a hint of the dining room, a living room out the far side. Finding no one moving through the empty rooms, he refocused.

“No,” Wrath said. “Provided the business stays under the radar, you can do what you want. What kind of commerce are you in.”

“Retail.”

“Of what?”

“Does it matter.”

“If you’re not answering, I’m going to assume drugs or women.” Wrath frowned when there was no reply. “So which one is it.”

“Women are too much trouble.”

“That drug shit is tough to keep under the radar.”

“Not the way I take care of things.”

V piped up. “So you’re the reason middlemen have been capping themselves in alleys.”

“No comment.”

Wrath frowned again. “Why bring this up now?”

“Let’s just say I’ve run into one too many interested parties.”

“Be more specific.”

“Well, one of them’s about six feet tall. Brush-cut dark hair. Name rhymes with sex, and her body’s built for it.”

Oh, no, you didn’t, Tohr thought—

The hiss that came out of John brought everyone’s head around. And what do you know, the guy’s eyes were trained on Assail as if, at least in his mind, he was already ripping the male’s throat out.

“I beg your pardon,” Assail drawled. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with her in some manner.”

Tohr growled on behalf of his son—even though they were estranged. “He’s a fuck of a lot more than just acquainted. So you can blow that speculation out your ass—and while you’re at it, stay away from her.”

“She was the one who came to me.”

Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat. That went over like a lead balloon—

Before shit got out of hand, Wrath held up his palm. “I don’t give a fuck what you do with humans—provided you clean up any messes. But if you get tagged, you’re on your own.”

“What about our species interfering with my commerce.”

Wrath smiled a little, his cruel face showing absolutely no humor. “Having trouble defending your territory already? Guess what. You can’t have what you can’t keep.”

Assail inclined his head. “Fair enough—”

The shattering of glass sounded out behind them all, cutting through everything, crushing time down to a crawl: gunfire.

With a mighty lunge, Tohr went airborne, his massive body flying over the Spanish tile, his target: Wrath.

As a rat-tat-tat-tat-tat spray of bullets hit the back of the house, he tackled the king to the floor, covering his brother with as much of his body as possible. Everyone else, including Assail, likewise hit the ground and shuffled for cover against various walls.

“My lord, are you hit?” Tohr hissed in Wrath’s ear as he hit send on the text alarm.

“Maybe the neck,” came a groaned response.

“Lie still.”

“You’re all over me. Exactly where do you think I’m going.”

Tohr twisted his head around to eyeball where everybody was. V was all about Assail, his hand locked on the guy’s throat, his weapon tight on their host’s temple. And Qhuinn and John were back-flatted on either side of where they’d come in, covering the outside as well as the entryway into the kitchen.

The cold breeze coming through the broken windowpane in the door did not provide any particular scent, and that proved who it was: Slayers would have stunk up the place given that both the prevailing wind and the shot came from the north.

It was Xcor and his Band of Bastards.

But come on, like they didn’t know that already. That single shot had to have come from a rifle, and had to