The Shadows

Abalone leaned in. “My lord? I’m sorry to intrude, but may I please make the presentation of mine blooded daughter prior to us getting started with tonight’s audiences?”

Wrath gestured the male forward with his free hand. “Yeah. Bring her in.”

Abalone ducked out and there was a hushed conversation. Then he reappeared, ushering in a sapling of a female. With her blond hair, slight build, and long legs, she was on the Arctic Princess spectrum of the fairer sex.

Pretty. Very pretty. Maybe even beautiful—although she didn’t hold a candle to his Mary.

Abalone walked the girl forward, one hand at her elbow, his fatherly pride plumping up his chest. “My esteemed ruler, great King of all—”

“Yeah, yeah, enough with that,” Wrath cut in. “Paradise, I understand you’re moving into my shellan’s and her brother’s house here. Welcome.”

As the black diamond was offered, Paradise bent at the waist, her hands shaking so badly they seemed to shimmer in the light from the chandelier.

“My lord,” she whispered before kissing the stone.

Releasing his hand, she straightened and stared at the floor, her shoulders curling into her chest, her feet locked together.

“You want to meet my dog?” the King asked.

George, ever up for a good head rub, thumped his tail on the floor, the sound like someone was beating a rope into the hardwood.

“Pet him,” Wrath said. “You’re allowed.”

The girl glanced around at the Brotherhood, her eyes sticking to the shitkicker level. And that was when Rhage felt sorry for her. A lot of the aristocracy sat on their females so hard, they were rarely around males they were not related to—so this was no doubt the first time she had been in the same room with so much testosterone.

“G’head, George. Go say hi.”

At Wrath’s urging, the dog padded forward and sat his fluffy butt down right in front of her, his ears pricking, that tail sweeping back and forth.

“Is . . . he a boy?” she asked softly as she lowered herself to the floor and reached up to all the fur.

“Yup.” Wrath looked up. “All right, assholes, introduce yourselves, will ya? And keep it classy.”

Cue the throat clearing. At least until Phury stepped forward and did the intros. Probably best—he was the closest to a gentlemale they had.

“Glad you’re here,” the Primale said. “I’m Phury—we love your dad, by the way. Good guy.”

Annnnnd now Abalone was levitating right out of his Bally loafers.

She looked up into those yellow eyes and offered him a shy smile. “Hi.”

“Over there is my twin.” He indicated Z—and Zsadist, ever aware of what he looked like with that scar down his face, stayed way back, lifting his hand as Paradise recoiled. “Zsadist’s mated and has a daughter named Nalla. She’s gorgeous—here’s a picture.”

As Phury flashed his cell phone, the girl looked at the image. Glanced at Z. Went back to the snapshot.

“My baby girl,” Z said in a deep voice. “She’s two, and she got her mahmen’s looks.”

Instantly, the girl relaxed. Then Phury intro’d Vishous, who just nodded, and Butch, who gave her a Bostonian, “Hi, hawre ya!” John Matthew, Blay, and Qhuinn were up next, and then Phury indicated Rhage.

“And Brad Pitt over there is Hollywood.”

He smiled. “Glad you’re here.”

Paradise’s stare stayed on him, her eyes getting big, but not because she was scared. Far from it.

“Yeah, he’s a looker,” someone said. “Until you get to know him.”

“Aww, come now,” Rhage tossed back. “Don’t hate.”

Talk sprang up, with Wrath asking Paradise some questions to get her talking about herself. As the girl refocused on the King, Rhage thought back to before he’d met his Mary. No doubt he would have made a run at that innocent—and would have been successful. He’d had a zero failure rate as he’d controlled his beast by fucking anything and everything that had moved. Which had been good for him. Not so hot for females who’d wanted to keep their virtue.

And he had no doubt Paradise was one of those.

So yeah, he was glad he was meeting her now, when there was absolutely no chance of him getting with her. He had mated his Virgin, just as Vishous had said he would, and his life had been saved.

For some reason, a sick feeling came over him.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he took out his cell phone. Checked his texts.

Trez, the poor bastard, still hadn’t gotten back to him yet. It seemed stupid to bother the guy again, given everything that was on his plate, but it was hard not to reach out one more time.

Rhage wished there was more to be done to help the guy and his Chosen.

He truly did.

* * *

There was no doing any kind of turn signal.

As Layla drove her Mercedes back to the Brotherhood mansion, she had her injured arm propped on the middle console between the seats, a spare jacket wadded up to increase its height and provide some extra cushioning.

The pain was stunning, the kind of thing that was so bad, it registered in her gut.

So no, there was no signaling left or right.

At least there was nobody else out on the country roads this late at night.