The Shadows

FIFTY-SEVEN

“So what’s on your mind, First Adviser?”

Abalone bowed as Wrath addressed him. “Thank you, my lord.” Stepping into the audience room, he closed the sliding door behind him. “Thank you very much.”

“Must be serious for you to shut us in together,” the King murmured.

“My lord . . .” He cleared his throat. “I seek always to serve you. In all ways.”

“Stipulated. So what’s doing?”

Not for the first time, Abalone wished he could see the male’s eyes. Then again, maybe it was better that those wraparounds hid so much. He preferred having proper control over his colon.

The presences of Phury and Zsadist registered, as did the reality of the time. They had no more than five or ten minutes left before they would have to return Wrath to the compound. But this couldn’t wait.

“My lord, I appreciate your allowing Paradise to stay here. It is most generous of you—”

“But you want her back home with you and you don’t like Throe being there.”

Abalone closed his eyes. “Yes, my lord. She is . . . the separation is more difficult than I anticipated. And please know it is not that I feel she is unsafe here. She is probably more safe—”

“I put you in a really shitty situation, didn’t I,” Wrath cut in. “It’s not fair to ask you to play babysitter for some asshole like that at the expense of your own personal life. I apologize.”

Abalone blinked. Of all the ways he had thought this would go, Wrath expressing regret had not been even close to the list. “My lord, please, I am the one failing you—”

“You want us to help you get him out?”

Phury spoke up. “Rhage would volunteer for that in a heartbeat.”

“My lord, you are so—”

Wrath ignored him and focused on the fighters. “So what’s our plan here? Are you two going over there with him now and doing the evac?”

Zsadist’s eyes changed from yellow to black. “Let’s do it—”

“Wait, wait.” Abalone put his palms out. “I shall speak with him.”

Wrath shook his head. “Not alone, you won’t. You’re too valuable to me. Tell Paradise to stay here one more night while we get the coast clear.”

And that was how, some ten minutes later, he ended up dematerializing to his home flanked by a pair of the King’s personal guards.

As he reformed in front of his Tudor’s heavy front door, he looked at the glowing windows and wondered where Throe was, what he was doing—what he was finding. The staff had said the male had slept around the clock that first night, and that was not likely to happen two times in a row. Accordingly, Abalone had taken care to lock a whole lot of doors before he’d left, and there were plenty of doggen with watchful eyes around.

Squaring his shoulders, he glanced over at the Brothers who stood on either side of him, like a set of Sun Tzu’s bookends.

“I should like to be the one to speak with him.”

Phury nodded. “It’s your house. You should do the disinviting.”

Abalone opened the copper lock with his key, and he felt none of his usual comfort upon crossing the threshold, no easing as his beloved butler came forth from the parlor to take his coat.

“Master,” the doggen said, bowing deeply. “May I serve your guests as well for Last Meal?”

“They shall not be staying. Where is Throe, may I ask?”

“He has been in his bedroom. I have been checking—the door has been closed and he has not come down even for meals. The one time I knocked, early in the evening, he replied that he was resting.”

Abalone did not hesitate. He took to the stairs, keeping the copper key in his hand. When he reached the top, he continued forward, passing doors until he got to the second-best guest room.

It had seemed an undeserved honor to put the male in the best guest room—even if Throe was none the wiser.

“Throe,” Abalone said sharply. “A word if I may.”

When there was no answer, he rapped on the closed panels with his knuckles—

The door opened of its own volition, revealing a dimly lit interior. He was about to lean in when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and held him back.

“Allow my brother,” Phury said gently. “You do not know what you will find.”

Z walked in with a gun down by his thigh. A moment later, after those heavy footfalls traveled around the room, he said, “Clear.”

Abalone rushed forth. Indeed, the room was vacated—the bed had even been made. There was no sign that anyone had been there.

Except for the slightly open window across the way.

Verily, one of the multi-paned panels with their steel mesh overlays had been cracked and left ajar.

“He was not a prisoner here,” Abalone said as he went over and reclosed the thing. “Why escape?”

“The more important question,” Phury said, “was how can we be sure he’s actually gone? This is a big house. Lots of hiding places—”

“Maybe this will explain things.” Z went over to the desk in the corner and held up a sealed envelope. “It’s got your name on it.”

The Brother brought the thing over and handed it to Abalone.

With shaking hands, Abalone opened the back flap and took out the single sheet of paper that had been folded twice. The stationery was his own, with an engraving of a line drawing of the house at the top:

Dearest Abalone, son of Abalone,

Forgive me for not relating my thanks to you in person. Your hospitality has been much appreciated and very generous. In recognition of the difficult position my presence must undoubtedly place upon you, I am going to seek refuge with another.

I very much anticipate our paths crossing once again, cousin mine.

Until then, thank you once more for opening your home to me, and until then, I remain,

Your Blooded Relation,

Throe

“What does it say?” Phury asked.

