Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11)(102)
Author: J.R. Ward

At this, Wrath unsheathed one of his black daggers, the dark blade flashing in the light of the crystal chandelier overhead. Out in front of the king, the crowd of highfliers reacted with a collective shiver.

"I am very comfortable with conflict, be it of the legal or mortal kind. My father was a mediator, a bridge maker. I am a grave maker. My father was a persuader. I am a taker. My father was a king who would willingly sit at your dinner tables and converse with you about minutiae. I am not that male."

Yeah, whoa. The Council had no doubt never been addressed like this. But Blay couldn’t disagree with the approach. Weakness was not respected. Moreover, with this group, law alone probably wasn’t going to keep Wrath’s throne stable anymore.

Fear, on the other hand?

Much better chance.

"My father and I do have one thing in common, however." Wrath angled his head down, as if he were staring at the black blade. "My father caused the deaths of eight of your relations."

There was a collective gasp. But Wrath didn’t let that slow him up.

"Over the course of my father’s reign, there were eight attempts on his life, and no matter how long it took, whether it was days, weeks, or even months, he made it his business to find out who was behind each…and he hunted the individuals down personally, and killed them. You may not have heard the true stories, but you will know of the deaths – the perpetrators were beheaded with the tongues removed. Surely, as you cast your mind back, you can recall members of your bloodlines who were interred that way?"

Fidgeting. Lot of fidgeting. Which suggested memories had been jogged.

"You will further recall that those deaths were attributed to the Lessening Society. I say unto you now, I know the names, and I know where the graves are, because my father made sure I memorized them. It was the first lesson in kingship he ever taught me. My citizenry is to be honored, protected, and served well. Traitors, on the other hand, are a disease to any lawful society and need to be eradicated." Wrath smiled in a purely evil way. "Say what you will about me, I studied well at the foot of my father. And let us be clear – my father, not the Brotherhood, was the one who attended those deaths. I know because he beheaded four of them in front of me. That was how important the lesson was."

Several of the females moved closer to whatever male happened to be seated beside them.

Wrath continued. "I will not hesitate to follow my father’s lead in this. I recognize that you all have suffered. I respect your trials and I want to lead you. I will not, however, hesitate to treat any insurgency against me and mine as the act of a traitor."

The king lowered his chin, and appeared to glare out from behind the wraparounds, to the point that even Blay felt a frisson of adrenaline.

"And if you think what my father did was violent, you haven’t seen a goddamn thing yet. I will make those deaths look merciful. I swear on my lineage."

Chapter Fifty-two

On some level, Assail could not believe he was walking into a restaurant. For one, he didn’t frequent human haunts as a rule, and two, he had no interest in eating in the dive: The air smelled like fried food and beer, and from what he saw on the trays of the waitresses, he was uncertain whether the entrees were graded safe for non-animal consumption.

Oh, look. Across the way, there was a stage that had a wall of chicken wire in front of it.

Classy.

"Well, hello, there," someone purred at him.

Assail cocked an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. The human woman was dressed in a tight shirt and a pair of blue jeans that had clearly been stitched onto her legs. Hair was blond and stick straight. Makeup was heavy, with the lipstick shiny enough to qualify as an exterior oil paint.

He’d rather spoon his own eyes out then engage in any fashion with the likes of her.

He willed her to forget she’d seen him and turned back around. There was a heavy crowd, with more people than there were tables and chairs, so he had good cover as he went over to a corner and scanned….

And there she was.

His little burglar.

Cursing under his breath, he dimly recognized the waste of time this all was – especially given that the cousins were, at this very moment, making a deal with that lesser again. Unfortunately, however, as soon as he’d gotten an alert that that black Audi of hers had gone on the move, he’d been compelled to find the thing and follow it.

He had not been prepared for this.

Whatever was she doing here? And why was she dressed like that?

As she found one of the few empty tables and sat down alone, he found himself not approving of the way her hair was down around her shoulders, the dark weight curling about her face. Or the formfitting shirt that was revealed as she took off her coat. Or – she had makeup on, too, for godsakes. And not like that woman who had just oiled her way up to him. His burglar had kept things light, in a way that magnified her features….

She was beautiful.

Too beautiful.

All the men in the restaurant were looking her over. And that made him want to kill each and every one of them by ripping their throats out with his teeth –

As if they were in agreement with that plan, his fangs tingled and began to descend into his mouth, his body tensing.

But not yet, he told himself. He needed to find out why she was here. After having followed her to Benloise’s mansion, he had expected any number of destinations…although never this. What was she doing –

Her head turned, and for a moment, he thought she had somehow sensed him, even though she was not a vampire.

But then a very tall, very well-built human man approached her table.

His burglar looked up at the guy. Smiled at the guy. Got to her feet and wrapped her arms around the guy’s big shoulders.

Assail’s hand went into his coat and found his gun.

Indeed, he saw himself going over and putting a bullet between the man’s eyes.

"Hey, you ever been here before?"

Assail’s head cranked around. A rather large human male had approached him and was staring at him with a certain aggression.

"I asked you a question."

There were two responses, Assail decided. He could verbally reply, thus entering into some kind of dialogue that would consume his attention – arguably not a bad idea, given that his hand remained locked on his gun, and his impulses had not shifted from those of a homicidal inclination.

"I’m talking to you."

Or he could…

Assail bared his descended fangs and growled deep in his throat, redirecting his wrath away from the scene of his burglar with that human fool for whom she had dressed and made herself up.

The guy with the questions threw up his hands and took a step back. "Hey, it’s cool, whatever. My bad. Whatever."