The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,130

his voice, continuing to feed as her eyes reshut.

“That is right,” he murmured. “Take what I provide.”

When he was sure she had settled once more, he glanced down at her hands and frowned. Her nails were … blue.

His father’s hands had been gloved.

“Come back,” he said to the Brother roughly. “I shall call for you.”

Tohrture nodded and walked to the door. Before he left, he said clearly, “Do not allow her to imbibe aught that has not been tasted.”

Poison? Had it been … poison?

As their chamber was shut and relocked, Wrath felt a strange calm come unto him: Strength and purpose returned to him as Anha continued to pull against his vein, the sips turning into proper draws. And the more she took from him, the more that death color faded from her fingers.

After his father’s death, he had been weightless in the world—until she had been brought to him and become his tether not just to the breaths in his chest and the beats of his heart, but his reign as King.

To think that his father might have been taken from him? And then his beloved female?

As he thought of Tohrture’s expression … he knew that there were enemies in his court. Enemies capable of murder.

Anger boiled beneath his surface, changing him in the inside … in the way steel and iron were forged.

“Worry not, my love,” he said, clasping her hand in his. “I shall take care of everything.”

And blood will run like the tears you shed in your pain.

He was King, yes. But first and foremost, he was the hellren of this magnificent female—and ahvenge her he would.

THIRTY-FIVE

“Of all the things they had to be right about…”

As Trez lay flat on the slick floor of his bathroom, he put his forearm over his eyes. He was acutely aware that his cock was deflating, all that meaningless sex he’d had taking the wind out of his sails and then some.

But he was even more clear on who was next to him, naked on the fur rug.

Shit, he had to get that towel back on his hips and—

“Who is ‘they’?”

Grabbing for the terry cloth, he couldn’t even look at Selena. “My people.”

“What are they right about?”

“Why are you still here?”

When he realized what that sounded like, he sat up—and caught her recoil. “Sorry—I just mean, how are you putting up with my crap.”

Goddamn, she was utterly edible sitting there, that robe covering nothing but her shoulders, her breasts still peaked, her legs arranged so that if he moved just a little, he could see her …

Selena pulled the draping across herself—and as much as it pained him, it was the right thing on so many levels. He had ruined what had been happening between them.

But for the right reasons.

“I’m sorry,” he said, thinking that he should have that tattooed on his forehead so he saw it in the mirror every morning, every night.

He should never have taken things as far as they’d gone. Ever.

“For stopping?”

“No, I’m not sorry about that.” As she winced, he wanted to kick himself in the balls. “What I mean is … fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.”

There was a long silence. And then she said calmly. “You need to know that there is nothing you can’t tell me.”

“Be careful with that—Pandora’s box is hard to close.”

“Nothing.” Her eyes were totally clear as she stared over at him. “I have nothing to fear—from you or by you. I do think you owe me an explanation, however. Assuming that you have no intention of continuing—and if only so that I do not blame myself for this.”

Wow, okay. If he’d thought she was hot before? Now, she was in goddess territory: Physical beauty was one thing; having a spine was even more attractive.

And she had a point.

“All right,” he said, feeling like a total reject. But she did have a right to know. “I’ve fucked a lot of human females in the last ten years—and none of that mattered to me until tonight with you. And I think I’m about to condemn my parents to a torturous death. Other than that, I’m fine.”

Her brows rose. But she didn’t recoil; she didn’t run. There were a number of deep breaths, however. “Maybe we’ll just take the second half of that first. What on the Scribe Virgin’s Earth are you talking about?”

“It’s a fucking mess—I’m a mess.”

She waited, clearly expecting him to continue. “And you have told me nothing.”

Staring into her eyes, he felt such