“We can’t ignore the possibility—”
“I’m sorry, did I miss something? Did some fortune-teller slip you a crystal ball or some shit? Because no offense, you can’t look into the future any more than I can.”
“Exactly.”
Wrath threw up his hands and started in with the stomping. “You don’t get it, you just don’t fucking get it. This is done, it’s zipped up. The vote of no confidence passed—I’m castrated as a ruler, I have no power or authority. So even if there was anything I could do from a legal standpoint? I’m not the person who can change things anymore.”
“So who is?”
“A distant cousin of mine. Real peach of a guy.”
Her hellren’s tone suggested peach of a guy was a euphemism for total fucking douche.
Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to see the proclamation or document—there had to be one, right? I don’t think they’d just leave you a voice mail.”
“Oh, my God, Beth, will you leave this alone—”
“Does Saxton have it? Or did they send it to Rehv—”
“Will you be fucking normal!” he hollered at her. “You just went through your needing! Most females are in bed for a week, why can’t that be you? You want a young, go lie goddamn down—that’s what you’re supposed to do. I’m surprised with all that time you spent with goddamn Layla she didn’t tell you…”
As he went on and on, she knew this was just steam being released through vocabulary. But they didn’t have time for him to keep it up indefinitely.
Getting up from her seat, she walked over to him and—
Slap.
As Beth followed through with her palm, the sharp cracking sound faded in the room and her beloved mate shut up.
Staring at him calmly, she said, “And now that I have your attention and you’re not ranting and raving like a lunatic, I’d appreciate your telling me where I can find whatever they sent us.”
Wrath let his head fall back as if he were utterly exhausted. “Why are you doing this.”
Abruptly, she thought of what he’d said to her when her needing had hit and he’d found her trying to get at the drugs.
In a voice that cracked, she replied, “Because I love you. And you either don’t want to acknowledge it, or you can’t see that far into the future, but this really, totally matters to you. I’m telling you, Wrath, this is the kind of stuff that people never get over. And like I said, you want to quit? Fine. That’s your choice. But I’ll be good and goddamned if I’m going to let someone take it away from you.”
He brought his jaw back to level. “You don’t get it, leelan. It’s over.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
There was a long moment … and then he reached out and crushed her to him, holding her so tightly she could feel her very bones bend.
“I’m not strong enough for this,” he whispered in her ear—like he didn’t want anyone to hear that coming out of his mouth. Ever.
Running her hands up his powerful back, she held him just as hard. “But I am.”
It was forever.
Wrath waited in the hidden room that smelled like earth and spice for forever. In the blackness, his thoughts were loud as screams, vivid as lightning, indelible as an inscription in stone.
And just when he thought it would never happen, that he and his silent, stewing companion would be always in the dark, literally and figuratively, there was a rasping sound and the camouflaged panel began to slide back.
“No matter what occurs,” he whispered to the Brother, “you are not to interfere. I hereby command you thus, and hear me well.”
Tohrture’s response was no louder than a breath: “As you wish.”
The flickering light of a torch cast only shallow illumination, but it was more than enough for Wrath to identify the male: a cleric who was on the periphery of court … but whose father had been a healer for the race.
A keeper of herbs and potions.
The male was muttering under his breath. “…make more in a night’s time. Cannae do that which is impossible…”
As the male went for the worktable, Wrath’s body acted without benefit of his mind. Springing forth from the shadows in a sloppy fashion, he grabbed upon the thin upper arm, putting his strength into the effort without any finesse. In response, there was a high-pitched yelp of surprise, but then that torch swung about and Wrath nearly lost his hold as the open flames flashed close to his eyes.
“Shut the door!” Wrath called out as he attempted to catch the cleric around the waist.
Even though there was no comparison in their sizes, with Wrath twice as big, the cleric’s robes were slippery to hold on to and the thrashing of his prey difficult to control. And that torch was a danger as both sought to control it: With shadows racing across the walls and the cauldron and the table, Wrath found his hands getting burned as he attempted to—