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He went over to the closet and shed his clothes. Way in the back, behind another two pairs of pajamas he was never going to use, he found his ceremonial black robe. He drew the heavy silk on over his naked skin and belted it with a thick strip of braided leather.

When he came out, Mary said, “You look like you’re going to a monastery.”

“Tell me you will be here when I come back.”

After a moment, she nodded.

He pulled the robe’s hood into place. “Good. That’s good.”

“Rhage, what’s going on?”

“Just wait for me. Please, wait for me.” As he got to the door, he took one last look at her in his bed.

This was their first good-bye that had teeth, their first separation where, when they were reunited, he’d feel the awful distance of time and experience. He knew tonight was going to be hard to get through. He just hoped that when he came out on the other side, the aftermath of the punishment didn’t linger too long. And that she was still with him.

“I’ll see you later, Mary,” he said as he shut her in his room.

When he walked into Wrath’s study, he closed the double doors behind himself. All the brothers were there, and no one was talking. The scent of unease permeated the room, smelling like rubbing alcohol.

Wrath came forward from behind the desk, looking as rigid as Tohr had. From behind his wraparound sunglasses, the king’s stare was piercing, something felt, though not seen.

“Brother.”

Rhage bowed his head. “My lord.”

“You wear that robe as if you want to stay with us.”

“Of course I do.”

Wrath nodded once. “Here is the pronouncement, then. The Scribe Virgin has determined that you offended the Brotherhood in both defying Tohr’s orders and by bringing a human onto our turf. I’ll be honest with you, Rhage, she wants to override my decision about Mary. She wants the human out.”

“You know where that leads.”

“I told her you were prepared to walk.”

“That probably cheered her up.” Rhage smirked. “She’s been trying to get rid of me for years.”

“Well, it’s your choice now, brother. If you want to remain with us, and if the human is to continue to be sheltered within these walls, the Scribe Virgin has demanded that you offer a rythe.”

The ritualistic way of assuaging offense was a logical punishment. When a rythe was tendered and accepted, the offender allowed the object of his insult free use of a weapon against him without putting up a defense. The offended could choose anything from a knife to a set of brass knuckles to a gun, provided the wound inflicted was not mortal.

“I so offer the rythe,” Rhage said.

“It must be one to each of us.”

There was a collective groan in the room. Someone muttered, “Fuck.”

“I so offer them.”

“Be it as you wish, brother.”

“But”—Rhage hardened his voice—“I offer them only on the understanding that if the ritual is observed, Mary stays for however long I want.”

“That was my agreement with the Scribe Virgin. And you should know she came around only after I told her you wanted to take the human as your shellan. I think Her Holiness was shocked you could even consider that kind of commitment.” Wrath looked over his shoulder. “Tohrment is to choose the weapon that all of us will use.”

“The tri-whip,” Tohr said in a low voice.

Oh, shit. This was going to hurt.

There were more mutters.

“So be it,” Wrath said.

“Except what about the beast?” Rhage asked. “It can come out when I’m in pain.”

“The Scribe Virgin will be there. She said she has a way of keeping it at bay.”

But of course she would. She’d cooked the damn thing up in the first place.

“We’re going to do this tonight, right?” Rhage glanced around the room. “I mean, there’s no reason to wait.”

“We’ll go to the Tomb now.”

“Good. Let’s get it over with.”

Zsadist was the first to leave as the group got to their feet and worked out logistics in quiet tones. Tohr needed a robe, did someone have an extra one? Phury announced he’d bring the weapon. V offered the Escalade to take them all down together.

The latter was good thinking. They were going to need something to get him home in after the