Yeah, and when was the last time he'd lived up to his pedigree?
Rhage appeared in front of him. The vampire was wearing a long black trench coat over his leathers, and the contrast with his fair-haired beauty was no doubt a stunner. It was well-known that the brother used his looks against the opposite sex mercilessly, and that after a night of fighting, his favorite way to wind down was with a female. Or two.
If sex were food, Rhage would have been morbidly obese.
But he wasn't just a pretty face. The warrior was the best fighter the brotherhood had, the strongest, the quickest, the surest. Born with an overload of physical power, he preferred to meet lessers bare-handed, saving the daggers only for the end. Maintained that it was the only way to get any job satisfaction. Otherwise, the fights didn't last long enough.
Of all the brothers, Hollywood was the one the young males in the species talked about, worshiped, wanted to be. Except that was because his fan club only saw the glossy surface and the smooth moves.
Rhage was cursed. Literally. He'd gotten himself in some serious trouble right after his transition. And the Scribe Virgin, that mystical force of nature who oversaw the species from the Fade, had given him one hell of a punishment. Two hundred years of aversion therapy that kicked in whenever he didn't keep himself calm.
You had to feel sorry for the poor bastard.
“How we doing tonight?” Rhage asked.
Wrath closed his eyes briefly. A blurry image of Beth's body arching, caught as he'd looked up from between her legs, sliced through him. As he pictured himself tasting her again, his hands curled into fists, his knuckles cracking.
I'm hungry , he thought.
“I'm good to go,” he said.
“Hold up. What's that?” Rhage demanded.
“What's what?”
“That expression on your face. And Christ, where's your shirt?”
“Shut up.”
“What the… I'll be damned.” Rhage laughed. “You got some grind tonight, didn't you?”
Beth was not a grind. No way, and not only because she was Darius's daughter.
“Zip it, Rhage. I'm not in the mood.”
“Hey, I'm the last one to criticize. But I gotta ask, was she any good? Because you don't look particularly relaxed, my brother. Maybe I need to teach her a few things and then have her give you a try again—”
Wrath calmly introduced Rhage's back to the wall, almost taking out a mirror with the male's shoulders. “You will shut the shut up or you will be six inches shorter. Your pick, Hollywood.”
His brother was just playing, but there was something unholy about taking that experience with Beth and getting it anywhere near Rhage's sex life.
And maybe Wrath was feeling just a little possessive.
“Have we made our choice?” he drawled.
“I'm feeling you.” The other vampire grinned, his teeth a flash of white in his striking face. “But come on, lighten up. You don't usually waste time with the females, and I'm just glad to know you got off, that's all.”
Wrath let go.
“Although Jesus, she couldn't have been all that—”
Wrath unsheathed a dagger and buried the thing into the wall an inch from Rhage's skull. The sound of steel punching through plaster had a nice ring to it, he thought.
“You do not push me on this one. Got it?”
The brother nodded slowly as the dagger handle vibrated next to his ear. “Ah, yeah. I'm thinking we're clear on that.”
Tohrment's voice cut through the tension. “Whoa! Rhage, you been poppin' shit again?”
Wrath stayed still for one more moment, just to make sure the message had gotten through. Then he yanked the knife out of the wall and stepped back, prowling around the room as the other brothers arrived.
When Vishous came in, Wrath took the warrior aside. “I want you to do me a favor.”
“Name it.”
“Human male. Billy Riddle. I want you to work your computer magic. I need to know where he lives.”
V stroked his goatee. “He in town?”
“I think so.”
“Consider it done, my lord.”
When they were all there, even Zsadist, who'd graced them with being on time, Wrath got the ball rolling.
“What do we have from Strauss's phone, V?”
Vishous whipped off his Sox cap and dragged a hand through his dark hair. He spoke as he repositioned the hat. “Our boy liked to hang with muscleheads, military wannabes, and Jackie Chan fans. We've got calls to Gold's Gym, a paint-ball arena, two martial-arts places. Oh, and he liked cars. There was a mechanics shop in the log, too.”