you come with me to the Audience House? We had a strange voicemail during the day, and we’re following up on it. A lot of the guys are already there. I’m just running a little late.”
John nodded. Like, a hundred times.
Then he nearly skipped his way to the door out into the vestibule, all full of the joys of spring in spite of it being January. And he would have Easter Bunny’d it out of the mansion—except the sense that he was being watched made him quit the fun-and-games. Just as Tohr opened things for them to leave, John glanced into the billiard room.
Past the pool tables, over by one of the leather sofas, a tall figure stood in the shadows. Staring his way.
A shiver went through him.
“John?” As he jumped, Tohr said, “Is there something wrong?”
John shook his head and walked through the vestibule, doing the duty on the heavy outer door. As he and Tohr emerged into the night, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate to dematerialize. The fact that Tohr ghosted out first was not a surprise.
Why had Lassiter been looking at him like that?
The blond-and-black fallen angel was rarely serious. And certainly never in the shadows.
Casting off an eerie sense of foreboding, he forced himself to calm down …
… and soon enough was flying through the cold air in a scatter of molecules, zeroing in on the gracious old house that Wrath held his meetings with civilians in. Tohr was waiting for him around back as John re-formed, and they both went into the kitchen.
“Oh, yeah, danish,” the Brother said as he headed over to a silver tray set on the counter. “I need some danish right now.”
As Tohr helped himself to four of the cherry ones intended for the waiting room, John had to smile. He had a feeling that the Brother had missed First Meal and was “a little late” for exactly the same reason John had been.
Sometimes, a male just needed alone time with his female. And after all the ridiculous stress lately?
John reached across his chest and massaged his shoulder. There was some residual stiffness where the wound had been, but the infection was gone, as far as Doc Jane and Manny were concerned. No more discoloration. And the puckering that had appeared as the retreat had intensified had cleared as well.
All thanks to Murhder. And Sarah.
A piercing sadness went through him. It still seemed wrong that they couldn’t stay. But like so much in the Brotherhood world? Not his call.
“You want any?” Tohr asked as he held out his dinner plate full of danish.
When John shook his head, the Brother took one more, thanked the doggen pastry chefs, and together they went down to the dining room. As they approached, deep voices rolled out of the open doors, filling the foyer sure as if the males were actually standing by the front doors.
Tohr went in first.
And then John entered—
Everyone stopped talking and looked over at him. When no one moved, he glanced at Tohr, thinking maybe the Brother had been wrong about the meeting? Maybe it was only for—
“John.”
As the King’s voice rang out, big warrior bodies parted to reveal Wrath sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace.
“Welcome back, son.”
That was when the hugging started. Rhage and Butch. Phury. Blay and Qhuinn, his very good friends. Z gave him a high five, which was a miracle considering that the male didn’t really touch other people all that much. Even Vishous came over and pulled him into a hard, brief embrace.
With each connection, each contact, John felt his face flush more and more. And then the King himself came over, George leading him across the Oriental carpet.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Wrath smiled, revealing enormous fangs. “Things wouldn’t be the same around here without you.”
Funny how it all worked out. John would never have volunteered to get injured as he had. Certainly wouldn’t have chosen to walk the lonely path of mortal disease, finding out what it was like to realize your friends and family were going to keep living without you on the planet. Clearly hadn’t wanted to go through a version of the transition as an adult.
But he’d needed this moment of communion with the Brotherhood. He’d needed this… validation from them.
This you’re-one-of-us-even-if-you’re-not.
And in retrospect, he could understand that with the Murhder stuff, it truly was Brotherhood business. Given all the history that male had with the rest of them? Well, sometimes even the most intimate of