Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(142)

Had to have come from Saxton's phone.

Probably typed out on the guy's bed.

Qhuinn tossed his BlackBerry onto his table and stood up. In the

bathroom, he kept the lights out because he was sooo not interested in what he looked like in the jeans and shirt he'd slept in.

Hot mess. No doubt.

As he was washing his face, a subtle whirring sound emanated from

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all around, the shutters rising from the windows. With water dripping off his chin and a can of Barbasol in his mitt, he glanced out into the new night. In the moonlight, the buds on the silver-trunked birches by the window had come out even farther, indicating the day had been a warm one.

He totally ignored any parallel to Blay's being awakened to his own

sexuality.

By Qhuinn's own cousin.

Disgusted with himself, he skipped the razor action and stalked out of his room. Gunning for the kitchen, he went as fast as he dared, given that the barometric pressure in his skull was making him worried about the health and longevity of his optic nerves.

Down in Fritz's fiefdom, he made a pot of coffee as doggen scurried around making First Meal. Good thing they were already so preoccupied.

Sometimes, when you felt like shit inside and out, you wanted to work your own Krups.

Pride mattered in moments like this.

Mind you, first trip through the park, he forgot to add the grounds, so all he got was a nice, steaming pot of clear water.

Once more with feeling.

He was coming out of the dining room with a camping thermos full of

dark brown miracle juice and a bottle of aspirin when the door to the vestibule was opened by Fritz.

The pair who stepped past the good doggen ensured that there was a shitload of Bayer in Qhuinn's immediate future: Blay and Saxton entered the house arm in arm.

For a split second, he nearly growled as possessiveness made him

want to drive his Hummer between the two and park it there--until he

realized their huggy-huggy was evidently for medicinal purposes. Saxton didn't seem too steady on his feet, and his face had clearly been used as a punching bag.

Now Qhuinn growled low for a different reason. "Who f*cking did

that to you."

Couldn't be the guy's own family. Saxton's folks were cool with what

and who he was.

"Tell me," he demanded. And once that question was answered, the pair could follow it up with how in the f*ck Blay thought he could bring an outsider not only into the Brotherhood's seat, but the home of the First Family.

Oh, but number three: How was it? was actually going to stay right where it was. Namely choking his throat.

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Saxton smiled. Sort of. His upper lip wasn't working all that well.

"Nothing but some human trash. Let us not get emotional, shall we?"

"Fuck that. And what the hell are you doing here with him?" Qhuinn stared at Blay and tried not to measure the guy's face for stubble burn. "He can't be in this house. You can't bring him--"

From up above, Wrath's voice cut him off, the king's deep baritone

filling the foyer. "Blay wasn't kidding about you, was he. You got some kind of cracked there, didn't you, son."

Saxton wheezed as he bowed. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, for not

providing a more agreeable presentation. You are most kind to welcome me herein."

"You did me right when it mattered. I return the favor. Always. That being said, you compromise my happy home in any way, I'll slice off your balls and feed them to you."

I love Wrath, Qhuinn thought.

Saxton bowed again. "Understood."

Wrath didn't look down the stairs, his wraparounds remaining straight ahead so that it seemed as if he were staring up at the frescoes on the lofty ceiling. And yet even with his blindness, he missed nothing. "Qhuinn's got coffee, from what I can scent, so that'll help, and Fritz has fired up a bedroom for you. You want something to eat before you feed?"

Feed? Feed?

Qhuinn didn't appreciate being out of the loop, even when it came to

little shit like what was being served for dinner. Saxton, the mansion, Blay, and someone's vein? Yeah, not knowing what was doing with the likes of all that made the tips of his fangs tingle.

Saxton bowed once again. "Indeed, you are a very kind host."

"Fritz, get the male some chow. The Chosen should be arriving very soon."

A Chosen's vein?

Christ, what exactly had Saxton done for the king? Whose ass had he

saved?

"And our physician will see you." Wrath held his palm up. "Nope. I smell the pain you're feeling--it's a combo of kerosene and raw peppers in my sinuses. Now get moving. Take care of yourself and we'll talk later."

As Wrath and George did a wheel-around up on the balcony, Qhuinn

fell into the wake of Fritz's hospitality, walking behind the butler as the guy led a slow ascension of the grand staircase. At the top, the elderly doggen paused in favor of Saxton's limp, whipping out his handkerchief to polish the carved brass curlicues.

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With nothing to do but wait as well, Qhuinn popped open the aspirin

and took a handful, noting that through the open doors of the king's study, John and Xhex were talking to V and Wrath, the four of them standing over a map that was stretched flat on the desk.