J. Ward - Dark Lover

Wrath laughed. "Was that a joke, Z? After all this time, have you finally found your sense of humor? Hell, you're giving me another reason to live."

Z flushed and snarled a little while the others chided him.

Wrath took a deep breath. "And my brothers, there's something else. I'm ascending to the throne. As I've told Tohr, we need to rebuild. We need to revive the race."

The brothers stared. And then one by one, they came up to the bed and swore their fealty in the old language, taking his hand, kissing the inside of his wrist. Their grave reverence shook him, moved him.

The Scribe Virgin was right , he thought. These were his people. How could he not lead them?

When the warriors were finished with their oaths, he looked at Vishous. "Did you get the jars of the two lessers from that barn?"

V frowned. "There was only one. The recruit that you and I met the night of your mating. I went back and stabbed the body while you were being operated on. Got his jar from the house."

Wrath shook his head. "There were two. There were definitely two. The other one was the lesser who was driving that Hummer."

"You sure he went down?"

"He was on the ground with a blow to the head." Abruptly, Wrath sensed Beth's disquiet and squeezed her hand. "Enough, we'll talk about this later."

"No, it's all right-" she began.

"Later." He kissed the back of her hand and stroked it across his cheek. Holding on to her eyes with his own, he tried to reassure her, hating the world he'd brought her into.

When she smiled at him, Wrath tugged her down for a quick kiss and then looked back at the brothers.

"One more thing," he said. "You're going to move in together. I want the brotherhood in one place. At least for the next couple of years."

Tohr winced. "Man, Wellsie's going to hate that. We just finished installing her dream kitchen."

"We'll work out something for you two. Especially because there's a child on the way. But the rest of you are going to be roommates."

There were grumbles. Serious grumbles.

"Hey, it could be worse," he said. "I could make you live with me."

"Good point," Rhage said. "Man, Beth, if you ever need a break from him-"

Wrath growled.

"What I was gonna say," Hollywood drawled, "was that she could move in with all of us for a while. We'll always take care of her."

Wrath glanced up at Beth. God, she was so beautiful. His partner. His lover. His queen.

He smiled, unable to look away from her eyes. "Leave us, gentlemen. I want to be alone with my shellan ."

As the brothers filed out, they were laughing with masculine appreciation. As if they knew exactly what was on his mind.

Wrath struggled on the bed, trying to force himself upright so that he bore the weight of his upper body on his hips.

Beth watched him the whole time, refusing to help.

When he was steady, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He could feel her skin already.

"Wrath," she said with warning as he beamed at her.

"Come on up here, leelan . A deal's a deal."

Even if all he could do was hold her, he just needed her in his arms.

Jose de la Cruz shook the arson investigator's hand. "Thanks. I look forward to your written report."

The man shook his head as he glanced back at the charred remains of the Caldwell Martial Arts Academy. "Never seen anything like this. You'd swear some kind of nuclear bomb went off. Frankly, I don't know what to put in the file."

Jose watched the man walk over to his county truck and drive off.

"You going back to the station?" Ricky asked while getting into his own squad car.

"Not right now. I gotta head across town."

Ricky waved and headed out.

Alone at the site, Jose took a deep breath. The smell of the fire was pungent, even four days later.

As he headed to his unmarked, he looked down at his shoes. They were pale gray from the twelve inches of soot that covered the site. The stuff was more volcano ash than anything left behind by a normal fire. And the ruins were odd, too. Usually parts of a structure survived, no matter how hot the flames. Here, nothing remained. The building had been razed to the ground.

Like the arson investigator, he'd never seen anything of the sort.

Jose got behind the wheel, stuck the key in the ignition, and put the car in gear. He drove eight miles to the east, into a grittier part of town. A series of unimpressive apartment build-ings appeared, urban weeds that grew up from the concrete and asphalt ground.

He stopped in front of one. Put the car in park. Turned off the engine. It was a long time before he could force himself out of the car.

Steeling his nerves, he walked over to the front entrance. A couple was coming out, and they held the door open for him. After going up three flights of stairs, he headed down a ratty hall with carpeting that was flat and brown from having borne thousands of footsteps.

The door he was looking for had been repainted so many times, its sunken panels were almost flush.

He knocked, but did not expect any answer.

Picking the lock was the work of a moment. He pushed the door open.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. A body left for four or five days would smell by now, even in the air-conditioning.

But there was nothing.

"Butch?" he called out.

He closed the door behind him. The couch was covered with the sports sections of the CCJ and the New York Post from the previous week. There were empty beer cans on the table. In the kitchen, there were dishes in the sink. More empties on the counter.

Jose went into the bedroom. All he found was a bed with messy sheets and a lot of clothes on the floor.

He paused by the bathroom door. It was closed.

His heart started pounding.

Pushing it open, he fully expected to find a body hanging from the showerhead.

But there was nothing.

Homicide Detective Butch O'Neal had disappeared. Without a trace.

Darius looked around himself. The peaceful mist of the Fade had dissolved, revealing a courtyard of white marble. From a fountain in the center, water fell in a twinkling dance, catching the diffused light and sending it back out in flashes. Songbirds called sweetly, as if both welcoming him and announcing his arrival.

So this place actually exists , he thought.

"Good day, Darius, son of Marklon."

He dropped to his knees without turning around and lowered his head. "Scribe Virgin. You honor me with an audience."

She laughed softly. As she stepped in front of him, the hem of her black robes came into his view. The glow spilling out from under the silk was as bright as direct sunlight.

"Darius, how could I refuse? It is the first congregation you have ever asked for." He felt something brush his shoulder, and the hair on the back of his head tingled. "Rise, now. I would see your face."

He got to his feet, towering over the slight figure. He kept his hands clasped in front of him.

"So the Fade is not to your liking, princeps ?" she asked. "And you want me to send you back?"

"I humbly tender such a request, if it would not offend. I have waited the required period. I would see my daughter. Just once. If it would not offend."

The Scribe Virgin laughed again. "I must say, you make a better presentation than your king. Quite a way with words that warrior has not."

There was a pause.

He used the time to think of his brothers.

How he missed Wrath. Missed them all.

But the one he wanted to see was Beth.

"She is mated," the Scribe Virgin said abruptly. "Your daughter, she is taken by a worthy male."