Текст книги "The King"

Автор книги: J. R. Ward

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Текущая страница: 33 (всего у книги 39 страниц)

FIFTY-NINE

Trez decided enough with the bullshit.

As he dematerialized back up to Rehv’s great camp, he was ready to come clean, lay down the talk, set things straight with his Chosen. He and Selena had been circling each other for long enough, and now that he had some breathing room—for however long it lasted—he needed to make the situation with that female his priority.

Along with s’Ex’s appetites, of course.

Fuck. Apparently that executioner had used the girls so hard that they’d been unable to work tonight. He’d gotten texts from all three of them—and the good news was at least they didn’t seem to regret a damn thing: Each one of them asked if they could see the executioner again.

At this rate, they’d be paying him to see that son of a bitch.

Hell, they hadn’t even brought up the money he’d agreed to pay them for their efforts.

Reassuming form in his usual spot on the side lawn, he was relieved to see a light on in that back bedroom of hers—and nowhere else. Thank God. Entering the house through the kitchen’s rear entrance, he didn’t call her name, didn’t make a sound. Instead, he ghosted through the empty house, circling to the base of the stairs, ascending in a way that none of the steps creaked.

At the top landing, he went to the left, and when he got to the partially closed door, he could feel his chest grow tight.

“Selena…?”

Her scent was in the air; he knew she was in there.

“Selena?” He pushed the door a little wider, and that was when he heard the sound of running water.

He had to duck his head under the low transom to enter, and as he went to the left again, he caught the humidity in the air, and the warmth—

Oh … man.

He found her in the tub. Head back on a towel, body stretched out in a deep pool of clear water, hands resting on the sides of the old-fashioned porcelain bath.

“I could have gotten up,” she said without bothering to open her eyes. “But I wanted you to see me naked.”

Trez cleared his throat with a cough—which was what you did when someone hit you in the solar plexus. “Ah … can we talk?”

“I think we have.” Her lids lifted and she glanced over at him. “Or is there more?”

At that, she shifted her legs, the water undulating over that incredible body, her curves amplified as if she were moving … her nipples licked at and left wet to the air.

“There’s more,” he croaked as he ran his tongue over his lips.

“Then by all means, do draw up a chair. Unless you find that you’d like to join me.”

Fucking hell. “Is there any way I can get you up and out of there. And dressed?”

“If you wish to do it yourself, by all means, oblige your impulse.”

Yeah, because getting his hands on her naked was going to be suuuuch a big help.

Cursing under his breath, Trez went over and picked up a chair—because in the end, he was afraid that if he stayed standing he’d trip and fall into her. Literally.

As he sat down, he put his hands up to his face and scrubbed hard … and then all he could do was stay like that.

The water made a tinkling as if she were sitting up. “Trez? Are you all right?”

“No.”

There had been so many times in his life when he’d fallen off cliffs, when things that he’d done or had done to him had come back to bite him in the ass. Never like this.

“Trez?” When he didn’t answer her, she said, “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m…” Gee fucking whiz, where to start. “Selena, I’m really sorry.”

“Why?” The tension was thick in her voice. “What are you apologizing for?”

Shame made his throat tighten up so badly, he could barely get breath into his lungs. “I need to be honest with you. Straight-up one hundred.”

“I thought you had been.”

All he could do was shake his head. “Look, you know that I have had … extensive dealings with humans.”

“That wasn’t exactly as you chose to phrase it previously,” she remarked.

More with his head shaking. “My business is … it’s a club. Do you know what that is?”

“Rugby? Or baseball?”

“A dance club. A place where people drink and … listen to music.” Jesus Christ. “And do other things.”

“Yes…?”

He dropped his hands. She had sat up and her pink nipples were right on the edge of the water, the warm surface licking at them once again—not that she seemed to notice.

“Would you mind getting out and putting a robe on?” he asked.

“I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Fucking abso on that one. “I know. It’s just hard to concentrate.”

“Maybe I want you to struggle.”

Okay, right, virgins were not supposed to be so tantalizing. Then again, she wasn’t one anymore—he’d taken care of that.

Fuck. “Mission accomplished,” he muttered.

“You were telling me about your work?”

He focused his eyes on the floor. It was simple white tile, old and well-scrubbed, the kind of thing that managed to look fresh even with its lateral cracks and occasional chips.

“Trez?” From the corner of his vision, he watched as she extended her foot and turned the hot water on for a refresh. “You were saying?”

Just do it.

Great, life had been reduced to a Nike ad.

