The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood #13) - J. R. Ward Page 0,72

ancillary seats in case an audience had a lot of guest ass to accommodate.

“No explosives,” Wrath was saying from one of the armchairs. “No traps.”

V was in the process of lighting up a hand-rolled, and as he exhaled, the scent of Turkish tobacco drifted over. “Hollywood and I went through the place with a fine-toothed comb. They had been there, clearly. Had just left as far as we could tell. But they hadn’t bothered to try to fuck us.”

With his dagger hand, Wrath stroked the boxy blond head of the golden retriever who helped him get around. George, ever adoring of his master, had his face turned to the King, his throat offered freely. “So Throe didn’t lie.”

“Not about that at least,” V muttered.

“Interesting.”

Rhage glanced around at the faces of his brothers. Z and Phury were standing together as they always did. Qhuinn was next to Z, and then Blay and John Matthew, even though the males weren’t members, were beside him. Butch was opposite the King, propping his forearms on top of an armchair and leaning his weight in; V was behind him. Tohr stayed by the door.

“So what next,” Rhage asked.

“We wait.” Wrath bent down further and scratched at the dog’s ruff. “If he’s got shit to stir, he’ll hang himself. The aristocracy will have to be monitored—we need an inside source there. Any ideas?”

At that moment, there was another knock. Tohr put his ear to the panels and then cracked the door. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

Abalone leaned in. “My lord? I’m sorry to intrude, but may I please make the presentation of mine blooded daughter prior to us getting started with tonight’s audiences?”

Wrath gestured the male forward with his free hand. “Yeah. Bring her in.”

Abalone ducked out and there was a hushed conversation. Then he reappeared, ushering in a sapling of a female. With her blond hair, slight build, and long legs, she was on the Arctic Princess spectrum of the fairer sex.

Pretty. Very pretty. Maybe even beautiful—although she didn’t hold a candle to his Mary.

Abalone walked the girl forward, one hand at her elbow, his fatherly pride plumping up his chest. “My esteemed ruler, great King of all—”

“Yeah, yeah, enough with that,” Wrath cut in. “Paradise, I understand you’re moving into my shellan’s and her brother’s house here. Welcome.”

As the black diamond was offered, Paradise bent at the waist, her hands shaking so badly they seemed to shimmer in the light from the chandelier.

“My lord,” she whispered before kissing the stone.

Releasing his hand, she straightened and stared at the floor, her shoulders curling into her chest, her feet locked together.

“You want to meet my dog?” the King asked.

George, ever up for a good head rub, thumped his tail on the floor, the sound like someone was beating a rope into the hardwood.

“Pet him,” Wrath said. “You’re allowed.”

The girl glanced around at the Brotherhood, her eyes sticking to the shitkicker level. And that was when Rhage felt sorry for her. A lot of the aristocracy sat on their females so hard, they were rarely around males they were not related to—so this was no doubt the first time she had been in the same room with so much testosterone.

“G’head, George. Go say hi.”

At Wrath’s urging, the dog padded forward and sat his fluffy butt down right in front of her, his ears pricking, that tail sweeping back and forth.

“Is … he a boy?” she asked softly as she lowered herself to the floor and reached up to all the fur.

“Yup.” Wrath looked up. “All right, assholes, introduce yourselves, will ya? And keep it classy.”

Cue the throat clearing. At least until Phury stepped forward and did the intros. Probably best—he was the closest to a gentlemale they had.

“Glad you’re here,” the Primale said. “I’m Phury—we love your dad, by the way. Good guy.”

Annnnnd now Abalone was levitating right out of his Bally loafers.

She looked up into those yellow eyes and offered him a shy smile. “Hi.”

“Over there is my twin.” He indicated Z—and Zsadist, ever aware of what he looked like with that scar down his face, stayed way back, lifting his hand as Paradise recoiled. “Zsadist’s mated and has a daughter named Nalla. She’s gorgeous—here’s a picture.”

As Phury flashed his cell phone, the girl looked at the image. Glanced at Z. Went back to the snapshot.

“My baby girl,” Z said in a deep voice. “She’s two, and she got her mahmen’s looks.”

Instantly, the girl relaxed. Then Phury intro’d Vishous, who just nodded, and Butch, who gave