The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood #13) - J. R. Ward Page 0,211

him.

Letting out his breath, he muttered, “Son of a bitch—”

“But we’re not giving him up.”

iAm’s lids popped wide. “What?”

Wrath braced his powerful arms on the desk and leaned in, baring his fangs. “I don’t respond to threats. And we are prepared to go to war if that’s what it comes down to—but whatever the outcome, I will not deliver that male anywhere. Period.”

As a low growl vibrated through the air, iAm looked around.

He hadn’t cried since the moment Selena had passed, not even when he’d walked out of the back of the house behind his brother to the pyre. It was as if, when the Chosen died, the electrical fuse to that part of him blew under the load that it was having to carry, the center of his chest going lights-out.

Now, though, as he met the steady, aggressive stares of the males in the room, the tears started to roll down his cheeks.

It appeared, after decades of being without a tribe, that he and his brother had found theirs.

These proud warriors, and their females, had adopted two orphans who had been out in the world on their own … and they were prepared to fight to the death to protect what was theirs.

Taking a shuddering breath, he pulled his shit together and shook his head at Wrath, even though the male couldn’t see him. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that—”

“Excuse me?” the King bit out. “I know you aren’t trying to tell me my business.”

“But Shadows are capable of…” He cleared his throat, not wanting to insult them. “You don’t understand what my people can do.”

They had tricks that regular vampires did not.

Wrath smiled with a blood thirst. “Maybe you haven’t met my ally?” As the King swept his hand to the side, he pointed at Rehvenge. “Do I need to make introductions?”

Rehvenge’s amethyst eyes were cold. “As the leader of my people, I am not without resources to call upon—and I assure you, we are more than capable of countering any attack that Queen brings.”

The symphaths, iAm thought. Jesus …

Wrath glanced around the room. “She wants a war? I’ll give her one—and I guarantee that a scorched-earth policy is going to look like a Sunday fucking dinner compared to what I’m prepared to do to her if she tries to take our boy.”

At that, all iAm could do was stand there and blink like a dummy.

God. Damn.

It was enough to almost make him feel sorry for that female.

SEVENTY-FOUR

When iAm materialized on the terrace of the condo at the Commodore about twenty minutes later, he found that the note he’d told Fritz to bring over was still Scotch-taped to the glass. He peeled the thing off, saw that it had been opened and read, and put it away inside his leather jacket.

Then he opened things up, and turned on some lights with his mind.

As the illumination flared, he blinked until his eyes adjusted properly. The cold gusts coming in fluttered the drapes, and even tipped a throw pillow over on the sofa. He did not shut the slider behind himself as he entered.

Taking off his jacket, he paced around.

His conscience was not at peace. Not at all. To have found his tribe, only to have them go to war for him and his brother? That was too much to live with. Yeah, sure, the Brothers were all big boys, and specially trained, and armored up the ass—and they had the symphaths backing them.

But people were going to die.

That was the nature of weaponized conflict.

Whatever the other solution was, he had to find it. Fast—

“iAm?”

As maichen’s voice registered, he wheeled around. “Oh, God, you’re here.”

Without giving the poor female so much as a hi-how’re-ya, he went over and dragged her against him, holding her hard. Even through all the robing, he felt her body, her warmth, her soul, and he drank that in, taking from it the energy he needed.

Pulling back, he removed her hood and clasped her head, bringing her in for a kiss. “Thank God.”

“iAm, what has happened?”

He took her hands urgently. “I need you to listen to me, and listen to me carefully. I want to take you somewhere safe.”

“iAm, I can’t go with you.”

“The Territory is not safe.”

She stilled. Frowned. “Whate’er do you speak of?”

Fucking hell, the last thing he needed was the reality that if he didn’t take care of the no-win situation with the Queen properly, maichen was likely to get injured or killed: Nobody was going to be spared if there