As the automatic shutters began to come down for the day, Abalone handed the letter over. “Nothing of consequence. I agree. I need to search the house, but I fear that shall take too long for you to safely return to your compound.”

“Then we’ll stay the day with you,” Phury said as his eyes traveled over the script. “But until we know you and your staff are all right? We’re going nowhere.”

Abalone exhaled. “Blessed am I for your presence.”

Z laughed tightly. “You think we want to go back and tell Wrath you got your throat slit because we didn’t do our job? Not the kind of report I want to make to the King.”

Phury gave the letter back and put his hand on Abalone’s shoulder once again. “And let us do the dirty work—it’s safer for everyone that way. Where’s your bedroom?”

“Down that way.”

“Come on, we’ll take you there and then get your staff secured. After that, we’re going to fine-tooth-comb this house until we know there’s nothing but that letter left behind.”

Abalone found himself nodding. “Thank you, sires. Thank you so very much.”

“I am most pleased that you called upon me. And I am sorry that I kept you waiting.”

Throe smiled at the female addressing him and indicated the comfortable sofa he’d been sitting on since he arrived on her property. “It has been no hardship. I’ve been warm and dry. Already, you have been as gracious as any hostess could possibly be.”

The aristocratic female smiled, flashing teeth that were as white as the diamonds at her throat. Her wrists. Upon her fingers and earlobes. Standing just inside the modest caretaker’s residence on her huge estate, she looked like a model who’d walked into the wrong photoshoot.

“My mate is unwell,” she said gravely. “I had to attend to him.”

Dressed as she was in a skintight leopard-print cocktail dress, one had to wonder exactly what kind of needs her elderly hellren had.

Hardly the sort of thing a shellan would wear to tuck an older gentlemale into bed.

More likely, Throe thought, she had dressed to meet him.

“Yes, I recall he was ailing,” he said smoothly. “I’m very sorry.”

“It grieves me so.”

“How could it not.”

“I shall be a widow soon.”

As he nodded in solemn sympathy, he deliberately allowed his eyes to drift down from her black straight hair to her dainty feet.

The last time he’d seen her, it had been here, but there had been far fewer clothes involved—for both of them, as well as his fellow Bastards. She had been lying before the hearth, and he and the soldiers had swarmed over her naked flesh, feeding, fucking. That had been about a month ago, only the most recent of the sessions that had been ongoing for the previous year at regular intervals.

“Is it only you then tonight?” she asked in a husky way.

“Yes, and I must have you know that I am afraid we have parted ways, Xcor and myself. I’m getting out of the fighting.”

“Are you,” she purred. “And where are you staying?”

“I am between residences at this moment.”

“Really.”

“Indeed.”

She came forward, crossing the shallow room to stand within arm’s reach of him. “Dawn is coming soon.”

He sent his stare down her body again. “Is it. Well, then I shall have to go.”

“So soon,” she pouted.

“’Tis only safe.” Idly, he trailed his fingertips up her hip, across her lower belly . . . down to the juncture of her thighs. Pressing in through the dress, he gave her cleft a little stroke. “So I’m afraid I must end things here—”

“Perhaps you and I may come to an arrangement,” she said.

“Oh?” he said.

“My hellren is far older than I. He is my true love, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But because of his advancing age, there are certain needs of mine that he is not capable of fulfilling regularly.”

“I believe you are familiar with my abilities in that regard.”

The female smiled in a feral fashion. “Yes. I am.”

“And it would seem only fair that, were you to offer me room and board, you be compensated in a manner which you deem appropriate.”

The female put one of her stiletto-clad feet on the arm of the sofa and lifted the hem of her dress up to her waist, exposing her bare sex to him. “Perhaps you shall refresh my memory as to your talents first.”

Throe purred in the back of his throat and leaned into her, extending his tongue, licking his way into her slit. As her hips tilted toward him, and her head fell back, he sucked at her clit—

And then stopped. Sat back. “I have one problem.”

“Yes?” she grunted, pulling her head back to level.

“I cannae stay here at this cottage. Not if the Band of Bastards are going to pay you . . . homage. Surely, on an estate as large as this, there must be other accommodations available?”

She frowned. “You are of the Bluerme bloodline, are you not?”

“I am. Through my mahmen’s people.”

“You are a distant relation of my hellren’s, then, and it would therefore be rude of us not to offer you shelter. Of course, if you are going to be in the main house, we shall have to purchase you clothing.”

Throe smiled at her. It was just so perfect.

After all, she and her mate had supported the political coup against Wrath—and there was no way they were rejoicing the King’s subsequent disbanding of The Council.

He had his in, as well as his base of operations.

“That would be most acceptable,” he said, slipping his hands around her hips and drawing her back to his mouth.

Against her sex, he murmured, “Now, allow me to demonstrate my affection for your generous nature.”