“I traffic women. Do you understand what that means?”

She frowned. “You take them out into the street?”

“I sell them. Their bodies. To men, usually.”

Cue the silence.

He met her in the eye. “I get paid for that. I sell them. Do you understand?”

After a moment, her beautiful hands receded from the sides of the tub and crossed over her breasts.

Exactly, he thought.

“And that’s not the worst of it.”

There was a very long pause. And then she said, “I do believe I should like to get dressed.”

He got to his feet and headed for the door. “Yeah, I thought so.”

* * *

Out in the snow-covered field, Layla wheeled around. She was about to scream when she recognized the male who had stepped out from behind the great tree. It was the soldier, the one who’d been injured and brought to the Brotherhood’s training center. The one who had failed to correct her when she’d assumed he was affiliated with the Brothers.

The one who had brought her here to help Xcor that night so long ago.

“I’m sorry,” he said, bowing low, his eyes still on her. “That is hardly a proper greeting.”

She was about to curtsy when she recalled that he did not deserve the respect. He, like Xcor, was on the other side of things.

“You are looking exceptionally well this cold evening,” he murmured.

His accent was not at all like Xcor’s, each word pronounced perfectly, the voice well modulated instead of gruff. But she was not fooled. He’d used her as a tool once.

There was no doubt he would again.

“So what conversation were you having with him?” he asked, that stare narrowing.

Layla pulled her heavy robes more closely around her body. “I should think if you wish to know, you may inquire of him yourself. If you will excuse me, I shall take my leave of you—”

The hand that locked on her arm bit into her flesh, and his handsome face darkened to the point of menace. “No, I do not think so. I want you to tell me what you were discussing with him.”

Angling her chin up, she met the soldier in the eye. “He wanted to know if it was real.”

Those brows came down, his grip loosening some. “I beg your pardon?”

“The divorce proclamation. He wanted to know if Wrath has indeed given up his queen—and I assured him it was true.”

The soldier dropped his hold. “Assuming you can be trusted.”

“Whether I can or cannot be doesn’t change the truth. You’ll find out elsewhere, I’m sure.”

Probably not, actually, given the lack of contact the household had with the rest of the race. But mayhap this male would not know that.

“So it was an arranged mating the King cared naught for.”

“On the contrary, their love was obvious to all. He was well and truly bonded.” Layla forced her shoulders to shrug casually. “Again, you will hear this from others, I’m sure.”

Throe shook his head. “Then he could not have let her go.”

“Maybe you should consider this against any further ambitions you have for the throne.” She took a surreptitious step back. “A male who will set aside his bonded mate will do anything to keep that which others seek to take from him. The foe you are seeking out by your actions will not be beaten—and he will come for you all. Mark my word.”

“Fierce little thing, aren’t you.”

“Again, it is merely fact for you to discover at your leisure. Or not. Either way, it bothers me not.”

As he let her take another step away from him, she thought there was a good chance she was going to be able to depart.

“There was something else,” he said. “Wasn’t there.”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t he dematerialize?”

She frowned, having not considered that. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Not his way.” The soldier’s eyes went down her body. “And I think I can guess. Be of care, Chosen. He is not who you think he is. He is capable of betrayals that a female like you couldn’t begin to contemplate.”

“If you will excuse me, I shall be taking my leave the now.” She curtsied and then struggled to focus, focus, focus …

“Be of care.”

Those words haunted her as she disappeared from the meadow … and found her way back to the mansion’s front entrance.

As she contemplated the heavy door, a shudder went through her. That fighter struck her as more terrifying than Xcor himself: the latter would never hurt her. She didn’t know how she was so sure of that, but it was like the beat of her heart—something she could feel in the center of her chest.

That other male? Not the case. At all.

Closing her eyes, she hated this in between with Xcor. How was she going to pass the hours before tomorrow at midnight? And why was he making her wait?

She already knew what his answer was going to be.

SIXTY

Selena put her full robing back on. Everything, undergarments and all. In spite of the fact that her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely marshal them.

When she finally walked out into the bedroom, she found Trez sitting on a straight-backed chair in front of the desk that she sometimes used to compose diary entries. And indeed, she was glad she had closed her leather-bound volume after she’d finished with last tonight’s passage.

It was all about him, naturally.

And she had a feeling there was going to be an addendum.

He looked over at her, his dark eyes flashing for a moment. “You ready to do this now?”

Dearest Virgin Scribe, of all the things she thought he’d tell her … that was not it.

