And Wrath was right. This place had to be considered compromised so Whillis was going to go out to the safe house. As for him? With the King mandating that he stay out of the way?
Fine. He’d cool his jets, but it was going to be here.
He was ready to fucking fight.
Down at the end of a hallway that had white marble floors and walls, Beth stopped on the threshold of their son’s room. The bed was messy; the one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets wadded up at the foot of the lawn-sized mattress, three of the pillows on the floor, one shoved up against the headboard. Filling out the floor plan were various pieces of white padded furniture as well as mirrored dressers and tables.
It was like a hotel suite, chic, luxurious, unclaimed by anybody specific.
Just as the living quarters he’d grown up in had been.
“I can smell the blood,” Wrath muttered as he stepped inside.
“Watch the floor.” She followed him in. “There’s…well, actually, I guess there’s not too much clutter underfoot.”
Leathers and leather jackets had been draped over the couch—although not in a haphazard way. L.W. had taken care with his clothes, laying them side by side over the high-rise back, and down along the dust ruffle, shitkickers were lined up as if a ruler had been used: Three pairs, with a space between the second and third as if he’d taken a set from the collection.
And…that was it.
Well, other than a lot of weapons over on a cheap folding table that did not go with the décor—and she had lived with fighters and Brothers for so long, the arrangement of handguns, chains, and grenades didn’t register as a shock at first. It was only when the math that they were her son’s added up that she went sweaty-palmed and nauseous.
Walking over, she crossed her arms and stared down at the deadly array.
“I need to tell you something,” she said roughly.
“The blood’s in here.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she turned away and crossed over to the bathroom. As she transitioned off the white carpeting and onto some kind of fancy black stone, her eyes shot to the black counter.
The pile of red-stained white towels between the two gold sinks nauseated her.
As she debated dry heaving, she pressed her hand to her mouth. Then dropped her arm. “I have to tell you what he’s doing.”
Wrath stretched out a hand and patted around. Picking up one of the terrycloth folds, he crushed it in his fist.
“You think I don’t know.” He glanced over his shoulder as if he could see her. “That he’s huntinglessers, even though I forbade him.”
“That’s what he told me earlier,” she confirmed with defeat. “When I saw him tonight. He’s consumed with anger, Wrath. He always has been…but lately…it’s gotten worse—and it’s going to get him killed.”
Wrath put the towel back where it had been. “That’s the second reason.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry?”
Behind those wraparounds, she could have sworn that those pale-green eyes narrowed on her. “I gave up the throne for you, but he was my second reason. He will be King, and then he won’t be able to fight. He’ll be totally protected and out of the field.”
Abruptly, the past and present funneled into her mind, mixing and expanding until she felt encapsulated by all that she couldn’t change. All she couldn’t manage.
“He’s not going to do it,” she said. “He’s going to refuse to take over. And good luck getting him to leave this house. He’ll figure that sooner or later slayers will show up, and if he knew these males, too? He’s going to want revenge—”
“He isgoingto sit on that throne,” Wrath snapped. Except the frustration wasn’t directed at her.
“No, he won’t.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t respond to calls of duty, and you can try imploring to some sense of loyalty in him, but he’s not motivated by that, either. The only thing that drives him is hatred toward Lash and the Lessening Society. It’s like that’s all he has. God, I failed as a parent. I totally failed—”
“You did not.” Wrath stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I was just like him. Hostile, belligerent—for all the right reasons, and some wrong ones, too, just like he is. But the calling will not be denied.”
“You made that choice freely. When you decided to ascend, that was your decision, not something that was forced.”
“But like him, I never asked to be put in a position to have to choose. And fuck yeah, it’s unfair that he can’t get out of it, either—but that’s the way it fucking goes for this lineage of ours.”
