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The group stopped and turned to face him. After a beat of silence, they formed a half circle around the foot of the grand staircase, each making a thick fist with his weapon hand. With a great whoomp! of a war cry, they went down on their right knee and slammed their heavy knuckles into the mosaic floor. The sound was thunder and bass drums and bomb explosions, ricocheting outward, filling all the rooms of the mansion.

Wrath stared at them, seeing their heads bent, their broad backs curled, their powerful arms planted. They had each gone to that meeting prepared to take a bullet for him, and that would ever be true.

Behind Tohr’s smaller form, Lassiter, the fallen angel, stood with a straight spine, but he wasn’t cracking any jokes at this reaffirmation of allegiance. Instead, he was back to staring at the damn ceiling. Wrath glanced up at the mural of warriors silhouetted against a blue sky and could see nothing much of the pictures that he’d been told were there.

Getting back with the program, he said in the Old Language, “No stronger allies, no greater friends, no better fighters of honor could a king behold than these assembled afore me, mine brothers, mine blood.”

A rolling growl of ascent lifted as the warriors got to their feet again, and Wrath nodded to each one of them. He had no more words to offer as his throat had abruptly choked, but they didn’t seem to need anything else. They stared at him with respect and gratitude and purpose, and he accepted their enormous gifts with grave appreciation and resolve. This was the ages-old covenant between king and subjects, the pledges on both sides made with the heart and carried out by the sharp mind and the strong body.

“God, I love you guys,” Beth said.

There was a lot of deep laughter, and then Hollywood said, “You want us to stab the floor for you again? Fists are for kings, but the queen gets the daggers.”

“I wouldn’t want you to take chips out of this beautiful floor. Thank you, though.”

“Say the word and it’s nothing but rubble.”

Beth laughed. “Be still, my heart.”

The Brothers came over and kissed the Saturnine Ruby that rode on her finger, and as each paid his honor, she gave him a gentle stroke of the hair. Except for Zsadist, who she smiled tenderly at.

“Excuse us, boys,” Wrath said. “Little quiet time, feel me?”

There was a ripple of male approval, which Beth took in stride—and with a blush—and then it was time for some privacy.

As Wrath headed upstairs with his shellan, he was feeling like things were getting back to normal. Okay, yeah, there were assassination plots and political drama and lessers everywhere, but that was business as usual. And right now he had his brothers shoulder-to-shoulder and his beloved mate under his arm and the people and doggen he gave a shit about as safe as he could make them.

Beth laid her head on his pec and her hand on his waist. “I’m really glad everyone’s okay.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

He ushered her into the study and shut both doors, the warmth of the fire a balm…and an enticement. As she walked over to the paper-strewn desk, he tracked the sway of her hips.

With a flick of the wrist, he locked them in together.

While he came over to her, Beth reached out to try to make some order of the documents. “So what hap—”

Wrath pressed his hips into her ass and whispered, “I need to be in you.”

His shellan gasped and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh, God…yes…”

Growling, he slipped a hand around to her breast, and as her breath caught, he rolled his cock against her. “I don’t want to take my time with this.”

“Me neither.”

“Lean on the desk.”

Watching her tilt and arch her back nearly made him curse. And then she spread her feet apart and a fuuuuck slipped out.

Which was exactly what he was going to do.

Wrath canned the lamp on the desk so there was only the dancing golden light of the fire to illuminate them, and his hands were rough as he ran them over her hips in anticipation. Crouching behind her, he dragged his fangs down her spine and made her shift