by J. R. Ward
Wrath stared down at his son. The tears in his eyes were doing his fucking nut in. He knew this wasn’t going to last and he didn’t want to waste one second of it on blurriness.
“You have given me such a gift this night,” he said in the Old Language.
“You have tallied long and hard. You deserve it. Now be well, Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath.”
Wrath looked up. “I still owe you a favor. Remember?”
Even though the Scribe Virgin was just a light source, he could swear she was smiling at him. “Oh, I have not forgotten. And in time, you will give me my due, I promise you that—now, though, here comes your shellan. I shall give you a moment with her, and then—”
“I know. Be well, Analisse.”
“And you, old friend.”
Just as the Scribe Virgin disappeared, Beth appeared in the study’s open doorway. “Wrath, are you…”
She stopped talking as he looked up at her with eyes that properly focused. Then she put her fingertips to her mouth.
“Wrath?” she said urgently.
“You are so beautiful.”
As she rushed over to him, he made note of her flowing dark hair and her lovely skin, her eyes and her body, her… everything. His eyes were starved for what fed into them, and when she got in range, he took her hand and pulled her into his lap. Then he looked down at George.
“And hello there as well, you good boy.”
He stroked the golden’s perfectly boxy head. Then he stared at his son and his shellan.
“How did this happen?” Beth choked out as she touched his brows.
“It’s a gift from an old friend.” He stroked her hair. Her face. “And it’s not going to be for long.”
“The Scribe Virgin was here?” she said with shock.
“She’s always with us, as it turns out.”
Wrath kissed his shellan. Kissed his son. Kissed his dog.
Then with one last look at the three of them, he closed his eyes. It seemed important for him to have control over the re-loss of his sight. If he’d had to watch his family fade from him, he would have panicked. But by doing it himself, it was less traumatic.
“L.W.’s eyes are green now,” Beth admitted with contrition. “They changed a while ago. I didn’t want you to be upset.”
Wrath smiled. “He’s perfect. Just the way the Scribe Virgin made him.”
“I love you,” his shellan said.
Taking a deep breath, Wrath slowly opened his lids… and saw nothing now. But his family was still with him. He could feel the weight, the warmth—and the fur—of all of them.
With peace and love in his heart, Wrath said, “And your voice in the darkness is my reason for living.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Downtown, as a rare blood moon shone its eerie light upon the twinkling city, a figure in white appeared on the top of one of Caldwell’s two span bridges. Later, people would debate whether it actually existed. Paranormal enthusiasts would say yes, and that it was a ghost or a wraith. Skeptics, on the other hand, would maintain that the pictures taken of the mysterious apparition were doctored.
Oh, and the Area 51 aficionados were convinced it was an alien.
As with so much in life, what folks thought they saw depended more on who they were than what may or may not have been before them.
The stone-cold truth, however, was that a demon did in fact materialize to that arch, and she did look over the city as if it were hers for the taking.
And as for what she wore? It wasn’t a robe like her big brother had sported.
No, when Devina decided to pick that seminal spot for her declaration of dominion, she was wearing a wedding gown.
It seemed apt. And the shit was not vintage.
The ball-gown-style dress with the tight bodice and the peekaboo panels at the cleavage and on the ribs was a brand-new, never-before-worn Pnina Tornai. Devina had chosen it from all of the available stock at the most exclusive boutique in town, putting the satin and sparkles on and three-way-mirror’ing it before she came down here for her big reveal. The dress was all her, elegant but flamboyant, expensive and exclusive. Just what she would walk down the aisle with some night.
Brian O’Neal was correct. She only needed the right partner.
And until someone of male extraction volunteered for that role—and really, what were the chances of that—she was marrying Caldwell.
This city would be her spouse and she was going to enjoy expressing her special brand of love all over its streets and—
At first, Devina couldn’t comprehend what obstructed her view of the highest skyscraper in the financial district.
But there was something on the other bridge.
Standing with feet planted and body braced.
Devina narrowed her eyes. It was a male. Dressed in… were those hot pink zebra tights? And what was that shirt? Was that… Barney?
“Jesus Christ,” she spat.
All at once, from behind those broad shoulders, a set of gossamer wings extended outward as blond and black hair spooled loose from some kind of tie.
No, it wasn’t J. C.
Lassiter, the Fallen Angel.
As Devina narrowed her eyes and her temper rose, he smiled at her. And lifted one of his hands. With an elaborate show, he blew her a kiss, turned that palm around… and extended his middle finger at her.
And thus the next generation of conflict was born.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With so many thanks to the readers of the Black Dagger Brotherhood books! This has been a long, marvelous, exciting journey, and I can’t wait to see what happens next in this world we all love. I’d also like to thank Meg Ruley, Rebecca Scherer and everyone at JRA, and Lauren McKenna, Jennifer Bergstrom, Abby Zidle, and the entire family at Gallery Books and Simon & Schuster.
To Team Waud, I love you all. Truly. And as always, everything I do is with love to, and adoration for, both my family of origin and of adoption.
Oh, and thank you to Naamah, my Writer Dog II, who works as hard as I do on my books! And for Arch, who has stepped up in a major way lately!
More from this Series
The Savior
Book 17
More from the Author
The Jackal
Where Winter Finds You
Blood Truth
The Wedding from Hell…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. R. WARD is the author of more than thirty novels, including those in her #1 New York Times bestselling Black Dagger Brotherhood series. There are more than fifteen million copies of her novels in print worldwide, and they have been published in twenty-six different countries. She lives in the South with her family.
JRWard.com
Facebook.com/JRWardBooks
Twitter: @JRWard1
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/J-R-Ward
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Facebook.com/GalleryBooks
@GalleryBooks
By J. R. Ward
THE BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD SERIES
Dark Lover
Lover Eternal
Lover Awakened
Lover Revealed
Lover Unbound
Lover Enshrined
The Black Dagger Brotherhood: An Insider’s Guide
Lover Avenged
Lover Mine
Lover Unleashed
Lover Reborn
Lover at Last
The King
The Shadows
The Beast
The Chosen
The Thief
The Savior
The Sinner
THE BLACK DAGGER LEGACY SERIES
Blood Kiss
Blood Vow
Blood Fury
Blood Truth
THE BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD WORLD
Dearest Ivie
Prisoner of Night
Where Winter Finds You
FIREFIGHTERS SERIES
&
nbsp; Consumed
NOVELS OF THE FALLEN ANGELS
Covet
Crave
Envy
Rapture
Possession
Immortal
THE BOURBON KINGS SERIES
The Bourbon Kings
The Angels’ Share
Devil’s Cut
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Love Conquers All, Inc.
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First Gallery Books hardcover edition March 2020
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Interior design by Davina Mock-Maniscalco
Jacket illustration by Craig White
Author photograph © Jan Cobb
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBN 978-1-5011-9509-9
ISBN 978-1-5011-9511-2 (ebook)
