The Savior

Of course, the answer to that debate was to get the wound checked out by Doc Jane or Dr. Manello in the clinic, but he was still undecided on that one. The edges of where those teeth had sunk in seemed the same. At least … well, they were mostly the same—

Who the hell was he kidding. The irritation was bigger, the swelling worse, and the pain unrelenting.

Abruptly, he stopped at the top of the stairs. Xhex was standing in front of the open doors of the King’s study, her body fully weaponized with autoloaders and knives, her face pale and tense. Behind her, inside the room, the King was at his desk with Tohr beside him, the pair of males looking out at John as if they weren’t sure whether he was going to need restraining.

What’s going on, he signed.

“I need to talk to you,” Xhex said quietly. “Can we go in here?”

As she nodded over her shoulder, John frowned. What’s it about.

Not a question. Jesus, had they found out about the bite? He hadn’t told anyone—

“Murhder.”

He recoiled. Who’s dead? Someone got killed?

“No, the, ah, the male. Murhder.”

John looked back at his King. Then at Tohr, who was, for all intents and purposes, the father figure John had never had. Clearly, the latter had been called in for whatever issue this was.

Without a word—natch—John went over to the doorway and waited. When Xhex followed, they both stepped inside together, and as the doors closed of their own volition, he was aware of an oppressive feeling across his chest.

Up until now, he hadn’t been worried about the former Brother’s re-arrival. But if it had something to do with his female? Especially if she was looking as tense as she was?

“G’head, Xhex,” Wrath muttered as he petted George’s boxy head.

Even the golden retriever looked nervous, although that, at least, wasn’t unusual.

“I have to go out tonight,” she said as she stared John straight in the eye. “And help Murhder with a problem.”

Okaaaaaay, John thought.

Generally speaking, bonded males didn’t like their females being around members of the opposite sex. And that was a nice way of putting the issue. John had never subscribed much to the truism, however, believing that he and Xhex were part of a new generation of vampires that didn’t fall into that macho bullshit.

It was a nice theory.

Unfortunately, it was also one that was thrown right out the fucking window as a curling aggression clenched his nuts and made him want to hunt down and kill a male he’d never met before. Still, he forced himself to think of what Mary always said about emotions. You weren’t responsible for them and you couldn’t control them, but you were in charge of your response to them.

And he refused to be the hothead who went Cro-Magnon on something like this.

John narrowed his eyes. What kind of problem? And why would you be the one helping him?

Xhex cleared her throat. Then she started to pace, her eyes trained on the Aubusson carpet.

“I told you that at one point I had a brush with some humans.”

Brush? he thought. She’d been kidnapped and tortured by researchers in a clinic somewhere.

To this day, he didn’t know many details of what had been done to her—similar to the situation with Lash, she never talked much about the horror of it. He had always wanted to help her, but he’d had no choice except to respect the line she drew and the privacy she kept.

“Murhder took that personally.” She stopped by the fireplace and stared into the yellow and orange flames. “And started some kind of crusade.”

As those warning bells John had tried to bribe off with that all-normal shit went straight-up cathedral on him, he decided he was becoming clairvoyant.

And when she didn’t go any further, he whistled to bring her head up and around. As part of his role as a Brother, right, he signed. He was avenging the species instead of you specifically.

John knew damn well there was more to it, given the pair’s previous relationship, but he tossed that ditty out there in the hopes he was wrong.

“No, it was personal.” She refocused on the fire. “I told you about him and me.”

John exhaled long and slow. Okay, he thought. He could deal with this. This was not new information, for one thing. But more than that, she was with him now.

Xhex continued, “After I escaped from the lab I’d been in, he kept hunting for humans who were experimenting on vampires. I didn’t know he was doing this—not that that’s relevant. Anyway, he found another site with members of the species in captivity. One of them was a pregnant female, and though he tried to get her out, he ultimately failed. After two decades, she reached out to him, and long story short, he’s going to see her tonight. Because of his … instability … it’s not a good idea for him to be out in the world unsupervised, so I’m going with him to see the female. Plus, you know … I get what happened to her.”

John closed his eyes as he thought about the horrible things the two females had in common. Then he looked to Tohr. The Brother had his arms crossed over his tremendous chest, his navy-blue eyes grave, the white streak in his dark hair out of its cowlick because he’d clearly been dragging a hand through the stuff.

“Murhder needs an escort,” Tohr said. “And given the fragility of the situation, it does make sense for Xhex to go with him.”

“The female has been through a lot,” Xhex said. “And so has Murhder.”

Okay, and I’m going with you, too, John signed. Give me ten minutes to shower—

“No,” Xhex said. “We don’t need anyone else.”

John narrowed his eyes. The hell you don’t. And I’m not pulling a bonded male thing here. If Murhder is so unstable that he’s been kicked out of the Brotherhood, and you don’t trust him to go see a female alone, why do you think it’s okay for you to be the only one on backup?

“She won’t be,” Tohr interjected. “The Brotherhood will be on standby in the area. He puts one foot out of line and we’ll be all over him.”

All right. So then I’ll be with the Brotherhood.

“We’re good, John,” Tohr said as he shook his head. “We’ve got this.”

One more on the fringes is not going to hurt.

When Tohr didn’t respond, John trained his eyes on Xhex, and waited for her to speak up. Surely she’d want him there. Surely she’d understand how badly he wanted to be there.

When his mate just went back to staring at the fire, John looked at Wrath. The King was sitting tall on his throne, his wraparounds hiding his eyes, his jaw clenched—but when was that mandible ever relaxed?

I’m not going to attack the guy, John signed. If that’s what you people are worried about. Bonded male or not, I can control myself. And if he throws shit at me, I’ll handle it.

When Tohr didn’t translate to the King, John motioned toward Wrath and stamped his foot. After a moment, Tohr dropped his head and murmured to the great male.

Say something, John thought at the King. Tell them they have to let me go because I’m a damn good fighter and this is my mate and I deserve to be there. This may be Brotherhood business, but it involves my shellan, so it’s mine, too.

As silence stretched out, somebody laughed outside in the hall, and then there were voices, muffled but distinct enough for him to recognize. Rhage, it was Rhage. And he was talking with Qhuinn, no doubt as they both hit the stairs to go down for First Meal.