The King

FIFTY-THREE

In the end, Wrath signed the goddamn dissolution proclamation.

His mother’s ring on his pinkie finger was what made up his mind: That ruby was a symbol of Beth’s solemn vow to him and it made him think about everything his female had done for him. In order to mate him, she’d put her faith, her heart, her future in him and his people, traditions, customs—turning away from her human side entirely, to the point where she had no contact with that race anymore, nothing outside him and his brothers, his job taking over both their lives.

She had gained much, sure. But she had lost everything she had ever known. And she’d done it for him, for them.

Right now, the most important thing was not the throne. No, it was living up to the standard she herself had set: He needed to put his signature where his mouth was. Even though he hated this whole fucking thing, from the aristocrats and the Band of Bastards to the sense of loss that came with this piece of cocksucking paper, he had to honor what he’d told his Beth.

Her traditions were just as weighty and important as his own.

If he didn’t do this? He was treating her with the same disrespect the Council had.

And this was the most logical way to circumvent the glymera.

A nice little get-it-up-ya to their machinations.

“Where’s the pen?” he growled.

When Rehv put the thing in his dagger hand, he squeezed Beth’s palm. “Where do I do it?”

“Right here,” she said roughly. “Here.”

He let her lead the pen’s nib to where there must have been a line, and then he scribbled his name.

“What happens now?” he demanded.

Rehv laughed with a nasty edge. “I roll this little missive up and shove it where the sun don’t shine.” There was the rustling of parchment. “They called for the ‘crowning’ to happen at midnight. Fucking shame I have to wait until then. Come on, Saxton, you need some food. You look like you’re ready to collapse.”

Wrath glanced over at the silent, unmoving crowd. “Well. Are you people eating or what.”

As conversation jumped into the silence, like his brothers knew he needed the attention elsewhere, he took Beth’s arm.

“Get us out of here,” he said harshly.

“Roger that.”

With quick efficiency, his shellan led him away from the noise and the food, and when he caught a whiff of burning wood, he guessed she’d taken him over toward the library.

“Lie down, George,” she said as she pulled up short at what he guessed was the doorway. “I know, I know you don’t want to sit out here, but we need a minute.”

Good call, he thought as he dropped his hold and walked forward on his own, his dagger hand stretched out. When he felt the mantel, he wished he could see the banked fire. He wanted to poke something hot and make it sizzle.

A click-click told him she’d shut them in.

“Thank you,” his Beth said.

He turned around. “Back at you.”

“It’s going to be all right.”

“If you’re talking about the Band of Bastards, I wouldn’t be so sure. There’ll be another angle. We’ve bought some time, but not solved the problem.”

Man, the bitterness in his voice was so not him. But this situation had changed him.

Thank God his father was dead—and wasn’t that something he’d never imagined thinking—

From behind him, Beth pressed herself against his body, her hands slipping up to his shoulders and rubbing the tight muscles. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

He had to laugh. “Elvis did do a great job.”

“You know what’s customary for humans to do after they make it official?”

“What?”

As her arms slipped around his waist, she came around, rose up on her tiptoes and kissed the side of his throat. And what do you know, his mood started to improve.

“Consummation,” she murmured. “It’s traditional for the man and wife to seal the deal, if you know what I mean.”

Wrath started to smile, but then he remembered the last time they were together—and the circumstances. “Are you sure you’re ready for that after … well, you know.”

“Very sure.”

To prove the point, she rubbed herself against him, and he had to curse. Instantly starved, he nonetheless reeled that wild side in as he dropped his head and took his wife’s mouth.

“Pick me up,” she said on a sigh.

As he complied, she pulled the dress she was wearing to her waist, her legs splitting to go around his hips.

“You’re not wearing any panties,” he groaned.

“I wanted to be prepared for this.”

“Jesus, I’m glad I didn’t know—I would have…”

He didn’t bother finishing that one. Instead, as she tightened a hold around his neck, he reached in between them and unbuttoned his slacks. Instantly, his cock sprang free, throbbing and hot, and as he settled her a little lower, he found her core—

“Shit! What if you’re pregnant?” he blurted, shoving her back. “Fuck—”

“Pregnant women have sex. Really. They do.”

Stretching up, she sucked in his lower lip and then nipped it with her fangs. “Unless you’re saying you don’t want me?”

He weaved in his shitkickers. “So not the case.”

He solved any confusion there by entering her slowly, pressing in, finding home in a gentle way. She didn’t seem to hurt any, but he wasn’t taking chances as his palms cupped her ass and he began to move her up and down on him.

“I love you,” he said into her hair. “Forever.”

