Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11)(101)
Author: J.R. Ward

Invisibility.

He wasn’t sure whether they could actually engage while in that state, but it didn’t matter. Anyone who broke in here – like, say, the Band of f**king Bastards – would make an engagement assessment that included only the visible hard bodies in the room.

Not those two brothers.

So this was good.

At that moment, V returned with Phury and Z from their walk-around – and Butch was with them, suggesting the Brother had just arrived via car. "Clear."

There was a brief pause. And then, as prearranged, Tohr went to the front door and opened the way in for Wrath.

Showtime, Blay thought, his eyes flicking in Qhuinn’s direction before he snapped himself back into focus.

Tohr and the king entered the dining room side by side, their heads together as if they were in deep conversation about something important, the Brother’s hand on Wrath’s forearm like the guy was trying to drive some point home.

It was all an act for the host and hostess.

Tohr was, in fact, leading Wrath by that hold on the arm, taking him over to the fireplace, positioning him right in the middle of the mantelpiece. And that conversation? It was about where the two aristocratic hosts were sitting, where the chairs were aligned, where the Brothers and the fighters were – and the two Shadows as well.

While Wrath nodded, the king deliberately moved his head around as if his keen eyes were taking the details of the room in. And then he acknowledged the host and hostess as they were brought forward to kiss his huge black diamond ring.

After that, the creme de la creme of the glymera began to arrive.

From his assigned spot at the back of the room by the wall of windows, Blay got a good look at each one. Jesus, he could remember some of them from his life back before the raids, before he’d started living at the mansion and fighting with the Brothers. His parents had not been on a par with these males and females, but rather on the periphery – still, his family’s bloodlines had been good ones, and they had been included in many festival celebrations at the big houses.

So these folks were not unknown to him.

But he sure as hell couldn’t say he’d missed them.

In fact, he had to laugh to himself as a number of the females frowned and looked down to their delicately clad feet, Louboutins being lifted and shaken…as if the chill of the Shadows were registering.

When Havers arrived, the race’s healer looked a little frazzled. No doubt he was nervous about seeing his sister again, and he had reason to be. From what Blay understood, Marissa had kicked his ass across the room at the last formal meeting of the Council.

Blay was sorry he’d missed that one.

Marissa arrived shortly after her brother, and Butch went over to her, greeting her with a lingering kiss before leading her, with a proud and protective arm, to a seat in the corner right next to where he was stationed. After the cop helped her into her chair, he stood beside her, big, broad, and mean-looking…especially as he locked eyes with Havers and smiled with fangs bared.

Blay found himself envying the couple a little. Not about the familial estrangement, for sure. But God…to be able to be seen with your mate in public, show your love for them, have your relationship respected by everyone else? Heterosexual couples took that for granted because they never knew anything different. Their unions were sanctioned by the glymera, even if the pairs were not in love, or were cheating on each other or were otherwise a fraud.

Two males?

Hah.

Just one more reason to resent the aristocracy, he supposed. Although in reality, he had the sense he wasn’t going to have to worry about being discriminated against. The male he wanted was never going to stand beside him in public, and not because Qhuinn gave a shit about what people thought. One, the guy wasn’t demonstrative like that. And two, sex did not a couple make.

Otherwise that bastard would be engaged to half of Caldwell, FFS.

Oh, what was he saying.

He was long over that Qhuinn pipe dream thing.

Really.

Totally –

"Shut it," he muttered to himself as the last of the Council arrived.

Rehv didn’t waste any time. Every second that Wrath was in front of this group, the king was not only mortally exposed, but also running the chance that his blindness would somehow be ferreted out.

The symphath king addressed the Council, his purple gaze scanning the crowd, a sly smile on his face – like maybe he was enjoying the fact that this group of know-it-alls had no clue that a sin-eater was leading them. "I hereby call this meeting of the Council to order. The date and time are…"

As the preamble continued, Blay kept his eyes busy, checking out the backs of the males and females, where the arms and hands were, whether anyone was twitchy. Naturally, the group had turned out in black tie and velvet, with jewels on the females, and gold pocket watches on the males. Then again, it had been a long time since they’d been together formally, and that meant that their desire to compete with one another for the social upper hand had no doubt suffered from grossly insufficient airtime.

"…our leader, Wrath, son of Wrath."

As polite applause sounded, and the crowd straightened in their chairs, Wrath took a single step forward.

Man, blind or not, he certainly appeared to be a force of nature: Even though he wasn’t dressed in some kind of ermine-trimmed robe, the king was irrefutably in charge, his massive body and long dark hair and black wraparounds making him more menace than monarch.

And that was the idea.

Leadership, especially when it came to the glymera, was based in part upon perception – and no one could deny that Wrath looked like a living, breathing representation of power and authority.

And that deep, commanding voice didn’t hurt, either.

"I recognize that it has been a long time since I’ve seen you. The raids of nearly two years ago decimated a lot of your families, and I share in your pain. I, too, lost my bloodline in a lesser raid, so I know exactly what you’re going through as you try to get your lives back on track."

A male down in front shifted in his chair….

But it was only a change in position, not the prelude to a weapon coming out.

Blay eased back on his stance, as did several others. Goddamn, he couldn’t wait to get through this meeting and have Wrath back home safe.

"Many of you knew my father well, and remember his time in the Old Country. My sire was a wise and temperate leader, a gentlemale of logical thinking and regal bearing who occupied himself solely with the betterment of this race and its citizenry." Wrath paused, those wraparounds making a circle of the room. "I share a few of my father’s characteristics…but not all. In fact, I am not temperate. I am not forgiving. I am a male of war, not of peace."