“How can you … sell them?” she said roughly.

He sighed. “They want the money. I make it happen. I make it safe.”

“And they … you get paid for this as well.”

“Yeah.”

She had to sit down before she fell over—and went toward the bed before thinking, No, not there. Instead, she chose the loveseat that was in front of the fireplace. Settling in, she tucked her feet underneath her bottom and made sure the skirting covered all of her skin.

“How long?” she heard herself ask.

“Years. Decades. First I was a supervisor. Now I’m the boss.”

“I can’t imagine … that.”

He rubbed his temples. “I know you can’t.”

Abruptly, Selena found herself struggling to stay still. Her internal compass was spinning around so fast, she could barely form a sentence. “You know what? Just tell me everything. At the moment, my head is making up all kinds of horrible things and I—”

“The worst part is that I’ve been with a couple thousand women. Easy.”

At first, she thought, No, she couldn’t have heard that right. But the wave of cold that went through her suggested that actually, she had gotten it correct.

“Thousand,” she said weakly.

“That’s a conservative estimate. Could be close to ten. Thousand, that is. Shit, maybe even more.”

Selena blinked. Okay, when he’d maintained previously that it was “many” human women? She’d thought a couple dozen, tops. But the numbers he was talking about? Even by ehros standards, they were … unfathomable.

As she tried to imagine all the different scenarios he could have … “Were any of them women you…”

“Yeah. For a long time, I wouldn’t sell a prostitute until I’d had her.”

With a wave of nausea shooting through her gut, all Selena could do was stare at him.

“You are correct,” she heard herself say. “I do not know you.”

“God, Selena, I’m so fucking sorry—I should never have been with you. Not because I didn’t want you, but because I … well, yeah, because I knew that this was the reaction I’d get if I told you the truth. And actually, last night, I came here to try to explain, but then I just…”

She put her face in her hands, images of him kissing her, caressing her, taking her, hitting her like blows. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said bleakly.

And yet there was no reason to recast reality as a way to reclaim virtue she had lost willingly. “I seduced you.” She dropped her hands. “I asked for what I got.”

“No, it is solidly on me—”

“Just stop.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

So was she. Because the sad truth was that she had enjoyed being with him. Indeed, while it was happening, it had been a kind of paradise. Unfortunately, that illusion was as transient as the act, and now that it was over? The pleasure was as if it had never been.

“Selena, whatever it is you’re thinking, you can say it—”

“I wish I had been born into another life,” she blurted. “I should have liked falling in love with a single male and finding a humble place in the world with him. I do not think I would have wanted for anything like that, no matter how little we had.”

“That can still be for you.” His voice became utterly flat. “That can happen—any male would want you.”

Ah, yes, but there was only one person she wanted. And even if Trez had been a saint, which he clearly was not, she was still out of time.

“It’s all right.” She struggled to hold back tears—and was successful. After all, soon she would be alone. “It is what it is. I have learned long ago, there is no negotiating with destiny.”

They fell silent for the longest time.

“I don’t love her,” he gritted out. “I don’t know why I feel like I have to say that, but I do.”

“The one you are mating? Yes, you said that before.” Abruptly, she stared across the way at him, noting his lowered head, his aura of sorrow. “Ironic, but we are not so different, you and I.”

As his eyes shifted to hers, she shrugged. “I have had no hand in my destiny, either. The tragedy is that some things follow us like shadows—they are with us wherever we go.”

“Yeah. I just never cared about that. Until I met you.”

She thought of the Sanctuary’s cemetery, of her sisters who had been relegated to a shortened life span, and had had to wait to die in a prison of their own bodies. Then she remembered the feel of him moving inside of her, the liquid warmth flowing throughout her muscles and bones.

“Did you love them?” she asked.

“Who? Oh, the women … no. Never. At all. Hell, half the time I didn’t really enjoy it.” He cracked his neck like those shoulder muscles of his were stiffening up again. “I really don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I was out of control and just trying to get out of my own head. The problem is, all those women are inside of me now.”

“Inside…?”

“My people believe that you can poison yourself if you have … if you’re with people the way I was. And I have—poisoned myself. It’s eaten me up until there’s nothing in here.”

As he touched the center of his chest, she realized that he was, in fact, hollow, the light gone from his eyes, the animation lacking in his body, his aura dissipated as if it had never been.

Overcome with sadness, she shook her head. “You were wrong.”

“About what.”

So empty, he was … vacant down to his soul. “What I see now … is the worst part of it all.”

