The King

FIFTY

Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, John Matthew could feel a seizure threatening to break through.

As his sister continued to speak, and he felt his head nod, he retreated into that place where the epilepsy was birthed, some kind of tangle of electrical impulses threatening to take over everything—except he was done with that shit. Just as the hum started to rise, he cut it off by force of will.

Not. Gonna. Do. It—

Unbelievable to be channeling Dana Carvey from SNL. But there you go.

Plus it worked. Not right away, but gradually, that sizzle and burn started to fade, its lights-out crescendo receding.

“So … will you?” Beth asked, her eyes wide. “It’s, like, in an hour. Lassiter needs that much time to get ready.”

Refocusing, he strung together some semblance of what she’d been talking about, his brain linking the nouns and verbs until …

Oh, my God, he thought.

Man, for once, he was glad he was mute. Because if he’d had to speak, she’d know he was in some strange place emotionally. As it was, his hands were steadier than his voice would have been.

Something about her request was getting to him big-time.

It would be an honor, he signed.

Before he could drop his arms, his sister pitched herself at him, hugging him so tightly she nearly snapped his head off. And as he closed his eyes and held her in return, time stopped—

A vision struck from out of nowhere. One minute, he was standing outside his and Xhex’s bedroom. The next?

All he could see was tears … except, no, it was rain. Rain on the windshield of a car—a car he’d loved. And then he was reaching forward for the ignition and—

Beth pulled back and he watched from a vast distance as her mouth moved and she told him more things. He nodded in the right places, but as soon as she left and he shut the door, all that part of it was gone.

Leaning his forehead on the panels, he had no idea why his eyes were watering up—or why his chest had swollen with such pride and happiness.

“You okay?” Xhex whispered from behind him.

Turning into the darkness, he nodded—and then realized she couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But I have to ask out loud sometimes.”

There was a click as she turned on the lamp by her side of the bed. Blinking in the illumination, he took a swipe of his face, making like he was just, you know, rubbing it or some shit. But she was a symphath—so where he was at was as clear to her as a billboard.

I don’t get it, he signed. Why am I so fucked in the head about her?

His mate’s gunmetal-gray eyes locked on him, and he did nothing to avoid that laser stare: If he wanted more information on all this, she was his best bet.

“Your grid has that shadow,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen one like it. It’s as if—I don’t know, you’re parallel-processing life? Or that…”

What, he demanded.

“There are two of you in there.”

That’s how it feels. He rubbed his already messy hair. Especially around her.

“She is your sister.”

But there was more than that to it, he thought. Not romantically or anything. Still …

“Come on,” Xhex said as she got out of bed. “We need to get ready. Goddamn brilliant idea of hers.”

As his female walked up to him naked, her tight, muscular body had a way of clarifying things—suddenly he had sex on the brain and what a relief. At least that he could do something about.

“Let me help you in the shower,” she said, reaching in between the folds of his robe and finding his hard cock. “You should be very, very clean for this.”

John was more than happy to be led by the dumb handle into the bathroom, and when they emerged forty-five minutes later, he was more relaxed—and clean as a motherfucking whistle.

“Yes, the tux,” his female said as he stood in front of their closet, staring at the stuff hanging from the rods. “No question.”

Nodding, he went for the starched white shirt, popping it off its hanger and pulling it onto his shoulders. Xhex had to do up the buttons—for some reason his hands were jumping all around now like he was nervous. He got the slacks on just fine, though—not the suspenders, however. She had to take care of them. And forget about the cummerbund and the bow tie—he just stood there like a dairy cow as she made quick work of it all.

The nice thing was that he got to stare at her.

“Now the jacket.” She held the thing out for him like she was the man, guiding the fine wool into place on his back, then turning him around and smoothing the lapels. “Damn…”

What? he signed.

Her stare was gleaming as she pulled a head-to-toe on him. “You make that look hot as hell.”

John puffed his pecs, going all robin-breasted. Hard not to when your female was eating you up with her eyes like that.

