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“Yeah, sex. Depending on how hard the change is for you, you may end up wanting it right away.” Wrath let out a wry chuckle. “Just ask Butch.”

In response, John could only stare at the king and blink like a lighthouse.

“So there we have it.” Wrath stood up and moved the massive throne back to the desk with no effort at all. Then he frowned. “What did you think I was coming to talk to you about?”

John dropped his head and absently stroked the arm of Tohr’s chair.

“Did you think it was about Tohrment?”

The sound of the name made John’s eyes burn and he refused to look up as Wrath sighed.

“You thought I was coming to tell you he was dead?”

John shrugged.

“Well…I don’t believe he’s gone unto the Fade.”

John’s stare shot up to those wraparounds.

“I can still feel this echo in my blood and it’s him. When we lost Darius? I couldn’t feel him anymore in my veins. So, yeah, I believe Tohr lives.”

John felt a shot of relief, but then went back to smoothing the chair’s arm.

“You think he doesn’t care about you because he hasn’t called or come back?”

John nodded.

“Look, son, when a bonded male loses his mate…he loses himself. It’s the hardest separation you can imagine—harder, I’ve heard, than losing a young for a male. Your mate is your life. Beth’s mine. If anything happened to her…yeah, as I said to Tohr once, I can’t even go there in the hypothetical.” Wrath reached out and put his hand on John’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you something. If Tohr comes back, it will be because of you. He felt as though you were his kid. Maybe he could walk away from the Brotherhood, but he won’t be able to leave you behind. You have my word.”

John’s eyes welled, but he was not going to cry in front of the king. As he set his spine along with his teeth, the tears dried in place, and Wrath nodded as if he approved of the effort.

“You are a male of worth, John, and you will make him proud. Now, I’m going to go see about Layla.”

The king went to the door, then looked back over his shoulder. “Z tells me the two of you go out every night. Good. I want you to keep that up.”

When Wrath left, John leaned back in the chair. God, those walks with Z were so strange. Nothing being said, just the two of them dressed in parkas, traipsing through the woods right before dawn came. He was still waiting for the Brother to ask questions, to poke and prod, to try and dig around the inside of his head. But there had been nothing like that yet. All it had been was the two of them, walking in silence beneath tall pines.

Funny, though…he’d come to rely on those little forays. And after this talk of Tohr, he was really going to need one tonight.

Butch was screaming his lungs raw as he raced across the terrace for the ledge. He threw himself at the lip and looked down, but couldn’t see anything because he was so far up and there were no lights on this side of the building. As for the sound of a body drop? God knew he was hollering loud enough to drown out that kind of distant thunch.

“Vishous!”

Oh, God…maybe if he got down there fast enough, he could…shit, get V to Havers—or something…anything. He wheeled around, ready to run to the elevator—

Vishous appeared before him as a glowing ghost, a perfect reflection of what the brother had been, an ethereal vision of Butch’s one true friend.

Butch stumbled, a pathetic wail coming out of his mouth. “V…”

“I couldn’t do it,” the ghost said.

Butch frowned. “V?”

“As much as I hate myself…I don’t want to die.”

Butch went cold. Then ran as white-hot as his roommate’s body.

“You fucking bastard!” Butch shot forward without thinking and grabbed Vishous by the throat. “You fucking…bastard! You scared the shit out of me!”

He hauled his arm back and cold-cocked V right in the face, his fist cracking against jawbone. As he braced himself for a return shot, he was absolutely livid. Instead of fighting back, though, V locked his arms around Butch, put his head down, and just…crumpled. Shook all over. Trembled to the point of frailty.

Cursing the brother to hell and back,