As she murmured it back into his ear, a shaft of paranoia drained some of the heat out of his body.

Had his father said the same thing to his mother?

And he knew how that had ended.

From out of nowhere, V’s warning came to him, about the field of white and the future in his hands. What did—

“Wrath,” his wife whispered. “Come back to me. Focus on me here and now…”

With a groan of submission, he let all the bullshit go, doing as she’d commanded, feeling and knowing only the sensation of him pumping in and out of her. The orgasm was a quiet one, a wave that approached and retreated with all the thunder of a summer breeze. But as he came inside his female and felt her contract around him, it seemed more powerful than all the ones that had rocked his balls.

He did not want to let her go.

Ever.

Outside of Selena’s bedroom, Trez accepted the call—but didn’t get a “hello” in.

“Where the fuck are you,” the queen’s executioner bit out. “And where is what you promised me.”

Trez squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m on my way.”

“Don’t you fuck with me.”

The connection was cut.

“Trez?” Selena asked from inside the room. “Is everything all right?”

Nope. Not in the slightest.

How was it noon already?

He pushed the door wide. “Yeah. But I gotta go.”

Cursing under his breath, he went directly to his pants and yanked them on—and when his balls got caught in the zipper, he deliberately pulled up harder, the pain shooting through his pelvis and making him sick.

That little phone call from s’Ex was a reminder of all the reasons it had been a dumb-ass idea to come up here.

Virgin.

Fuck.

As he grabbed his shirt and stuffed an arm through a sleeve, he was acutely aware of Selena sitting silently on the bed.

Virgin.

Right on cue, all those women he’d fucked came back to him in a rush, once again crowding the space between them. And then he had a happy thought about the ones he was providing s’Ex today.

“That’s not happening again,” he said, motioning to the bed, to her.

Once was already too much.

In response, Selena’s face gave nothing away, but her scent said it all: The sadness came out of her very pores.

And yet she met him in the eye. “As you wish. But I shall be here if you change your mind.”

Man, she was nothing but self-possession as she stared him down, almost challenging him to stay away.

His self-control was not that good. But the situation he was in was that bad.

iAm was already at risk. If Selena were involved with him?

He didn’t want her falling into his Hell.

Oh, and as for Phury? He felt like shit saying nothing to the Primale. Just another way he’d dishonored her—but nothing good could come of a reveal like that.

“I have to go,” he muttered.

“As you wish.”

He reaaaaallly wanted her to stop saying that.

Trez all but stumbled from the room, and he didn’t remember anything of the trip down the stairs, through the dark house, and out into the bright, snowy side yard. Closing his eyes, it was a while before he could focus and concentrate enough to dematerialize …

… but he eventually made it to the Commodore, re-forming behind the rear service entrance’s Dumpster. Stepping out from it, the deliverymen who were unloading commercial cleaning supplies into the holding area ignored him, and so did the bike messenger who was streaking down the back alley.

But there were plenty of people waiting for him up on the eighteenth floor.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he cursed under his breath.

iAm was leaning up against the closed door, all casual except for the murder in his eyes. And with him? The whores Trez had arranged for s’Ex.

The queen’s executioner was undoubtedly on the terrace outside. Or prowling around the inner rooms after having broken in, in a rage.

Trez shoved his hands in his pockets—no keys. Fuck.

Did he forget them? Or were they on the floor of Selena’s bedroom?

Goddamn it.

“Missing something?” his brother drawled.

“Hey, boss,” one of the prostitutes said.

“Boss—”

“What’s up—”

The women spoke over themselves as they pumped their extensions and rearranged their bra cups. They were each wearing some version of keep-it-legal, but everything was short and tight and low-cut.

Not that they were going to stay clothed for long.

“Allow me,” iAm muttered, taking out his copper key.

After doing the deed with the lock, he swung the door wide and nodded for the girls to go inside.

As they shimmied in, the male narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking care of business,” Trez hissed back. “The only way I know how.”

Pushing past his brother, he strode into the living room. And just like the wraith he was, the executioner was waiting on the far side of the glass, his black robes wafting in the cold wind.

As the three prostitutes noticed him, they froze, either spellbound or scared shitless. Maybe both.

“Give me a minute, ladies,” Trez said as he went to the sliding doors. “I’ll send him down to you in the bedroom off that hall over there.”

“Yeah, okay, boss,” the one in the front answered.

He waited until they were out of the room before letting s’Ex in. Good thing—the executioner was pissed off, all but tearing the hood from his head.

Jabbing a finger into Trez’s face, he barked, “You be on time in the future. Or our agreement is null and void.”

