Lover Reborn

Down the hall, Tohr sat in a chair across from the hospital bed Wrath had been laid out in. It was probably time to go.

Had been a while ago.

For God’s sake, even the queen had fallen asleep next to her mate on the bed.

Guess it was a good thing Beth didn’t mind his kibitzing. Then again, they had come to an accord years ago, proving just what a Godzilla marathon would do for a relationship.

Over in the corner, on a huge round Orvis bed the color of oatmeal, George stretched out of the curl he’d been in and glanced up at his master. Getting no response, he put his head down and sighed.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Tohr said.

The dog’s ears pricked and he gave two thumps of his feathered tail.

“Yup. I promise.”

Taking a cue from the canine, Tohr repositioned himself, and then rubbed his eyes. Man, he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was dog-bed it like George and sleep for a day.

The problem was, even though the drama was over, his adrenal gland still piped up every time he thought of that bullet. Two inches to the right and it would have hit the jugular, turning Wrath’s light out for good. In fact, according to Doc Jane and Manny, where that lead had been lodged by pure chance had been the only “safe” place—assuming the guy was with someone who could, oh, say, do a tracheotomy in a moving van with nothing but a section of hollow tubing and a black dagger.

Jesus Christ… what a night.

And thank the Scribe Virgin for that angel. Without Lassiter showing up to drive? He shuddered—

“Waiting for Godot?”

Tohr’s eyes snapped over to the bed. The king’s lids were low but open, his mouth cracked in a half smile.

Emotion came on thick and quick, flooding Tohr’s neurotransmitters, stealing his voice from him.

And Wrath seemed to understand. Opening his free hand, he beckoned, even though he couldn’t lift up his arm.

Tohr’s feet felt sloppy as he stood up and approached the bed. As soon as he was in range, he knelt by his king and took that big palm, turned it over… and kissed the gigantic black diamond that flashed on Wrath’s finger.

Then, like a pussy, he laid his head down on the ring, on his brother’s knuckles.

All could have been lost tonight. If Wrath had not lived… everything would have changed.

As the king squeezed his hand back, Tohr thought about Wellsie’s dying, and felt nothing but fresh dread. To realize that there were as yet others to lose was not reassuring in the slightest. If anything, it made the churning, ambient anxiety in his gut swirl faster.

You’d think after his shellan’s passing he’d be exempt from the grief pool.

Instead, it appeared that he just had a deeper bottom to look forward to.

“Thank you,” Wrath whispered hoarsely. “For saving my life.”

Tohr lifted his head and shook it. “It wasn’t just me.”

“It was a lot you. I owe you, brother mine.”

“You’d have done the same.”

That patented autocratic tone came out: “I. Owe. You.”

“So buy me a Sam some night and we’ll call it evens.”

“You’re saying my life is only worth six bucks?”

“You vastly underestimate how much I love a good longneck—” A big blond dog head shoved its way under his armpit. Glancing down, he said, “See? I told you he’d be all right.”

Wrath laughed a little, then grimaced as if things hurt. “Hey, big man…”

Tohr moved out of the way so master and canine could reconnect… then ended up scooping the ninety- pound bale of hay-colored fur up and settling it next to the king.

Wrath positively beamed as he looked back and forth between his shellan, who was asleep, and his animal, who was ready to be his nurse.

“I’m glad that’s our last meeting,” Tohr blurted.

“Yeah, I like to go out with a bang—”

“I can’t let you do shit like this anymore. You realize that, don’t you.” Tohr stared down at the king’s forearms, tracing those ritualistic tattoos that spelled out his lineage. “You need to be alive at the end of every night, my lord. The rules are different for you.”

“Look, I’ve been shot at before—”

“And it’s not happening again. Not on my watch.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You going to chain me in the basement?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Wrath’s brows dropped low, and his voice grew stronger. “You can be a real prick, you know that.”

“It’s not a matter of personality. And it’s obvious or you wouldn’t be getting your panties in a wad.”

“I’m not wearing any.” The king cracked another smile. “I’m naked under here.”

“Thanks for that picture.”

“You know, technically you can’t order me to do shit.”

Wrath was right; you didn’t tell the leader of the race a good goddamn thing. But as Tohr met the male’s blind eyes, he wasn’t talking to the ruler of them all; he was talking to his brother.

“Until Xcor is neutralized, we’re not taking any risks with you—”

“If there’s a Council meeting, I’m going. Period.”

“There won’t be. Not unless we want there to be—and right now? Nobody needs you anywhere but here.”

“Fucking hell! I’m the king—” As Beth frowned in her sleep, he calmed his voice out. “Can we talk about this later?”

“No reason to. We’re done on the subject—and every one of the brothers is behind me on this.”

Tohr did not look away as he got hit with a glare that, in spite of those eyes being blind, was strong enough to burn a hole in the back of his skull.

“Wrath,” he said roughly, “look at what’s next to you. Do you want to leave her on her own? You want her to have to mourn you? Fuck all of us—what about your Beth?”

It was a low-down dirty to play the shellan card, but any weapon in a fight.…

Wrath cursed and closed his eyes.

And Tohr knew he’d won when the male turned his face into Beth’s hair and breathed in deeply, as if he were smelling her shampoo.

“Are we in accord,” Tohr demanded.

“Fuck you,” the king murmured against his beloved.

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled.”

After a moment, Wrath looked over again. “Did they get the bullet out of my neck?”

“They did. All we need is the rifle that goes with it.” Tohr gave George’s boxy head a stroking. “And it’s got to be the Band of Bastards’—Xcor’s the only one who would try something like that.”

“We need to find where they live.”

“They’re cagey. Smart. It’s going to take a miracle.”

“Then start praying, my brother. Start praying.”

Tohr replayed the attack in his mind yet again. The brazenness was off the chain—and suggested Xcor was capable of just about anything.

“I’m going to kill him,” he said in a low voice.

“Xcor?” When he nodded, Wrath said, “I think you’re going to have to get in line for the job—assuming we can tie him to the shooter. The good news is that as head of the B.o.B., he can be held accountable for his fighters’ actions—so as long as one of his soldiers was at the trigger of that rifle, we can nail him.”

As Tohr thought shit over, that grinding in his gut tightened to an unbearable level. “You said you owed me a favor—well, this is what I want. I want Xcor’s death to be at my hands and no one else’s.”

“Tohr…” When he just stared straight ahead, Wrath shrugged. “I can’t give him to you until we have