young, we will make sure he has a place in the species.”
“He needs a family,” she heard herself say. And then she thought of the reality that he’d never been outdoors. “Please remember, too, that he has no frame of reference for the world at large or the freedom we all take for granted. He’s been in captivity his entire life. You’re going to have to give him a hell of a lot more than room and board if you want him to come through what was done to him and where he was kept. That is all on you, not him. He’s been through enough.”
The King cracked a smile, flashing enormous white fangs. “I like you.”
“Thanks,” she said with resignation. “I appreciate that.”
“Go back to the training center. Do your goodbyes. And then you have to go.”
“Okay,” Sarah said with a heavy heart. “I will.”
John resumed his corporeal form in the driveway of the Audience House just in time to see Murhder and the human scientist leave out the front door. As they headed down the walkway to Mary’s Volvo, neither of them was saying anything, but they were holding hands, both of them focused on the shoveled snow beneath their feet.
They were not happy, and he could guess why. God, he wished he could help.
Entering through the kitchen in the back, he greeted both of the doggen who were making cupcakes for the waiting room, and then proceeded through to the front hall. There were no civilians hanging out in the parlor on the right, which was kind of a surprise. There was still plenty of night left for Wrath to see people.
But with Murhder here? Accompanied by the human? No doubt the place had been cleared out of an abundance of caution.
The archway into the dining room was open, the doors wide on their brass hinges, and he felt a surge of envy as he looked in. Tohr, V, Rhage, and Butch were clustered around Wrath, the five of them clearly discussing “Brotherhood business.”
Tohr looked up. Smiled. Motioned. “Come on in, John.”
There was a part of him that wanted to no-thank-you the invite. But what point was he proving by that and to who?
Stepping into the dining room, he looked up at the twinkling chandelier, and then down at the fancy Oriental rug, and then over to the sconces and the heavy, closed drapes.
Helluva a long way from that shitty flat he’d been able to afford for himself as a dishwasher.
“How are you?” Tohr phrased the question casually. But his eyes were too direct to carry off the no-BFD. “You look good.”
Well, he’d had a shower before he’d made arrangements to see Beth, Mary, and Bella.
Wrath glanced up even though he couldn’t see. As those nostrils flared, John had a moment of anxiety—and sure enough, those brows disappeared behind the wraparounds.
Could he smell the death, John wondered.
“I heard you were out in the field tonight,” Wrath said. “Not the brightest idea, but I gather you were successful.”
John brought up his hands and signed, Murhder is an incredible fighter. We made a good team.
As Tohr looked away sharply, and V translated into Wrath’s ear, John continued, Why do you all hate him so much?
“Let’s not focus on the past.” Tohr presented a composed face. “I want to know how you’re feeling?”
I came to see you, actually, John signed.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. You want to talk?” When John nodded, Tohr stepped away from the King, from his Brothers, and came across. “Something wrong?”
When Tohr put a heavy arm across John’s shoulders, John kept a wince of pain to himself and let the Brother lead the direction—and soon enough, they were shut in a study that seemed out of an Agatha Christie novel: The oak-paneled room with the crackling fire was exactly the place all the suspects would gather at the end to hear the whodunit conclusion.
He’d learned about Agatha Christie from Mary.
“What’s up?” Tohr took a seat on an oxblood leather sofa. “What can I do to help?”
John paced around. In his mind, when he’d drafted his list of people he wanted to make sure he connected with, he’d envisioned this meeting with Tohr to be all father-son poignant, the pair of them embracing. Sucking back tears. Throwing around all kinds of manly expressions of love and respect, I-was-honored-to-have-been-your-son statements volleying with you-were-the-best-son-I-could-have-had exclamations.
But now that he was here? It was sort of like it had been with the females. He’d wanted to make transcending pronouncements to Beth, Mary,