As soon as he stretched back out on their firm mattress, he closed his eyes because that was what you did when you were negotiating with various vital functions. Especially anything involving your gag reflex.
Swallow. Exhale. Swallow. Inhale—
Someone was coming down the hall on a slow shuffle, and as he caught the scent, it was not a surprise. He was also glad the brother had the energy to come over. What was not so hot? The reason.
Fuckinglessers.
“V…” he murmured.
“We got a problem.”
“Yeah, I know that.” He lifted his lids and told himself to get with the program. “And I can go out and help look, too. I just need a couple of minutes to catch my breath—”
“It’s not about those missing males. Or those that were killed.”
Tohr frowned. Okay, he did not like that tone of voice. At all. “Did you have another one of your visions.”
Not a question. And Lassiter save them from what the brother saw: It was only ever the deaths of people, and if V was bringing it up with both of them feeling so badly?
“So, you didn’t talk to Rhage,” V tossed back.
Tohr searched the brother’s battered face. Even though the bruising and swelling was continuing to bloom, the nose bra he’d been sporting was gone. And there was a hand-rolled in that gloved hand, though unlit out of respect. Another show that V was making the turn in his recovery—or at least trying to.
What sucked? That rank expression.
Damn it, even though his stomach was still rolling, he needed to sit up for whatever this was. “Tell me.”
“Wrath says he’s out of here.” V motioned all around.
“The Wheel?” Why the hell would that matter so much. “Well, if he wants to move back to the mansion, we can—”
“The throne.”
Annnnnnnnnnd cue the sound of brakes locking on hot pavement.
“I’m sorry—what?” Tohr waved a dismissive hand. “No way. Who told you this? Was it Wrath himself or—”
“Rhage first person heard the announcement back at the garage. You and I were out of it. Wrath just said the shit out loudand took off—and evidently, I need to get him a new phone, but who the fuck cares about that.”
Tohr glanced around his mated bedroom. The nineteenth-century landscapes of the Adirondack mountains and lake vistas usually were calming. They didn’t do shit for him, now. Then again, he could have taken two Xanax, put a heating pad on his chest and binge-watchedSpenser for Hire, and he still would have felt like he had a cattle prod up his ass.
“You’re the only one who can talk to him, true,” V concluded.
What the fuck was going on.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if he’s going to want to hear anything about this from any of us.” He rubbed his aching head. “Wait, lemme get this straight. Wrath just looked around at everybody there and dropped this bomb? While you and I were being treated?”
“They said he seemed to be talking mostly to himself. Then he picked up the dog and ghosted out.”
“Jesus, does he expect L.W. to do the job? That male is more of a mess than Wrath was at his age.”
“Which is why you have to talk to him. Real talk, we all knew he was off tonight, right from the start. Not dematerializing? Come on, when has that been a problem for him?” V switched his cigarette back and forth like he was jonesing for a draw on it. “It has to have something to do with the Whestmorel visit. If his job’s getting in the way of her? That’ll do it. He’ll walk over that.”
“Has to be about the visit to that aristocrat’s house,” Tohr agreed.
“I’d kill that fucker again if he weren’t dead.”
“Get in line.” Tohr glanced at his bedside table and debated whether the room temperature ginger ale in his glass was a good thing or not for his stomach. “Assuming it is about Beth, though, they’ll work things out, they always do—hell, she was the one who volunteered him back there to go talk to those parents.And when the two of them are on track again, he’ll come to his senses.”
