The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #13)(48)

Like he was really going to f*cking care what he drank.

The grand staircase was a piece of cake, and he was not surprised to find the King’s study empty as Wrath spent most of his nights out meeting with his civilians. Making the turn toward the hall of statues, he pared off before all that marble and opened the door to the stairs that took him up to the third floor.

The First Family’s suite of rooms was hidden behind a bank vault, but his room and his brother’s were right out in the open, just two normal doors close together.

In spite of the argument with Selena, he wasn’t going to bolt to the Commodore. He wanted to be on site in case she …

Yeah.

Closing himself in, he put his three new best friends on the bedside table, and turned on the lamp. The velvet drapes were drawn, and he left them that way as he continued on to the bathroom, shedding his clothes. With a crank of the showerhead, he got the water rolling, and he was careful to leave the lights off.

No reason to meet his own eyes in the mirror.

He waited until things got steamy before stepping into the marble enclave. He’d had more than enough of things that were uncomfortable, thank you very much.

Soap—everywhere. Rinse—everywhere. Shampoo—on his head, followed by conditioner. Razor—on his jaw, his chin, his cheeks.

Then it was a case of out with the towel and naked into his bed.

He got under the covers from habit, his brain studiously checking out of absolutely all thought, only common practice driving him to a place and situation where he could get drunk horizontally.

Cracking the lid on the Grey Goose, he took a good pull and ground his molars as the burn fired down his throat and lit up his gut like Fenway Park.

As V would have said.

How in the hell had the night ended up like this.

iAm was not about to waste time with shAdoWs, The Iron Mask or Sal’s. Screw that. There was more than enough competent staff at all three to take care of business. He’d just told his brother the lie because he didn’t want Trez even more freaked out.

Materializing on the terrace of their condo, he glanced at his watch and then went inside. Pacing around, he turned on some lights, checked the refrigerator even though he knew there was nothing much in it, and poked around the cabinets.

He hadn’t eaten since … Sal’s the night before, actually. And he hadn’t fed in … shit, he didn’t know how long.

Probably needed to handle that, but as always, he had little interest in the vein. Not that he didn’t appreciate and respect the Chosen who served him and his brother. He just didn’t like the whole business of sucking at someone’s wrists when she was a stranger. Yeah, yeah, duty, whatever.

Guess he was far more Shadow-ish than his brother.

In their culture, anything physical like that was sacred. Which sucked, because biological necessity forced him to feed probably six times a year, and every time he did, it was an exercise in self-discipline—and not because he wanted to bang whoever it was.

He was, at his ripe old age, still a virgin.

He blamed the celibacy on the shit with Trez, and the teachings and traditions of his kind, which he sometimes felt like he took waaaaay too seriously— Wow. He was so wound that he was talking to himself.

About shit he already knew.

Which wasn’t even that interesting to begin with.

He paced around. Checked his watch again and then looked to the terrace. Where the f*ck was— “That you?”

iAm wheeled around at the male voice that came from the bedrooms. Striding forward to the hall, he palmed his forty, but given the inflection? Not much was going to be a problem.

And sure enough, as he rounded the corner into what had been his crib, he found s’Ex stretched out on the bed, the sheets wadded up around his naked body, a double-size bottle of Ciroc nestled in his arms like a baby.

“I thought you were in mourning,” iAm said as he tucked his gun away.

“Am.” s’Ex held up the half-empty bottle. “This is my Kleenex.”

“Doesn’t the Queen want you in the Territory”

“Not really.” The male slashed his hand through the air. “Too embarrassing. I’m okay to f*ck behind closed doors, but out in the open? No good. Course, all woulda been forgiven if the chart’d been right. But no.”

iAm leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “How long have you been here?”

“Since you left—was it last night? You need more liquor up in here. When can you bring it? And I want some females.”

iAm’s first instinct was to tell the guy to go screw. Natch. But he needed something from the bastard.

“I can make that happen,” he said.

s’Ex closed his eyes and rolled his hips under the sheets. “When.”

“You gotta do something for me first.”

Those lids lifted slowly, and the black eyes glittered. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Actually, it does.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” iAm held that gaze steadily. “I need to get into the palace.”

s’Ex shut his piehole. Then he shoved his tremendous torso upright, the covers falling down, pooling at his waist. In the light from the bathroom, the tattoos that covered every inch of his flesh glowed like they were fluorescent against his dark skin.