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As his mahmen stepped back, he realized he was yelling at her. He sucked in another deep breath.

“But, Rehvenge, I spoke with her. She doesn’t want to come home yet. And they are males of honor. In the Old Country—”

“We don’t even know who’s in the Brotherhood anymore.”

“They saved her.”

“Then they can give her back to her family. For God’s sake, she’s a female of the aristocracy. You think the glymera will accept her after this? She’s already had that one affair.”

And what a mess that had been. The male had been totally unworthy of her, a crumbling idiot, and yet the bastard had managed to walk away from the split without talk. Bella, on the other hand, had been whispered about for months, and though she’d tried to pretend it hadn’t bothered her, Rehv knew it had.

He hated the aristocracy they were stuck in, he really did.

He shook his head, pissed off at himself. “She should never have moved out of this house. I should never have allowed that.”

And as soon as he got her back, she was never going to be allowed out again without his approval. He was going to have her anointed as a sehcluded female. Her blood was pure enough to justify it, and frankly she should have been one all along. Once that was done, the Brotherhood was legally required to render her back to Rehvenge’s care, and thereafter she would not be able to leave the house without his permission. And there was more. Any male who wanted to see her would have to go through him as head of her household, and he was going to deny every single one of the sons of bitches. He’d failed to protect his sister once. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

Rehv checked his watch even though he knew he was late for his business. He would make the petition for sehclusion to the king from his office. It was odd to do something so ancient and traditional through e-mail, but that was the way of things now.

“Rehvenge…”

“What.”

“You will drive her away.”

“Not possible. Once I take care of this, she’ll have nowhere else to go but here.”

He reached for his cane and paused. His mother looked so miserable, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“You don’t worry about a thing, mahmen. I’m going to fix it so she never gets hurt again. Why don’t you ready the house for her? You could take her mourning cloth down.”

Madalina shook her head. In a reverent voice she said, “Not until she walks over the threshold. It would offend the Scribe Virgin to assume her safe return.”

He held back a curse. His mother’s devotion to the Mother of the Race was legendary. Hell, she should have been a member of the Chosen with all her prayers and her rules and her flinching fear that one word askance would bring certain doom.

But whatever. It was her spiritual cage, not his.

“As you wish,” he said, leaning on his cane and turning away.

He moved slowly through the house, relying on the different kinds of floorings to tell him which room he was in. There was marble in the hall, a swirling Persian carpet in the dining room, wide-planked hardwood in the kitchen. He used his sight to tell him that his feet were landing squarely and that it was safe for him to put his weight on them. He carried the cane in case he misjudged and lost balance.

As he went out into the garage, he held on to the door frame before putting one foot and then the other down the four steps. After sliding into his bulletproof Bentley, he hit the garage door opener and waited for a clear shot out.

Goddamn it. He wished like hell he knew who those Brothers were and where they lived. He’d go there, blast through the door, and drag Bella away from them.

When he could see the driveway behind him, he threw the sedan in reverse and nailed the gas so hard the tires squealed. Now that he was behind the wheel, he could move at the speed he wanted to. Fast. Nimble. Free of caution.

The long lawn was a blur as he gunned down the winding drive to the gates, which were set back from the street. He suffered a quick pause while the things