* * *

As Assail stood on the shores of the Hudson, he was once again dressed in black with a black mask over his face. Behind him, Ehric was silent and at attention, wearing the same articles of clothing.

Both of them had guns in their hands.

“They’re late,” his cousin said.

“Yes.” Assail listened hard. “We give them five minutes. Not one more.”

Off to the left, about four meters into the tree line, his bulletproof Range Rover sat ass to the river, Evale in the driver’s seat with the engine running.

Assail glanced up to the night sky. Following an earlier snowstorm, the moon now had some lazy clouds drifting over its face, and he hoped they took their own sweet time. More light they did not need—although the site was otherwise discreet enough: remote, in a bend on the shoreline, with forest that came nearly up to the river’s frozen edge. Also, the way in had been a lumpy, bumpy barely-there lane, even the SUV struggling in its off-road mode—

“I am worried about you.”

Assail glared over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”

“You do not sleep.”

“I am not tired.”

“You do too much of the coke.”

Assail turned back around and prayed for the appearance they awaited for a fresh reason. “Worry not, cousin.”

“Do you know if they made it to their destination.”

It had been so long since Ehric had asked after anyone, that Assail had to pivot around once more. And indeed, his primary instinct was to shut the inquiry down quick, yet the true concern on that hard face stopped him.

He resumed watching the sluggish, icy water. “No, I do not.”

“Will you call her?”

“No.”

“Not even to make sure they are safe.”

“She doesn’t wish for that.” And the whys of this waiting by the Hudson were proof of the soundness of her decision to leave him. “A clean break it is.”

Even he heard the hollowness in his voice.

God, he wished to hell he had never met that woman—

The sound was at first indistinguishable from the ambient night noises, but the hum quickly became distinct: Coming from the left, it announced that perhaps their wait was over.

The fishing boat that puttered around the corner was as low to the river as a floating leaf and nearly as silent. As prescribed, there were three men in it, all of them clad in dark clothes, and each had a line in the depths, as if they were naught but plying what open water there was for a meal.

They pulled in bow-first.

“Catch anything?” Assail inquired as he’d been told to.

“Three trout.”

“I had two last night.”

“I want one more.”

Assail nodded, putting his gun away and stepping forward. From that moment, everything went silently and with speed: a tarp was lifted and four duffel bags changed hands, moving from the boat to him and then to Ehric—who hung them off his shoulders. In return, Assail passed over a black metal briefcase.

The tallest of the men put in the code he had been given, popped the lid, inspected the layout of bundles of bills, and nodded.

There was a quick handshake … and then Assail and Ehric retreated into the trees. Duffels went in the rear, Ehric in the back, Assail in the passenger seat.

As they headed off, bumping back over the rutted lane, windows were cracked to catch any sounds or smells.

There was nothing.

As they came out to the road, they stopped and waited whilst still hidden in the trees. No cars coming or going. The coast, as the saying went, was clear.

On Assail’s command, the gas was hit and off they went, into the night.

With five hundred thousand street dollars of cocaine and heroin.

So far, so good.

After extracting everything from both Benloises’ phones, he’d combed through the numbers and the texts—particularly the international ones. He’d found two contacts in South America with whom there appeared to be a lot of communication, and when he’d called from Ricardo’s phone, he’d been routed into a network of secured connections, a number of clicks occurring before a proper ringing started.

Needless to say, there had been a good deal of surprise after Assail had introduced himself and explained the purpose of his call. Benloise had, however, informed his compatriots of his new, biggest client—so it was not a complete shock to them that the one who had once been the wholesaler had become superfluous … and been eliminated.

Assail had offered them a deal to start the relationship off upon the right foot: One million in cash for half a million in product—as a gesture of good faith.

Partnerships had to be cultivated, after all.

And he had approved of the men sent to do the transaction. They were a clear step up from Benloise’s street thugs, totally professional.

Now he and his cousins simply had to parcel the product for street sale, and connect with the Forelesser for distribution. And business could resume as if Benloise had never existed.

Perfectly engineered.

“This went well,” Ehric said as they got onto the road that would take them out to Assail’s glass house.

“Yes.”

As they went along, he stared out the window, watching the trees pass by. A house. That hunting cabin.

He should have been more pleased. This was, after all, going to open up tremendous earning potential. And he loved money and all its power. Truly, he did.

Instead, the only thing on his mind was worry over where his female was whether she had in fact made it down to Miami in one piece with that grandmother of hers.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

She was gone.

Forever.