The angel came back over, leaned down right into Tohr’s face, and said with clear diction, “Listen up, sunshine. Your shellan, Wellsie, sent me. That’s why I didn’t leave you to die.”
Tohr’s heart stopped in his chest just as the angel looked up and said, “What took you so long.”
Wrath’s voice was annoyed as his shitkickers thundered down toward the altar. “Well, next time tell someone where the fuck you are-”
“What did you say,” Tohr breathed.
Lassiter was utterly unapologetic as he refocused. “That wall isn’t what you need to be looking at. Try a calendar. One year ago your Wellsie was shot in the face by the enemy. Wake the fuck up and do something about it.”
Wrath cursed. “Easy, there, Lassi-”
Tohrment lunged off the cave floor with something close to the old strength he’d once had, and he hit Lassiter like a linebacker in spite of the weight difference, taking the angel down hard onto the stone floor. Wrapping his hands around the guy’s throat, he stared down into white eyes and squeezed, baring his fangs.
Lassiter just stared right back and thought his voice directly into Tohr’s temporal lobe: What are you going to do, asshole? Are you going to avenge her, or disrespect her by wasting away like this?
Wrath’s huge hand clamped on Tohr’s shoulder like a lion’s claw, digging in, pulling back. “Let go.”
“Don’t…” Tohr’s breath came in punches. “Don’t…ever…”
“Enough,” Wrath spat.
Tohr was whipped backward onto his ass, and as he bounced like a stick dropped on the ground, he came out of the murder trance. Came awake, too.
He didn’t know how else to describe it. It was as if some switch had been triggered and his bank of lights, which had been extinguished, suddenly went live with juice again.
Wrath’s face came into view, and Tohr saw it with a clarity he hadn’t had in…forever. “You okay, there?” his brother said. “You landed hard.”
Tohr reached out and ran his hands over Wrath’s heavy arms, trying to get a feel of reality. He glanced over at Lassiter, then stared at the king. “I’m sorry…about that.”
“Are you kidding me? We’ve all wanted to strangle him.”
“You know, I’m gonna get a complex over here,” Lassiter coughed out as he caught his breath.
Tohr gripped his king’s shoulders. “No one’s said anything about her,” he groaned. “No one’s said her name, no one’s talked about…what happened.”
Wrath held on to the back of Tohr’s neck and supported him. “Out of respect for you.”
Tohr’s eyes went to the skull on the altar and then to the etched wall. The angel had been right. There was only one name that could wake him up, and it wasn’t inscribed up there.
Wellsie.
“How did you know where we were,” he asked his king, still focused on the wall.
“Sometimes people need to go back to the beginning. To where everything started.”
“It’s time,” the fallen angel said softly.
Tohr stared down at himself, at the withered body beneath his sagging clothes. He was a quarter of the male he’d once been, maybe even less. And that wasn’t just because of all the weight he’d lost. “Oh, Christ…look at me.”
Wrath’s response was front and center. “If you’re ready, we’re ready to have you back.”
Tohr looked over at the angel, noticing for the first time the golden aura that surrounded the guy. Heaven-sent. Wellsie-sent.
“I’m ready,” he said to no one and everyone.
As Rehv stared across the table at Ehlena, he thought, Well, at least she wasn’t beelining for the exit after he’d dropped the i-bomb.
Impotent wasn’t a word you wanted to use around a female you were interested in. Unless it was used along the lines of, Fuck, no, I’m NOT impotent.
Ehlena sat back down. “You’re…is it because of the medication?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes skirted away, as if she were adding figures in her head, and the first thought that hit him was, My tongue still works and so do my fingers.
He kept that to himself. “Dopamine has an odd effect with me. Instead of stimulating testosterone, it drains the shit out of me.”
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “This is totally inappropriate, but considering how male you are, without it-”
“I’d be able to make love to you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I’d be like.”
Her eyes shot to his, all holy-shit-did-he-just-say-that?
Rehv brushed a hand over his mohawk. “I’m not going to apologize for the fact that I’m feeling you, but I won’t disrespect you by trying to do anything about it either. You want some coffee? It’s already made.”
“Ah…sure.” Like she was hoping it would clear her head. “Listen…”
He paused in the midst of standing up. “Yeah?”
“I…ah…”
When she didn’t continue, he shrugged. “Just let me bring you coffee. I want to wait on you. Makes me happy.”
Fuck happy. As he headed back into the kitchen, a screaming satisfaction broke through his numbness. The fact that he was feeding her food he had prepared for her, giving her drink to relieve her thirst, providing shelter from the cold…
Rehv’s nose picked up an odd scent, and at first he thought it was the roast he’d left out, because he’d rubbed the outside of the piece of meat with spices. But no…it wasn’t that.
Figuring he had other things to worry about rather than his nose, he went over to the cabinets and got a teacup and saucer. After he poured the coffee, he went to straighten the lapels of his jacket-
And froze.
Lifting his hand to his nose, he breathed in deep and didn’t believe what he was smelling. It couldn’t possibly…
Except there was only one thing that the scent could be, and it had nothing to do with his symphath side: The dark spices coming off of him were the bonding scent, the mark that male vampires left on the skin and sex of their females so that other males would know whose wrath they risked if they dared to get close.
Rehv lowered his arm and looked toward the butler’s door, stunned.
When you got to a certain age, you didn’t expect any more surprises out of your body. At least, not the good kind. Rickety joints. Wheezy lungs. Bad eyesight. Sure, when the time came. But really, for the nine hundred years or so after your transition, you had what you had.
Although good might not be the exact word he’d use for this development.
For no evident reason, he thought of the first time he’d had sex. It had been right after his transition, and when the deed was done, he’d been convinced that the female and he were going to get mated and live together and be happy for the rest of their lives. She’d been perfectly beautiful, a female who his mother’s brother had brought to the house for Rehv to use when he’d gone into the change.
She’d been a brunette.
Christ, he couldn’t remember her name now.
Looking back on it, with what he’d since learned about males and females and attraction, he knew he’d surprised her with how big his body had been after the change. She hadn’t expected to like what she saw. Hadn’t expected to want him. But she did and they mated and the sex had been a revelation, the feel of all that flesh, the addictive rush, the power he’d had as he’d taken control after the first couple of times.
He’d learned he’d had a barb, then-whereas she’d been so into him, he wasn’t sure she’d noticed that they had to wait a little before he could withdraw from her.
In the aftermath, he’d been so at peace, so content. But there had been no happily-ever-after coming. With the sweat still drying on her body, she’d put on her clothes and hit the door. Just as she’d left, she’d smiled at him sweetly and told him that she wouldn’t charge his family for the sex.
