The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(39)

But he was not suicidal. “What are they, Payne,” he gritted out.

The female’s voice was a low growl right in his ear. “We both know that you can get out of this if you choose to. In the blink of an eye, you can overpower me—you more than proved it back in the gym.”

“And the second?”

“If I got to you once, I can do it again. And maybe next time I won’t waste my breath trying to prove the fact that I’m your equal.”

“I am the King, you realize.”

“And I’m the daughter of a deity, motherf*cker.”

With that, she released him and stepped back.

Covering his genitals with his hands, he turned to face her. He’d never seen what Payne looked like, but he’d been told that she was built along the lines of her brother, tall and powerful. Apparently, she had the same jet-black hair and those pale, icy eyes, too—and the intelligence was something he could judge for himself.

She also, evidently, had the balls.

“I can kill you,” she said, grimly. “Anytime I want. And I don’t need a conventional weapon, either. You are stronger, yes—I give you that. But there are things I am capable of that you can’t imagine.”

“Then why didn’t you use them.”

“Because I don’t want to put you in a grave. You are needed here. You are critical for the race.”

Goddamn throne. “So what you’re saying is that you would have let yourself die back in the gym?”

“You weren’t going to murder me.”

Oh, yes, I was, he thought with self-disgust. “Look, Payne, we can go around in circles about this for the next year and a half and it would get us nowhere. I’m not sparring with you again. Ever.”

“You don’t honestly expect me to accept an argument based on my sex.”

“No, I expect you to respect my relationship with your brother.”

“Don’t pull that old-school BS with me. I am of maturity, and mated at that. I don’t subscribe in any way to my brother having some kind of dominion over me—”

He jerked forward on his hips. “Fuck that. Vishous is my brother. Do you have any idea what it would do to him if I killed you?” He gestured with one hand to his head. “Can you get off your high horse for one second and consider that? Even if I didn’t give a rat’s ass about you, do you think I would do that to him?”

There was a pause, and he had the sense she was going to respond. But when nothing came back at him, he cursed.

“And yeah, you’re right,” he hedged. “You fight well enough to be a Brother—and I sparred with them for years, so I should know. I’m not stopping this because you’re a frickin’ girl. It’s for the same reason Qhuinn and Blay can’t go out into the field together, and why Xhex, if she ever decided to fight with us, wouldn’t be allowed to be on the same squad as John. It’s why Doc Jane wouldn’t operate on your brother or you. Some things are just too close, feel me?”

Against that rushing backdrop of the running water, he heard her walk around, her bare feet nearly soundless on the tiles.

“If you were his brother instead of his sister,” Wrath said, “it would be the same. The problem is me, not you—so do yourself a favor and get off this feminist pulpit you’re on. It’s boring me.”

A little harsh, maybe. But he’d already proven that being civilized was outside his wheelhouse at the moment.

More silence. Until Wrath almost threw his hands up in frustration—but remembered his hey-nannies didn’t need to be on parade. “Come on, Payne. I can totally appreciate your pride being injured. Except I want you living and breathing more than I care about your feelings getting hurt.”

There was another long stretch of quiet. But she hadn’t left—he could sense her presence almost as if he could see her: She was right across the tile from him, standing between him and the exit.

“You believe you would not have stopped,” she said roughly.

“No.” He closed his eyes, regret stinging his chest. “I know it. And like I said, that part has nothing to do with you. So please, for the love of God, drop this and let me finish my shower.”

When there was no more conversation, Wrath felt his temper start to boil again. “What.”

“Let me ask you something.”

“Can’t this wait until—”

“The Brothers spar together, correct.”

“No. They’re too busy taking off-duty knitting classes.”

“So why don’t they work out with you anymore?” Her voice got lower. “Why don’t you keep sharp with them? Did it change after you took the throne?”

“After I went completely blind,” he bit out. “It changed then. Do you want an exact date?”

“I wonder if I asked around whether people would agree with that.”

“Are you suggesting I can actually see.” He bared his fangs. “Seriously.”

“No, I’m questioning whether your brothers would have gone to the mat with you once you properly assumed the crown upon your brow. I have a feeling that answer would be no.”

“You want to explain why this is relevant,” he cut in. “Because your other option is to watch me lose my shit again—and we both know how much fun that was the first time.”