“Well, you got an upgrade, all right,” Vishous said. “That shit…is pretty boss.”
Wrath continued to hang back, standing to the side as Beth told his brothers exactly where the furniture needed to be rearranged.
“Okay, you want to give this a shot, my lord?” Rhage said. “I think it’s ready.”
Wrath cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
He and George went forward, and he put out his hand until he felt…
His father’s desk was hand-carved out of ebony, the fine filigree work around the edge done by a real master craftsman.
Wrath leaned down, feeling his way around, remembering what it had looked like to his young eyes, recalling how centuries of wear had only increased its imposing beauty. The massive legs of the desk were actually statues of males depicting the four seasons of life, and the smooth top they supported was marked with the same symbols of lineage that had been tattooed on the insides of Wrath’s forearms. As he traced along farther, he found the three wide drawers that ran beneath the surface and remembered his father sitting behind the thing with papers and edicts and feather quills all around.
“It’s extraordinary,” Beth said softly. “Good God, it’s-”
“The size of my frickin’ car,” Hollywood muttered. “And twice as heavy.”
“-the most beautiful desk I’ve ever seen,” his shellan finished.
“It was my father’s.” Wrath cleared his throat. “We got the chair, too, right? Where is it?”
Butch groaned and there was some heavy shuffling. “And…here…I…thought this…was an…elephant.” The sound of the thing’s legs hitting the Aubusson carpet was thunderous. “What is this fucker made out of? Reinforced concrete painted to look like wood?”
Vishous exhaled Turkish tobacco. “I told you not to try that one on your own, cop. You want to cripple yourself?”
“I did just fine. Stairs were a piece of cake.”
“Oh, really. So why are you bent over and rubbing your lower back?”
There was another groan, and then the cop muttered, “I’m not bent over.”
“Anymore.”
Wrath ran his hands up the arms of the throne, feeling the symbols in the Old Language that pronounced it not a mere chair, but a seat of leadership. It was exactly how he remembered…and, yes, at the pinnacle of the tall back he found cool metal and slick stones, and recalled the shimmering sight of gold, platinum, diamonds…and a rough, uncut ruby the size of a fist.
The desk and throne were the only surviving things from his parent’s house, and they had been brought over from the Old Country not by him, but by Darius. D had been the one who’d found the human who’d purchased the set after the lessers had sold it as loot, found them and brought them back.
Yeah…and Darius had also cared enough to make sure that when the Brotherhood had come across the ocean, the race’s throne and the king’s matching desk had come with them.
Wrath had never expected to use either.
But as he and George took up res and sat down…it felt right.
“Shit, does anyone else feel the need to bow?” Rhage asked.
“Yes,” Butch said. “But then again, I’m trying to take pressure off my liver. I think it got wrapped around my spine.”
“Told you you needed help,” V quipped.
Wrath let his brothers go on, because he sensed they needed the release and the distraction of verbal sparring.
Things had not gone well during the trip up north to the colony. Yes, Rehv was out, and that was great, but the Brotherhood did not leave fighters behind. And Xhex was nowhere to be found.
The next knock that came was another one Wrath had been waiting for. As Rehv and Ehlena came in, there was a lot of oohing and ahhing from the pair, and then the Brotherhood filed out, leaving Wrath and Beth and George alone with the couple.
“When are you going back north?” Wrath asked the male. “To find her.”
“Second I can stand the fading light in the sky.”
“Good. Do you want backup?”
“No.” There was a soft rustling, as if Rehv had drawn his mate to his side because she was uncomfortable. “I go alone. It’s better. Apart from looking for Xhex, I’m also going to tap a successor, and that means things could get dicey.”
“A successor?”
“My life is here. In Caldwell.” Even though Rehv’s voice was steady and strong, the guy’s emotions were bouncing all over the place, and Wrath was not surprised. The blender of life had been spinning the motherfucker but good the last twenty-four hours, and if there was one thing Wrath knew firsthand, rescue was sometimes just as disorienting as a capture.