Down in Fritz’s fiefdom, he made a pot of coffee as doggen scurried around making First Meal. Good thing they were already so preoccupied. Sometimes, when you felt like shit inside and out, you wanted to work your own Krups.
Pride mattered in moments like this.
Mind you, first trip through the park, he forgot to add the grounds, so all he got was a nice, steaming pot of clear water.
Once more with feeling.
He was coming out of the dining room with a camping thermos full of dark brown miracle juice and a bottle of aspirin when the door to the vestibule was opened by Fritz.
The pair who stepped past the good doggen ensured that there was a shitload of Bayer in Qhuinn’s immediate future: Blay and Saxton entered the house arm in arm.
For a split second, he nearly growled as possessiveness made him want to drive his Hummer between the two and park it there—until he realized their huggy-huggy was evidently for medicinal purposes. Saxton didn’t seem too steady on his feet, and his face had clearly been used as a punching bag.
Now Qhuinn growled low for a different reason. “Who fucking did that to you.”
Couldn’t be the guy’s own family. Saxton’s folks were cool with what and who he was.
“Tell me,” he demanded. And once that question was answered, the pair could follow it up with how in the fuck Blay thought he could bring an outsider not only into the Brotherhood’s seat, but the home of the First Family.
Oh, but number three: How was it? was actually going to stay right where it was. Namely choking his throat.
Saxton smiled. Sort of. His upper lip wasn’t working all that well. “Nothing but some human trash. Let us not get emotional, shall we?”
“Fuck that. And what the hell are you doing here with him?” Qhuinn stared at Blay and tried not to measure the guy’s face for stubble burn. “He can’t be in this house. You can’t bring him—”
From up above, Wrath’s voice cut him off, the king’s deep baritone filling the foyer. “Blay wasn’t kidding about you, was he. You got some kind of cracked there, didn’t you, son.”
Saxton wheezed as he bowed. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, for not providing a more agreeable presentation. You are most kind to welcome me herein.”
“You did me right when it mattered. I return the favor. Always. That being said, you compromise my happy home in any way, I’ll slice off your balls and feed them to you.”
I love Wrath, Qhuinn thought.
Saxton bowed again. “Understood.”
Wrath didn’t look down the stairs, his wraparounds remaining straight ahead so that it seemed as if he were staring up at the frescoes on the lofty ceiling. And yet even with his blindness, he missed nothing. “Qhuinn’s got coffee, from what I can scent, so that’ll help, and Fritz has fired up a bedroom for you. You want something to eat before you feed?”
Feed? 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 doggen paused in favor of Saxton’s limp, whipping out his handkerchief to polish the carved brass curlicues.
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 cousin, Qhuinn.”