The King(36)
Jesus Christ, Trez was now going to fuck that female. And God only knew where that was going to land them all.
Just as he hit the exit, he called out over his shoulder, “Fritz.”
Through the din of First Meal prep, the doggen answered back, “Yes, master?”
“I never find any seafood in this place. Why is that?”
“The King does not favor any manner of fin.”
“Would he allow it in here?”
“Oh, yes, master. Just not upon his table, and certainly never upon his plate.”
iAm stared at the panels of the door in front of him. “I want you to get some fresh salmon and poach it. Tonight.”
“But of course. I will not have it ready afore First Meal for you—”
“Not for me. I hate fish. It’s for Goddamn Cat. I want him served that regularly.” He pushed the door open. “And get him some fresh veggies. What kind of cat food does he eat?”
“Only the best. Hill’s Science Diet.”
“Find out what is in his food—and then I want everything hand-prepared. Nothing out of the bag for him from now on.”
Approval bloomed in the old doggen’s voice: “I’m sure Master Boo will appreciate your special interest.”
“I’m not interested in that bag of fur.”
Totally annoyed with himself and everybody else on the planet, he got the fuck not just out the kitchen, but out the entire mansion. Good timing. The sun had set and the light was draining from the sky.
He loved the night and took a moment to breathe in deep. The cold winter air made his sinuses sing.
If he had been his own male, free of the tether of his brother and the prison imposed upon Trez by their parents, he would have chosen such a different existence. He would be out west somewhere, living off the land and far from anyone else.
It wasn’t just that he was a recluse by nature. He saw no value in what so many others did. In his mind, the world simply did not need another iPhone, or faster Internet service, or a twenty-seventh Real Housewives franchise. Hell, who the fuck cared if your neighbor had a bigger house/car/boat/trailer/mower. Why be bothered if somebody had a better watch/ring/phone/TV/lottery ticket. And don’t get him started on sneakers. Fashion-forward anything. Makeup ads, movie-star drama, manic home-network shoppers and mindless human drones who actually believed what their preachers forced down their throats.
And no, it wasn’t just humans who bought into all that shit.
Vampires were equally guilty—they just clothed their cow mentality in superiority over those rats without tails.
So many sublimating who they really were to the dictates of what they were told to want, need, seek, acquire.
Then again, he hadn’t managed to break free of his brother’s drama, so who was he—
As his phone went off in his fleece’s pocket, he shoved a hand in and grabbed it. He knew who was calling him even before he looked at the screen, accepted the ring-a-ding-ding, and put the cell up to his ear.
What small part of him had flared to life died in the center of his chest once again.
“Your Excellency,” he greeted the high priest. “To what do I owe this honor.”
As Assail paced around his kitchen, he checked his watch. Turned in front of the sink. Strode back toward the bar. Checked his watch again.
Ehric had left about twenty-one—no, twenty-two minutes ago—and the trip that he’d been sent on should have required twenty-five at the most.
Assail’s heart pounded. He had a plan for the evening and this first piece was as critical as the conclusion.
He took out his cell phone and dialed—
The double beep that went off indicated that a vehicle was entering the garage.
Assail ran to the mudroom, threw open the reinforced door, and tried to see into the black-tinted windows of his bulletproof Range Rover. Had the cousins in fact secured …
Protocol was to wait for everything to be closed up again before exiting any vehicle, but impatience and that fear that was plaguing him threw the sensible rule right out the dormer: Striding fast over the bald concrete floor, he zeroed in on the SUV as Ehric cut the engine and got out along with his brother.
Before Assail could make an assessment of his cousins’ faces, or start barking demands for explanation, the rear door opened slowly.
Ehric and his brother froze. Like they maybe hadn’t had a lot of control over their cargo—and knew anything could happen next.
The older human female who emerged was five feet tall and stocky as a bureau. Her hair was thick and white and curled back from her lined face, and her dark eyes stared out bright and intelligent from a heavy overhang of lid. Beneath a shaggy black wool coat, her dress was a simple, bag-like blue flowered frock, but her short-heeled shoes and her matching bag were patent leather—as if she’d wanted to wear the best she had and that was all that was in her closet.