Feed?
Qhuinn didn’t appreciate being out of the loop, even when it came to little shit like what was being served for dinner. Saxton, the mansion, Blay, and someone’s vein? Yeah, not knowing what was doing with the likes of all that made the tips of his fangs tingle.
Saxton bowed once again. “Indeed, you are a very kind host.”
“Fritz, get the male some chow. The Chosen should be arriving very soon.”
A Chosen’s vein?
Christ, what exactly had Saxton done for the king? Whose ass had he saved?
“And our physician will see you.” Wrath held his palm up. “Nope. I smell the pain you’re feeling—it’s a combo of kerosene and raw peppers in my sinuses. Now get moving. Take care of yourself and we’ll talk later.”
As Wrath and George did a wheel-around up on the balcony, Qhuinn fell into the wake of Fritz’s hospitality, walking behind the butler as the guy led a slow ascension of the grand staircase. At the top, the elderly
With nothing to do but wait as well, Qhuinn popped open the aspirin and took a handful, noting that through the open doors of the king’s study, John and Xhex were talking to V and Wrath, the four of them standing over a map that was stretched flat on the desk.
“This is a spectacular manse,” Saxton said while he stopped to regain his breath. Leaning on Blay’s strength, he fit under the guy’s arm... fucking perfectly.
The miserable bastard.
“My master, Darius, built it.” Fritz’s ancient watery eyes drifted around before focusing on the apple tree that was depicted in mosaic tile down below. “He had always wanted the Brotherhood herein... had constructed the facility for their every purpose. He would be so pleased.”
“Let us continue then,” Saxton said. “I am eager to see more.”
Down the hall of statues. Past Tohr’s room. Past Qhuinn’s and John Matthew’s. Past Blay’s... and right next door.
Why not farther down, Qhuinn thought. Like in the basement.
“I shall bring you a tray of various and sundry.” Fritz went inside and double-checked that everything was in order. “Dial star-one if you should need anything before I return or at any other time.”
With a bow, the butler took off, leaving a whole lot of awkward behind. Which didn’t smooth out in the slightest as Blay took Saxton over to the bed and helped the male get horizontal.
SOB was in a gorgeous gray suit. With a waistcoat. Which made Qhuinn in his clothes-as-sleeping-bag feel like he was dressed in some of Hefty’s best.
Standing a little taller, so at least he clearly beat Sax on the vertical front, he said, “It was those guys at the cigar bar. Those fucking assholes. Wasn’t it.”
As Blay stiffened, Saxton laughed a little. “So our mutual friend Blaylock here told you about our date? I wondered what he was doing on my phone in my bathroom.”
Uh-huh, whatever. Deduction not daytime minutes had led him to that conclusion. Hell, he’d only gotten that one text from the guy. One measely, short text that didn’t offer so much as a hi- how’re-ya—
Holy. Shit. Was he actually bitching about phone etiquette? Was he really chicking out like that?
Um... short of wearing panties under his jeans, he guessed that would be a big yuppity-yup-yup.
Getting back in the game, he snapped, “Was it them?”
When Blay said nothing, Saxton sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid they felt the need to express themselves—well, the head ape in the group did.” The male’s lids lowered and he glanced over at Blay. “And I’m a lover not a fighter, you see.”
Blay hurried to fill the silence after that little bomb. “Selena will be here shortly. You’ll like her.”
Thank God it wasn’t Layla, Qhuinn thought for absolutely no good reason...
The silence that followed had the consistency of tar and the smell of guilty conscience.
“Can I talk to you,” Qhuinn said to Blay abruptly. “Out in the hall.”
Not a request.
As Fritz arrived with the tray, Qhuinn stepped from the room and waited in the corridor, facing off at one of the muscular statues. Which made him think about what Blay looked like naked.
Cracking the thermos lid, he took a swig from his coffee, burned his throat, and drank more anyway.
After Fritz left, Blay emerged and shut the door. “What is it?”
“I can’t believe you brought him here.”
Blay recoiled with a frown. “You’ve seen his face. How could I not? He’s hurt and not healing well and he needs to feed. And Phury would never allow one of his Chosen to just show up in the world somewhere. This is the only safe way to do it.”
“Why didn’t you just find him someone else? It doesn’t have to be a Chosen.”
“Excuse me?” That frown got even deeper. “He’s your
“I’m well aware of the relation.” And of how petty he sounded. “I just don’t get why you pulled all these strings for the guy.”
Bullshit. He knew exactly why.
Blay turned away. “I’m going back in now—”
“Is he your lover.”
That stopped the male dead... just froze him like he was one of the Greek statues, his hand halting on its reach for the doorknob.
Blay glanced over his shoulder, his face hard. “That is none of your business.”
Not a blush in sight, and Qhuinn exhaled slowly in relief. “He isn’t, is he. You haven’t been with him.”
“Leave me alone, Qhuinn. Just... leave me alone.”
As the door shut behind the guy, Qhuinn cursed under his breath and wondered if he would ever be able to do that.
Not anytime soon, a voice said in his head. Maybe not ever.
FIFTY-THREE
Lash woke up with his face in the dirt and someone going through his pockets. As he tried to turn over, something hard cupped the back of his skull and held him in place.
A palm. A human palm.
“Get the car keys!” somebody hissed from the left.
There were two of them. A pair of humans, both of whom smelled like crack smoke and old sweat.
Just as the rummaging hand went to the other side of him, Lash caught the man’s wrist and, with a twist and a jump, traded places with the looting bastard.
As the guy went fish-mouth in shock, Lash bared his fangs and swept down from above, catching the ruddy skin of a cheek and ripping it free of the bone. A quick spit and he ripped the cocksucker’s throat wide-open.
Yelling. Serious yelling from the guy who’d given the order about the keys—
Which was quickly extinguished as Lash withdrew his knife and pitched it at the running back of Mr. Grand Theft Auto, catching the fucker right between the shoulder blades. As the son of a bitch yard-saled into the dirt, Lash curled up a fist and punched the temple of the man who’d mounted him.
With the threat now neutralized, Lash went wobbly again, his body falling to the side as he briefly considered another round of throwing up. Not a great condition to be in—especially as the human he’d nailed on the fly began to grunt and claw at the ground like he was determined to get away.
Lash forced himself to his feet and shuffled over. Standing above the crackhead, he braced a foot on the guy’s ass and yanked his knife out of that back. Then he kicked his target over and lifted his arm—
He was about to do the plunge-into-the-chest thing when he realized the bastard was built strong, his frame packed with muscle. Given his wild eyes, he was clearly into the pipe, but he was young enough so that the ravages of the addiction had yet to eat away at his body mass.
