"Any of our boys up there?"
"Not that I'm aware of. "
A third voice said, "Nope. We were all at ground level. "
"Someone else took the fucker out. Tohr put some lead into him, sure, but that wasn't all - "
"Shut it. Our guest's come around. "
With the ruse over, Throe opened his eyes. Ah, yes. This was not Dhund - but damn close to it: The whole of the Black Dagger Brotherhood lined the walls of the room he was in, the males staring at him with aggression in their marrow. And that was not all. There were some others with them, soldiers, clearly. . . as well as that female, the one who had killed the Bloodletter.
As well as the great Blind King.
Throe focused on Wrath. The male had on dark spectacles, but even so, the consuming stare behind those lenses felt very obvious. Indeed, the most important vampire on the planet was as he had always been, a massive fighter, with the cunning of a master strategist, the expression of an executioner, and a body strong enough to follow through on both of those accounts.
Aptly named, he was.
And Xcor had chosen a very, very dangerous adversary.
The king stepped up to the bedside. "My surgeons saved your life. "
"I do not doubt it," Throe rasped out. Dearest Virgin Scribe, his throat was sore.
"So the way I look at it, under normal circumstances, a male of worth would owe me. But given who you're in bed with, the normal rules don't apply. "
Throe swallowed a couple of times. "My first allegiance, my only. . . one. . . is to my family - "
"Some fucking family," the Brother Vishous muttered.
"My blooded relations, that is. My. . . beloved sister - "
"I thought she was dead. "
Throe glared at the fighter. "She is. "
The king stepped in between the pair of them. "Yada, yada, yada - here's the deal. You'll be released when you're well enough, free to go out and tell the world that me and my boys are as compassionate and fair as Mother fucking Teresa, in spite of who your boss is - "
"Was. "
"Whatever. Bottom line, you're welcome to stay in one piece - "
"Unless you pop shit," Vishous interjected.
The king glared at the Brother. " - as long as you act like a gentleman. We'll even get you someone to feed from. The sooner you're out of here, the better. "
"And if I wanted to battle alongside you?"
Vishous spit on the floor. "We don't take traitors - "
Wrath's eyes whipped around. "V. Shut your motherfucking face. Or you're out in the hall. "
Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, was not the kind of male anyone addressed like that. Except, apparently, for Wrath. In this case, the Brother with the tattoos on his face and the perverted reputation and the hand of death did exactly what he was told. He shut the fuck up.
Which said volumes about Wrath. Did it not.
The king turned back. "But I wouldn't mind knowing who cut you. "
"Xcor. "