Just as Trez was about to get all up in the bastard’s face, iAm stepped in. “We had a mandatory engagement for the King. Nothing we could get out of, and nothing that’s going to happen again.”

Black, glittering eyes swung in his brother’s direction. “You make sure of that.”

iAm nodded once, his face deceptively calm: His tell was the twitch in his left eyebrow—shit, Trez was going to hear allllll about this as soon as it was over.

Great. Something else to look forward to.

s’Ex reached up to the black brooch at his throat. Big as a fighter’s fist, it was studded with black stones, the metal twisting in and around itself—and when he removed the thing, all those robes fell to the floor.

Exposing a pedestrian-looking wife beater and a pair of black combat pants.

What was not pedestrian was the rest of him: Every inch of his skin was marked with that white ritual tattooing, his heavily muscled arms and shoulders patterned with the shit. And yet, he could still pass for human.

Good news for the prostitutes.

“In spite of the fact that you’re late,” s’Ex gritted out, “I did you all a favor.”

“So our parents are alive?” Trez said.

“Oh, yeah, that, too. They are losing their quarters, however—at the queen’s request. Last time I checked, your mother was having a nervous breakdown as her jewels were being repossessed.” The executioner smiled slowly. “Her majesty is actually pleased with their suffering. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned this all perfectly.”

“What’s the favor?”

“Her majesty is about to be occupied with things that don’t involve you for a little while.”

Trez narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“About nine months.”

“I’m sorry, what? I don’t get what you’re—”

“She’s pregnant.”

Trez stopped breathing. And then forced his lungs to get back with the program as he shot a glance over at his brother. “How the hell did that happen?”

“Of all people, I’d assume you don’t need a diagram.”

“But I thought her consort died ten years ago?”

“Yeah. Such a shame.” s’Ex cracked his knuckles. “He had a bad fall.”

“So whose is it.”

s’Ex smiled with a sly edge. “It’s a miracle.”

Holy … shit.

s’Ex nodded. “The timing’s good for you because she’s going to have to wait to see if it’s another daughter. At that point, the star charts will have to be read to figure out which will be the next queen. Obviously, if it’s a son? You’re screwed. If not, you might have a shot—after all, you were promised to that particular daughter. If another is to be queen? You’re good.”

iAm exhaled slowly. “This is … pretty fucking great news. Potentially.”

“But you still owe me,” s’Ex growled. “From now going forward? You take care of me … or I’ll take care of you both.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Trez jacked up his slacks, his mind reeling. “Whatever you need.”

“That’s more like it.”

Jesus … this changed everything. Or at least, it could.

A far better outcome than he could have engineered.

As s’Ex’s obsidian stare shifted to the hall the girls had gone down, Trez refocused. “A couple of rules.”

The executioner glanced back. “I don’t hear that.”

Trez stepped in tight, meeting the huge male grille-to-grille. “The rules are this—you do not hurt them. Rough sex is okay if it’s consensual, but no permanent scars or marks. And you may not eat them. Those are my only two constraints, and they are not negotiable.”

With Shadows, you always had to set limits. Especially a Shadow like this one.

“Wait, are they yours?” the male asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit, why didn’t you just say?” s’Ex put out his palm. “My vow. Nothing permanent and no lunch.”

What a relief, Trez thought as he clasped that hand and gave it a hard shake. “But I’m giving them to you for however long you want them. And the apartment, too, of course. When you want something fresh? You know where to find me.”

As the executioner smiled and went to walk off, Trez snagged a hold on the male’s arm. “One more thing—those are humans. As far as they know, vampires are fiction—and you need to keep it like that if you want this to continue.”

s’Ex looked bored. “Fine. But it would have been more fun the other way.”

As he stalked out of the room, his heavy footfalls echoed down the corridor, and then there were voices. Followed by a door shutting.

Trez went directly to the bar even though it was only just after noon, and picked up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. He didn’t bother with a glass; straight from the bottle was good enough for him.

As the liquor burned its way down to his gut, his only thought was that he should feel more relief than he did. Then again, he wasn’t quite out of the woods yet.

And he’d taken the virtue of a good female about a half hour ago.

No get-out-of-jail-free card was going to change that.

“Nine lives,” iAm said as he came over and put his hand out.

Trez passed the bourbon over. “Not yet—”

The moan that rippled distantly was female in origin. And so was the one that followed.

“He’s going to do all three of them at once,” iAm muttered.

A quick image of the executioner on his back with one female straddling his hips, another riding his face, all while he fingered a third made Trez take the bottle back and drink hard.

Goddamn, Trez thought, he hoped he could stay ahead of that appetite.