As if what was banging through his brain had woken her up.
Rearranging himself, he put his head next to hers and shook it back and forth. But he was lying. And she probably knew it.
Chapter Nine
The following evening, Qhuinn stood in the far corner of Wrath's study, wedged into the juncture of two pale blue walls. The room was huge, a good forty feet long and forty feet across, and it had a ceiling lofty enough to give you a nosebleed. But space was getting tight.
Then again, there were a dozen or so big people packed in around the prissy French furniture.
Qhuinn knew from the French shit. His dead-and-gone mother had liked the style, and back before he'd been disavowed from his family, he'd been yammered at ad nauseam about not sitting on her Louis-the-somethingth crap.
At least that was one area where he hadn't been discriminated against in his own house - she'd wanted only her and his sister to park it in those delicate seats. He and his brother had not been permitted. Ever. And his father had been tolerated with a grimace, likely only because he'd paid for the stuff a couple hundred years before.
Whatever.
At least Wrath's command central made sense. The king's chair was as big as a car and probably weighed as much as one, its rugged yet elegant carvings marking it as the throne of the race. And the huge desk in front of him wasn't exactly fit for a girl, either.
Tonight, and as usual, Wrath looked like the killer he was: silent, intense, deadly. Your basic anti - Avon lady. Beside him, Beth, his queen and shellan, was composed and serious. And on the other side, George, his Seeing Eye dog, was looking. . . well, kinda postcard-y. But then golden retrievers were like that: picturesque, pretty, and pettable.
More Donny Osmond than dark overlord.
Then again, Wrath more than made up for that one.
Abruptly, Qhuinn dropped his mismatched eyes to the Aubusson rug. He did not need to see who was standing on the far side of the queen.
Ah, hell.
His peripheral vision was working far too well tonight.
His slut of a cousin, his cocksucking, suit-wearing, Montblanc-up-the-ass cousin Saxton the Magnificent, was standing next to the queen, looking like a combination of Cary Grant and some model in a goddamn cologne ad.
Not that Qhuinn was bitter.
Because the guy was sharing Blay's bed.
Nah.
Nope. Not at all.
The cocksucker -
With a wince, he thought maybe he should switch that insult to something a little farther away from what the two of them. . .
God, he couldn't even go there. Not if he wanted to breathe.
Blay was also in the room, but the guy was staying away from his lover. He always did. Whether it was in these meetings, or outside of them, they were never closer than three feet apart.
Which was the only saving grace to living in the same house as the pair of them. Nobody ever saw them lip-locked or even holding hands.
Although. . . it wasn't as if Qhuinn didn't lie awake during the day anyway, torturing himself with all kinds of Kama Sutra shit -
The door of the study opened and Tohrment came dragging in. Man, he looked as if he'd been rolled out of a moving car on the highway, his eyes like piss holes in the snow, his body moving stiffly as he went over to stand next to John and Xhex.
At the arrival, Wrath's voice cut through the convo, shutting everyone up. "Now that we're all here, I'm going to can the bullshit and turn this over to Rehvenge. I got nothing good to say about any of this, so he'll be more efficient at briefing you. "
As the Brothers got to muttering, the massive, Mohawked motherfucker plugged his cane into the floor and got to his feet. As usual, the half-breed was dressed in a black pin-striped suit - God, Qhuinn was starting to despise anything that had lapels - and a mink duster to keep him warm. With his symphath tendencies kept in control, thanks to regular hits of dopamine, his eyes were violet, and mostly un-evil.
Mostly. He really wasn't someone you wanted as an enemy, and not just because, like Wrath, he was the leader of his people: His day job was being king of the symphath colony up north. Nights he spent here with his shellan, Ehlena, living la vida vampire. And never the twain shall meet.