taken from a sacred Chosen—something Helania had never heard of anyone doing before—meant he probably could have given her so much more. But she truly cared about and for him, and she would rather go blood hungry than ever endanger his precious, precious life.
When she had taken enough to sustain herself, she licked the puncture wounds closed and then kissed his mouth. And still their bodies moved together, orgasms compounding orgasms, the sex an expression of all the things neither of them seemed to be able to put into words.
There were so many unanswered questions. So many strings yet to be gathered. So many paths diverging before them.
They had this moment, however. And she could only pray it was not their last.
Back when the Band of Bastards had moved in with the Brotherhood at the mansion, the decision had been made to open up a previously closed-off collection of bedrooms. Accessed by going out through the far wall of the second-story sitting room, the footprint of the additional suites extended over the entire kitchen/pantry/laundry wing as well as the garage.
As Butch proceeded down a very nicely appointed hall, he didn’t spare a glance at any of the oil paintings of English landscapes that hung from the paneling, nor did he check out the fresh-even-in-winter flowers on the side tables, nor did he hi-how’re-ya the occasional bust that sat on the ledges under the windows.
He was focused on Fritz. The butler was about three-quarters of the way down, standing in front of a closed door with a quizzical expression on his face.
“Sire?” he said as Butch approached. “The King indicated that he wished for me to unlock this door for you?”
“Yup.”
“The King indicated you were going to inspect the rooms? At my Lord’s direction?”
“Yup. That’s the plan.”
And thank you, Wrath.
Maybe it was the fact that Butch had been a cop in the human system for all those years. Or maybe it was because he felt like he needed to cover his ass to make sure there weren’t any problems in the household. Or maybe he was simply acknowledging his cousin’s position of authority over all matters under this roof—and within the race. But whatever the reason, he’d felt compelled to ask Wrath if it was okay to go through Syn’s shit.
And what do you know, based on Helania’s ID of the Bastard, said permission had been granted.
Butch came to a stop in front of the butler. “I want you to be my witness as I go through everything.”
“Witness?”
“To attest that I didn’t plant anything or otherwise mishandle Syn’s belongings.”
Fritz bowed low. “It is my pleasure to be of service in any way you require.”
“Good deal. Thanks. Now let’s open things up and see what we got.”
The butler inserted a copper key that was nearly the size of his own hand in the lock, and there was a clunking sound as the old-fashioned tumblers disengaged. No creaking hinges. That would never happen in a household run by Fritz.
As the light from the hall streamed into the darkness, Butch frowned at what he saw—or, to be more accurate, what he did not see.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
“This is the way he wishes it to be.”
Butch shook his head as he entered. The room was totally bare. No carpet. No bed. No bedside table or bureaus. No writing desk or side chairs or any of the antique stuff that filled out every other single square inch of the mansion, like Darius had had a binge-shopping addiction that could only be satisfied by Christie’s.
Butch looked over his shoulder. “Where did Syn put everything? The furniture, I mean.”
“He requested that I get rid of it, and so I reapportioned some of the things to other suites, and the rest went into the basement. I offered to order him something more to his taste, but he informed me that, as a soldier in the Old World, he was used to sleeping in hiding-holes and outposts with nothing more than whatever he could carry on his back. Even the most rudimentary of decor made him feel cramped.”
As Butch walked around the bare floorboards, the footfalls of his loafers echoed around the barren walls. “You’re sure that it’s looked like this since he moved in? There’s no chance that in the last forty-eight or seventy-two hours that he came back and cleaned anything out?”
As Fritz’s face fell and he paled, Butch realized what he’d done. Rushing back to the butler, he put his hands out—but then dropped them because