Home > Lover Enshrined (Black Dagger Brotherhood #6)(58)

Lover Enshrined (Black Dagger Brotherhood #6)(58)
Author: J.R. Ward

John and Qhuinn waited. Then waited some more... and some more.

God only knew what was doing. Guess it took a while for the king and queen to draw up his Go to Jail, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $500 papers.

John took out his phone, like he needed something to do with his hands, and frowned as he checked the thing. After he texted someone, he put it back in his pocket.

Weird that Blay hasn't checked in yet.

Not really, Qhuinn thought, feeling like a son of a bitch. The king threw the doors wide. "Getcha asses back in here."

There was a scramble of their feet, and then Wrath shut them all in together. The king returned to his desk, parked it in the doll-like chair, and propped his huge shitkickers on the mound of paperwork. When Beth fell in by the side of where he sat, he reached up and took her hand.

"You boys familiar with the term ahstrux nohtrum?" When the two of them shook their heads like idiots, Wrath smiled a cold, nasty little grin. "It's an antiquated position. It's like a private guard, only they're allowed to use deadly force when protecting their master. They're killers with a pass."

Qhuinn swallowed hard, wondering what the hell that had to do with him and John.

The king continued. "Ahstrux nohtrum may be commissioned only by royal decree, and the standard is kind of like the U.S. Secret Service's for protection. The subject must be a person of interest, and the guard must be capable." Wrath kissed his queen's hand. "A person of interest is someone whose presence is significant as judged by the king. Which is me. Now... my shellan here, she's the most precious thing in the world, and there is nothing that I won't do to make sure her heart is protected. Also, in terms of the race as a whole, she is queen. Therefore her only brother most definitely falls into the person-of-interest category.

"As for the qualified-guard part... I happened to know, Qhuinn, that out of the training class, you were the best fighter, aside from John. You're vicious with the hand-to-hand, a great shot on the range" - the king's voice grew wry - "and we're all aware of how good you are with a knife, aren't we."

Qhuinn felt a weird rush go through him, like some kind of fog had lifted and revealed an unexpected path out of the wilderness. He reached for John's arm to steady himself even though it totally slapped the Hello! My Name Is Nancy tag on him.

"One thing, though," the king said. "Ahstrux nohtrum are expected to sacrifice their own lives for the one they protect. If shit comes down to it, they will take a mortal hit. Oh, and it's a lifelong commitment, unless I say different. I'm the only one who can issue a pink slip, feel me?"

Qhuinn's mouth talked of its own accord: "Of course. Absolutely."

Wrath smiled and reached over to the box Beth had carried in. He took out a thick sheaf of paper, at the bottom of which was a gold seal with red and black satin ribbons. "Gee, would you look at this."

He casually tossed the official-looking document to the far edge of the desk.

Qhuinn and John leaned in together. In the Old Language, the thing stated that...

"Holy... f**k," Qhuinn breathed, then abruptly looked up at Beth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to use foul language."

She smiled and kissed the top of her hellren's head. "It's okay. I've heard worse."

"Look at the date," Wrath said.

It was backdated... the f**ker was backdated to two months ago. According to the document, Qhuinn, son of Lohstrong, had been functioning as John Matthew, son of Darius, son of Marklon's ahstrux nohtrum since late June.

"I'm really rat-ass awful at paperwork," Wrath drawled.

"I just forgot to tell you two what was doing. My bad. Now, of course, this means that you, John, are responsible for the restitution, because the subject being guarded has to settle all debts incurred as a result of protection."

John immediately signed, I'll pay -

"No, wait," Qhuinn cut in. "He doesn't have that kind of money - "

"Your buddy's worth about forty million at this point, so he can handle it just fine."

Qhuinn looked over at John. "What? Why the hell are you working in the office for clothes money?"

Who do I make the check out to? John signed, ignoring him.

"Lash's parents. Beth, as the Brotherhood's CFO, will tell you which account it comes out of, right, leelan?" Wrath squeezed the queen's hand and smiled up at her. When he refocused on Qhuinn and John, the loving expression was gone. "Qhuinn's moving into the house effective now, and he's going to have a salary of seventy-five thousand a year, which you will pay. And, Qhuinn, you're so totally out of the training program, but that doesn't mean the Brothers and I won't... oh, I don't know, spar with your ass to keep your skills sharp. After all, we take care of our own. And you're one of us now."

Qhuinn took a deep breath. And then another. And then -  "I need... I need to sit down."

Like a complete flippin' lightweight, he stumbled over to one of the pale blue couches. With everyone staring at him like they were about to offer him either a paper bag to breathe into or some Kleenex, he put his hand to where he'd been operated on in hopes of making it seem like he was overcome by his injury, not his emotions.

Trouble was... he couldn't seem to draw any air into his lungs. He wasn't sure what the f**k was going into his mouth, but whatever the shit was, it wasn't doing a damn thing to clear the dizziness in his head or the burning sensation around his rib cage.

Curiously, the one who came over and crouched down in front of him wasn't John or the queen. It was Wrath. The king suddenly appeared in his watery vision, those sunglasses and that cruel face at total odds with the soft voice that he used.

"Put your head between your knees, son." The king's hand landed on his shoulder and gently pushed him down. "Go on now."

Qhuinn did as he was told, and started to shake so badly that if it hadn't been for Wrath's big palm holding him steady, he would have fallen on the floor.

He would not cry. He refused to let one single tear out. Instead, he gasped and he shook and he grew drenched in a cold sweat.

Quietly, so only Wrath would hear, he whispered, "I thought... was all alone."

"Nah," Wrath answered just as softly. "Like I said, you're one of us now, feel me?"

Qhuinn lifted his eyes. "But I'm no one."

"Ah, to hell with that." The king shook his head slowly. "You saved John's honor. So like I said, you're family, son."

Qhuinn shifted his eyes over to Beth and John, who were standing side by side. Through his unshed tears, he saw the resemblance in their dark hair and deep blue eyes.

Family...

Qhuinn steeled his spine, got to his feet, and pulled himself up to his full height. Straightening his shirt and then his hair, he became completely and utterly composed as he walked over to John.

With set, straight shoulders, he put his hand out to his friend. "I'll lay my life down for you. With or without that piece of paper."

As the words came out of his mouth, he realized it was the first thing he'd ever said as a full-grown male, the first vow he'd ever taken. And he couldn't think of a better person to offer it to, except for maybe Blay.

John glanced down, then clasped the palm that was presented to him, his grip firm and strong. They didn't hug, they didn't speak.

And I for you, John mouthed as their eyes met. And I... for you.

"You can ask me about Phury if you want. When you're finished with that."

Cormia straightened from the white candle she was lighting and glanced over her shoulder. Bella was lying on her back in the big bed across the room, her thin, pale hand on her rounded belly.

"Really, you can," the female said with a small smile. "It'll give me something else to think about. And right now I need that."

Cormia blew out her match. "How did you know he was on my mind?"

"You have what I call a 'male brow.' Which is a frown brought on when you're thinking about your male and you either want to boot him in the ass or wrap your arms around him and hold him 'til he can't breathe."

"The Primale is not mine." Cormia took the gold incense burner in her hand and moved it three times around the candle. The chant she recited was soft but insistent, calling upon the Scribe Virgin to watch over Bella and her young.

"He doesn't love me," Bella said. "Not really."

Cormia put the burner on a table in the easternmost corner of the room and double-checked that the three candles had good, strong flames.

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