And you’re still naked. He smiled. Your birthday suit is my favorite.

Except she wasn’t completely unadorned. Reaching out, he touched the necklace he’d given to her, the one with the big square-cut diamond in the center.

Xhex wasn’t normally down for the sap, but she covered his hand with hers and brought his palm to her mouth. Kissing it, she murmured, “I know. I love you, too. Forever.”

He leaned into her and brushed his lips against hers.

A couple minutes later they headed out, with her dressed in slacks and a black silk shirt. Which, next to the aforementioned birthday suit, was a pretty fine little outfit. Especially because for once, she’d put her feet into a spectacular pair of fuck-me pumps.

Something he planned to follow through on whenever they could catch a minute alone.

Other people were coming out of bedroom doors: Blay and Qhuinn, also in suits. Z and Bella, with little Nalla dressed in yet another pink confection of silk and tulle … which made her pretty much the most adorable thing he’d seen.

And he didn’t even like kids.

As the group walked down the hall of statues and hit the stairs, there wasn’t a lot of talking. Hadn’t been since Rehv had put that proclamation on the dining room table. Wasn’t going to be for a while.

This was going to help, however.

Down below in the foyer, still more from the household had gathered, but not Wrath or Beth yet, and John joined the crowd—which again was very quiet. Hell, even Rhage put the kibosh on his usual antics—although with that mouthy fallen angel yet to show—

“What the fuck is that?”

At the sound of V’s voice, John turned with the rest of them … and when he saw what was up at the head of the grand staircase, he blinked once. Twice. Twelve times.

Lassiter was standing at the top of the carpeted steps, his blond-and-black hair styled in a pompadour, a heavy Bible under his armpit, piercings catching the light …

But none of that was the real shocker.

The fallen angel was dressed in a sparkling white Elvis costume. Complete with bell-bottoms, balloon sleeves, and lapels big enough to tent up the backyard. Oh, and rainbow wings that revealed themselves as he held his arms out, preacher style.

“Time to get the party started,” he said as he jogged down, sequins winking and flashing. “And where the hell’s my pulpit?”

V coughed out the smoke he’d just inhaled. “She’s having you do the service?”

The angel popped his already mile-high collar. “She said she wanted the holiest thing in the house to do it.”

“She got holey, all right,” somebody muttered.

“Is that Butch’s Bible?” V asked.

The angel flashed the goods. “Yup. And his BoC, he called it? I also got a sermon I did myself.”

“Saints preserve us,” came from the opposite side of the crowd.

“Wait, wait, wait.” V waved his hand-rolled around. “I’m the son of a deity and she picked you?”

“You can call me Pastor—and before Mr. Sox Fan gets his panties in a wad, I want everyone to know I’m legit. I went online, took a minister’s course in under an hour, and I’m ordained, baby.”

Rhage raised his hand. “Pastor Ass-hat, I have a question.”

“Yes, my son, you are going to hell.” Lassiter made the sign of the cross and then looked around. “So where’s our bride? The groom? I’m ready to marry somebody.”

“I didn’t bring enough tobacco for this,” V bitched.

Rhage sighed. “There’s Goose in the bar, my brother—oh, wait. We don’t have a bar anymore.”

“I think I’ll just run an IV of morphine.”

“Can I put it in?” Lassiter asked.

“That’s what she said,” somebody shot back—

“Oh … wow. That’s, ah, quite a getup.”

Everybody looked over their shoulders as Beth spoke up. She was coming in from the library, Saxton beside her, Rehv behind them. The latter had a parchment rolled up under his arm, and a bemused expression on his face.

“I know, right?” Lassiter said, pulling a pirouette, that cape thing splaying out.

Not that John Matthew paid any attention to the male. Or anybody else.

Without conscious thought, he walked forward toward his sister. She was wearing a simple white sheath dress, one that covered her shoulders and went below her knees. And as he came closer, he recognized it as something he’d seen the Chosen in the house wear when they wanted to be comfortable. Unlike them, however, her hair was loose and spilling down her back in black waves.

