She was going to miss them almost as much as John.
“Madam?” the butler asked. “Are you all right?”
Xhex forced a smile and guessed she had probably let out some kind of curse. “Fine, just fine.”
When she got to Wrath’s study, there was so much approval in the air, she practically had to push the shit aside to walk into the room: The Brothers were all thick chested with pride… except for Qhuinn, who was blushing so deeply he’d turned himself into a Roman candle.
John, however, appeared reserved—not looking at her at all, but at some middle ground right in front of himself.
From behind the desk, Wrath focused on her. “And now on to business,” the king announced.
As the doors shut behind her, she had no fucking clue what was doing. John still refused to even glance at her… and, shit, the king had a wound on his neck—assuming he hadn’t decided that white gauze at the throat was some kind of fashion statement.
Everyone shut up, settled down, got serious.
Oh, man, they had to do this in front of the whole Brotherhood?
Then again, what else could she have expected? The groupthink was so pervasive in this bunch of males, of course they’d all want to be present when things were finished.
She stood strong. “Let’s get this over with. Where do I sign?”
Wrath frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“On the papers.”
The king glanced over at John. Looked back. “This is not the kind of thing I’ll be reducing to writing. Ever.”
Xhex glanced around and then refocused on John, reading his emotional grid. He was… nervous. Saddened. And purposeful in such a powerful way, she was momentarily struck stupid.
“What the hell is going on here,” she demanded.
The king’s voice was loud and clear. “I have an assignment for you—if you’re interested. Something that I have on good authority you can discharge with remarkable skill. Assuming you are open to helping us.”
Xhex stared at John in shock.
He was responsible for this, she thought. Whatever wheels were turning in this room, he had set them in motion.
“What have you done?” she said directly to him.
That got him to look at her properly. Raising his hands, he signed, There are limits to what we can do. We need you for this.
Glancing at Rehv, she got a whole lot of grave coming back at her—and nothing more. No censure, no girls-not-allowed. Same for the rest of the males in the room: There was nothing but calm acceptance of her presence… and her capabilities.
“What exactly do you want from me?” she said to the king slowly.
As the male spoke, she continued to look at John while hearing things like Band of Bastards… an assassination attempt… their lair… a rifle.
With each passing sentence, her brows cranked higher and higher.
Okay, so not about a bake sale or some shit. This was locating the heart of the enemy, infiltrating their secure domain, and removing any long-range weaponry that could have been used to try to kill Wrath the night before.
Thus providing the Brotherhood, if all went as expected, with the proof they needed to condemn Xcor and his soldiers to death.
Xhex put her hands on her hips—so they wouldn’t start rubbing together with glee. This was right up her alley—an impossible proposition backed up by a principle she could get behind: revenge on someone who had fucked you.
“So what do you think?” Wrath asked.
Xhex stared over at John, willing him to look at her again. When he did not, she just reread his emotional grid: He was terrified, but he was resolved.
He wanted her to do this. But why? What the hell had changed?
“Yeah, it’s something I’m interested in,” she heard herself say.
As deep male voices growled approval, the king curled up a fist and banged it on the desk. “Good! Well-done. There’s just one thing.”
A catch. Naturally. “I work best on my own. I don’t want eight hundred pounds of babysitter sneaking around behind me.”
“Nope. You go by yourself—knowing that you have all our resources as backup if you need or want them. The one constraint is that you can’t kill Xcor.”
“No problem, I’ll just bring him in alive for questioning.”
“Nope. You can’t touch him. No one can until we analyze the bullet. And then if we find what I think we will, he’s Tohr’s to kill. By official proclamation.”
Xhex glanced over at the Brother. Jesus Christ, he looked totally different, as if he were a younger, healthy relation of the guy she had known since Wellsie had been killed. And given the way he was now? Xcor had a grave with his name on it already dug.
“What happens if I have to defend myself?”
“You have permission to do whatever you have to in order to secure your safety. In fact, in that event…” The king turned his blind eyes in John’s direction. “I encourage you to bring every weapon you have to bear in your own defense.”
Read: Use that symphath side of yours, girlfriend.
“But if possible,” Wrath added, “leave as much undisturbed as possible, and Xcor aboveground.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Xhex said. “I don’t have to touch him or any of the others. I can keep it just about the rifle.”
“Good.” As the king smiled and flashed his fangs, the others started talking in a rush. “Perfect—”
“Wait, I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” she said, shutting them all up as she looked over at John. “Not… yet.”
FORTY-NINE
“Unhand me, you fool,” Xcor blabbered as he felt himself lifted once again.
He was beyond finished with being manhandled: Up off his bunk he’d been resting on. Into the vehicle. Taken somewhere else. And now disturbed anew.
“Almost there,” Zypher said.
“Leave me be.…” That was supposed to have come out as a demand. Instead, he sounded like a child to his own ears.
Ah, how he wished for his former strength, so that he could have pushed himself free, and stood upon his own legs.
But that time had passed. Indeed, he was well gone… and mayhap done for.
His dire condition was the result of no one particular injury from that fight with that soldier—it was the culmination of all of them, the wounds covering his head and his gut, the agony something rather like the beat of his heart, a force that existed and persisted within him, over which he had no control.
Initially, he had fought the tide under the masculine just-throw-it-off theory. His body had had other plans for him, however, and more sway than his mind and will did. Now it felt as if he was owned by this pall of disorientation and exhaustion—
Abruptly, the air he breathed was cold and clear, slapping some sense into him.
Struggling to focus his eyes, he was greeted by a meadow, a rolling meadow that rose to meet a magnificent autumnal tree. And there… yes, there under the branches that were cast in red and yellow was Throe.
Next to whom was a slim figure in a white gown… a female.
Unless he was seeing things?
No, he was not. As Zypher carried him closer, she became more distinct. She was… incalculably beautiful, with pale skin and blond hair that was twisted up upon the crown of her head.
She was vampire, not human.
She was… unearthly, an illumination spilling out from her form, one so bright it o’ershadowed the moon.
Ah, so this was a dream.
He should have guessed. After all, there was no reason for Zypher to take him into the farmland parts, risking their lives for some fresh air. No cause for any female to be waiting upon his arrival. No possibility that someone as fair as she would be out alone in the world.
No, this was just a product of his delirium, and therefore he relaxed into the iron arms of his soldier, recognizing that whatever his subconscious had coughed up was not going to matter at all, and he might as well let things play out. Eventually he would wake up, and mayhap this was a sign he had finally settled into a deep, healing sleep.