Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Allhan nodded. And that was when a blush rode up the guy’s throat and lit his face on fire.
Holy shit—
“What.” Allhan’s whole body turned to V. “You said she was okay—”
V cursed and waved off the worry. “No, no. It’s good. I’m just surprised, true.”
“About?”
The kid was so guileless as he stared back, V didn’t know how the hell to answer that one. “She’s fine. Uninjured and doing well after that billboard thing.”
And then it suddenly made sense… last night, the video that had been sent around to everybody. It had been from Allhan’s phone. V hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He’d just assumed some of the partyer crowd had taken pity on the kid and issued an invite they’d no doubt felt forced to by conscience.
Except she’d had a work thing down there at Bathe, hadn’t she. Layla and Xcor had been talking about it the night before.
“You went to see her at the club, didn’t you,” V murmured. “And you were recording the line who’d showed up to see her.”
“I didn’t go to see her exactly.” Allhan stared down at his thin hands. “I just was worried she was alone with all those humans—which was stupid, wasn’t it. I mean, look at me. What could I ever do to save anybody?”
V shook his head. “Never apologize for wanting to protect someone.”
“I wasn’t who saved her.” Allhan turned back to the monitors and tapped one of the screens. “That’s why I’m going to find that name. I’m good at this kind of stuff. I can help the King, and you. This I can do because physical strength doesn’t matter here.”
V’s one and only thought was that he needed some Goose. Right now. He was just not cut out for this parental shit—
He went over and knelt down, swiveling the kid’s chair around. “Allhan, I want you to know something—”
“I’m sorry, for whatever I did wrong—”
“Stop apologizing for everything.” Fucking hell, he’d never wished that he was Tohr before. But that guy would know how to put— “You don’t need to earn your place with me, okay? And you’re not going to do anything that gets it taken away, either.”
“This is my job—”
“You’re safe. You’re welcome to stay with me and Jane, for however long you want—and we hope it’s a long time.” Now V tapped the monitors. “This, and this job, isn’t you. It’s what you do. And it’s not connected to being with us. You don’t have to earn your bed or the roof over your head.”
Allhan seemed to cave in on himself. “But why else would I have them.”
V hesitated. “Because me and Jane, we like having you around. It’s a good feeling for us, looking after you.”
There was a long pause. Then Allhan brushed his eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “There’s a plot against the King, right. I’ve heard you talking about it.”
“Yeah, there is. But the Brotherhood is going to handle it—”
“And George, or whatever the name is, might help you find Whestmorel.”
“Maybe, we don’t know. But that’s not on you.”
Shit, he shouldn’t have given the kid the assignment. The trouble was, Allhan was the best bloodhound they had—
“I want that male dead.” Allhan’s eyes swung up, and they were harder than stone. “If he’s threatening the King, then he’s threatening you, because you will go out and fight to protect Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath. I’m doing this work… because it’s the only way I can think of to help you.”
V closed his lids for a split second. Then he reached out and put his gloved hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” he said roughly.
“No,” Allhan returned in a small voice. “Thank you. For everything.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
L.W. had meant to send himself away from the alley, the fighting, the cop-bots.
And he’d managed to do that. The problem? No clue where he’d ended up.
And when he’d returned to his corporeal form, he’d also meant to be up on his feet, but he failed at that. He was flat on his back—and not like in a hospital bed, or even the bed he used at Shuli’s. This mattress was ice cold, as if he was outside—
He turned his head. The blurry structure next to him was certainly a big house, and there were all kinds of lights glowing everywhere inside. But it was not Shuli’s white, building-blocks mansion.
Bringing up his hand, he—
Why was his whole arm covered in snow?
Craning his neck, he looked down his body. There was snow on top of him, and as the wind gusted, more of it blew over onto his legs and torso, further dusting his leather jacket—and getting into it. Alarm bells started ringing in his head. How long had he been out here? He’d intended to go to the Brotherhood’s garage downtown to be triaged—which was what you were supposed to do for injuries in the field. That was where Rhamp would have taken Shuli.