She looked innocent. And lovely. And perfect.

You are beautiful, he signed.

“Oh, thanks.” She flounced the dress. “Layla lent this to me. So are you ready to walk me down the aisle?”

It was a long time before John could make his hands work right. And as he signed his reply, he thought that for all the bullshit the glymera was throwing out, and the stress in the household, and the sadness over Wrath … this was something he felt as though he had waited a lifetime for. Something that he had crossed a vast distance to do. Some kind of goal that he’d wanted to meet while not being aware it was out there.

Yes, I am, he signed with pride.

Beth had never loved her brother more. As John Matthew stepped in beside her, she could sense his quiet strength resonating out to her—and she needed it.

Even though she had arranged everything, she had no idea how Wrath was going to react to this.

Glancing around her brother’s big shoulders, she popped her brows again at Lassiter. At least her hellren would be spared the sight of the angel in that rig.

“You love it, right?” Lassiter asked, holding his Bible high. “I mean, you told me to go onto the Internet. I did. I even printed out my diploma or whatever the hell it’s called.”

Opening the cover of the King James version, he took out a piece of paper and wave it around. “See? Nice and legal-like.”

Beth leaned in. “Wow.”

“I know, right? Just like Harvard.”

“Impressive.”

“I’m totally framing that shit, wha-what.” He put the thing away. “And after I was done, I researched human weddings. I knew I was going to need some ceremonial robes, and these were the ones I liked best. I found them at Gould’s Costumes and More—boom! I’m nothing but a hound dog.”

Beth rubbed her temples. Vishous. She should have asked Vishous to do this. “How’d you manage the hair?”

“Aqua Net. Hairpins. Cosmo December issue—for the holidays. Again, thank you, Internet.”

Rhage shook his head. “Do you have balls? Or are angels born sac-less?”

Lassiter smiled slyly. “I do all right. Back in the Old Country, I used to chime noon and midnight.”

Really, really, really should have asked Vishous. “Well, I appreciate everything you—”

As everyone went silent, she looked up to the head of the stairs. Wrath had appeared and was standing tall and proud, George by his side. Unlike John, he wasn’t in a tux, but he had put on a certain suit she remembered.

It was the one he’d worn on their first official “date” at Darius’.

“What’s the crowd for?” he said.

“Just come on down,” she replied.

As he started his descent, her palms went sweaty—and then an instant later, the mother of all hot flashes hit, the heat searing through her.

Man, she couldn’t wait until she was either pregnant or fully over the needing. Her inner microwave was driving her crazy.

As Wrath’s only pair of non-shitkickers hit the mosaic floor, she thought that he couldn’t have looked more magnificent. His hair was fanned all over his massive shoulders, the ends coming down to his hips, and with that tie at his neck … he looked like a powerful businessman. Who could kill if he were so inclined.

And didn’t that get the hormones cranking.

“What are we doing here, Beth,” he demanded.

“We’re getting married.”

As he recoiled, she rushed in before he could go on any kind of tirade. “You said my human customs matter—that they’re equally important. So we’re getting married. Right now. In my way.”

He shook his head. “But we’re already mated. Why—”

“So you can divorce me and keep the throne.” As his jaw dropped, she cut him off. “In front of our family here. With a real live minister.”

Lassiter raised his hand. “Happy to be of service. I also do christenings. Just sayin’.”

Wrath shook his head again. “This is—”

“Are you saying my human side is of lesser value?”

“Well, no. But—”

“So then if we do the ceremony here and now, we haven’t lost anything, have we. You can divorce me according to vampire law, we’re still mated, and we’ve managed to keep the throne.” She kicked up her chin even though he couldn’t see her. “Pretty good math, don’t you think?”

There was a beat of hushed silence. And then one of the Brothers said, “I fucking love this female. I really totally fucking love her.”