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Mr. X knelt down. “The rest of you will leave. Now. We will reconvene tomorrow morning, when you will have better news for me. Mr. O, you stay.”

When O defied the order and made a move to get up, Mr. X froze the man in the chair, stealing control of the large muscles in his body. O seemed momentarily shocked, clearly trying to fight the hold that was on his arms and legs.

It was a battle he wouldn’t win. The Omega always provided a few extra benefits to the Fore-lesser. This kind of mental dominion over fellow slayers was one of them.

As soon as the room had emptied, Mr. X took out a knife and stabbed M in the chest. There was flare of light and then a popping sound as the lesser disintegrated.

Mr. X glared up at O from the floor. “If you ever pull something like that again, I will turn you over to the Omega.”

“No, you won’t.” In spite of his being at another’s mercy, O’s arrogance was unchecked. “You wouldn’t want to look as if you can’t control your own men.”

Mr. X stood up.

“Careful, O. You underestimate the Omega’s affection for sacrifices. If I were to give you to him as a gift, he would be most grateful.” Mr. X walked over and ran a finger down O’s cheek. “If I were to tie you down and call him to you, he would enjoy unwrapping you. And I would enjoy watching it.”

O snapped his head back, more angry than frightened. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m your leader. I can do anything I want with you.” Mr. X clamped a hand on O’s jaw and forced his thumb in between the man’s lips and teeth. He jerked the lesser’s face forward. “So mind your manners, don’t ever take another society member out without my express permission, and we’ll get along fine.”

O’s brown eyes burned.

“Now what do you say to me?” Mr. X murmured, reaching out and stroking the man’s hair back. The color was a deep, rich chocolate.

O mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you.” Mr. X pressed his thumb into the soft, fleshy plot under O’s tongue, digging in until tears formed in the other man’s eyes. When he removed his grip, he ran a quick, wet caress over O’s lower lip. “I said, I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, sensei.”

“Good boy.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Marissa could not get comfortable in her bed. No matter which way she turned or where she put the pillows, she was irritated.

Somehow, her mattress had been filled with rocks, and her sheets had turned into sandpaper.

Throwing back the covers, she went over to the bank of windows that were shuttered and covered in thick satin drapery. She wanted some fresh air, but there would be no opening them. It was morning.

As she settled onto her chaise longue, she covered her bare feet with the hem of her silk nightgown.

Wrath.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him. And every time another image of them together came to mind, she wanted to curse. Which was shocking.

She was the docile one. The lovely one. All female perfection and gentleness. Anger went totally against her nature.

Except the more she thought of Wrath, the more she wanted to punch something.

Assuming she could make a fist.

She glanced down at her hand. Yup, she could. Though it was pathetically small.

Especially compared to his.

God, she’d endured so much. And he had no appreciation of how difficult her life had been.

Being the untouched spinster shellan of the most powerful vampire of them all was hell on earth. Her failures as a female had burned out any sense of self-worth she’d had. The isolation had preyed on her sanity. The embarrassment at living with her brother because she had no home of her own had stung.

And she’d been horrified to be stared at by others and talked about behind her back. She was very aware that she was a constant topic of conversation, envied, pitied, spied upon, the stuff of fable. She knew young females were told of her story, although whether it was as warning or inducement, she didn’t want to know.

Wrath was totally unaware of how she’d suffered.

Part of that fault she had to lay at her own feet. Playing the good little female had felt like the right thing to do, the