He really did have resting murder face, didn’t he.
Her eyes followed what would have been his gaze if he’d had any sight, and she tried to see what he was paying so much attention to—
“Me.” Her forefinger hovered over a blurry image of herself all the way in the back. “You found me in the crush of males and females. You were focused on…me. And I remember that sweater.”
It was similar to the one Rahvyn had been wearing tonight, an Irish knit made by Cormia, and she wondered what had happened to the thing. Maybe it was still in the closet up at the mansion in the First Family’s quarters. Probably.
“And you came over and found me right after this, didn’t you.”
She hadn’t known he’d been watching her, but she definitely remembered what happened next. Wrath had approached her, put his arm around her waist, and after a few congenial words to the females she’d been talking to, he’d piloted her away from the party. The event had been held in a celebration hall owned by the species, and there’d been an extensive basement.
They’d had sex in a utility closet on the lower level, with the mops and the empty buckets on wheels, next to containers of floor cleaner the size of beer kegs and stacks of folded rags. She could remember holding on to his heavy shoulders and dropping her face into the crook of his neck as he pumped hard and fast. His hair had draped over her as he’d thrust until he came inside of her, and she’d had to bite the lapel of his leather jacket to keep from yelling his name.
There had been Brothers outside in the corridor, after all. She hadn’t seen them or particularly thought about it at the time…but they’d definitely been there.
They’d always been there.
Those males had been like ghosts, moving through those festivals on the fringes, and though she hadn’t noticed it then, she realized in retrospect that they’d never brought their females, never enjoyed the celebrations. They’d only watched over herhellrenand herself.
Prepared to die for him. For her.
And meanwhile, she and Wrath had had a stolen moment in that basement.
Taking the picture out of its little four-corner tether, she brought the glossy Kodak photograph up closer. Squinting, she wished she had a magnifying glass....
“And there you all are.”
Vishous was in the far background, standing next to a closed door. She could make out his Boston Red Sox hat, his goatee, and the hand-rolled he’d brought to his lips with his gloved hand. Next to him, Phury was grim, his long, multi-colored hair looking so lush in comparison to his hard eyes and locked jaw. And there were others. Zsadist in the other corner. And Butch hovering by the buffet. And Rhage by the bar.
They’d been heavily armed. And definitely not there to enjoy themselves.
With a hand that started shaking, she dragged the heavy weight of the previous album back over. Flipping to the photograph where Wrath had been swinging her around, she ignored the pair of them.
Rhage and Phury were standing on the periphery, their faces locked into masks, their leather jackets open, a hand tucked inside—no doubt on their gun or a dagger. Butch and Vishous were at a right angle to them, in the same positions. And this was even after every person going to the festival had been registered, double-checked, and sent through metal detectors just to get into the place. There had been guards outside, too. Zsadist and Tohr.
And meanwhile, she and Wrath had been dancing. Or talking with the civilians.
It was as something was tickling the edges of her awareness that she smelled chocolate chip cookies.
Lifting her head, she breathed in deep just as the pull-down stairs started to creak with someone coming up them.
“Now, those smell good.” She put a smile on her face for Rahvyn. “You know, I should be making more progress, but these albums are incredible—”
It wasn’t the mysterious female who’d been called into a staff meeting as soon as they’d arrived.
Rhage’s head popped through the access box cut into the attic floor, and whereas of all the Brothers, he’d be the first that she’d mention something like old pictures to, the expression on his face was so composed. So professionally fucking…composed.
Her whole body immediately started trembling. “What.”
If Wrath was dead, all of the Brotherhood came, she told herself. She’d lived that nightmare before.
Except whatever this was…it was bad. Very bad.
Beth held the picture she’d taken out to her heart. “Tell me,” she croaked.
“Wrath’s gone. We have no idea where he is.”
Chapter Six
