The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #12)

“Where the fuck are you,” the queen’s executioner bit out. “And where is what you promised me.”

Trez squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m on my way.”

“Don’t you fuck with me.”

The connection was cut.

“Trez?” Selena asked from inside the room. “Is everything all right?”

Nope. Not in the slightest.

How was it noon already?

He pushed the door wide. “Yeah. But I gotta go.”

Cursing under his breath, he went directly to his pants and yanked them on—and when his balls got caught in the zipper, he deliberately pulled up harder, the pain shooting through his pelvis and making him sick.

That little phone call from s’Ex was a reminder of all the reasons it had been a dumb-ass idea to come up here.

Virgin.

Fuck.

As he grabbed his shirt and stuffed an arm through a sleeve, he was acutely aware of Selena sitting silently on the bed.

Virgin.

Right on cue, all those women he’d fucked came back to him in a rush, once again crowding the space between them. And then he had a happy thought about the ones he was providing s’Ex today.

“That’s not happening again,” he said, motioning to the bed, to her.

Once was already too much.

In response, Selena’s face gave nothing away, but her scent said it all: The sadness came out of her very pores.

And yet she met him in the eye. “As you wish. But I shall be here if you change your mind.”

Man, she was nothing but self-possession as she stared him down, almost challenging him to stay away.

His self-control was not that good. But the situation he was in was that bad.

iAm was already at risk. If Selena were involved with him?

He didn’t want her falling into his Hell.

Oh, and as for Phury? He felt like shit saying nothing to the Primale. Just another way he’d dishonored her—but nothing good could come of a reveal like that.

“I have to go,” he muttered.

“As you wish.”

He reaaaaallly wanted her to stop saying that.

Trez all but stumbled from the room, and he didn’t remember anything of the trip down the stairs, through the dark house, and out into the bright, snowy side yard. Closing his eyes, it was a while before he could focus and concentrate enough to dematerialize …

… but he eventually made it to the Commodore, re-forming behind the rear service entrance’s Dumpster. Stepping out from it, the deliverymen who were unloading commercial cleaning supplies into the holding area ignored him, and so did the bike messenger who was streaking down the back alley.

But there were plenty of people waiting for him up on the eighteenth floor.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he cursed under his breath.

iAm was leaning up against the closed door, all casual except for the murder in his eyes. And with him? The whores Trez had arranged for s’Ex.

The queen’s executioner was undoubtedly on the terrace outside. Or prowling around the inner rooms after having broken in, in a rage.

Trez shoved his hands in his pockets—no keys. Fuck.

Did he forget them? Or were they on the floor of Selena’s bedroom?

Goddamn it.

“Missing something?” his brother drawled.

“Hey, boss,” one of the prostitutes said.

“Boss—”

“What’s up—”

The women spoke over themselves as they pumped their extensions and rearranged their bra cups. They were each wearing some version of keep-it-legal, but everything was short and tight and low-cut.

Not that they were going to stay clothed for long.

“Allow me,” iAm muttered, taking out his copper key.

After doing the deed with the lock, he swung the door wide and nodded for the girls to go inside.

As they shimmied in, the male narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking care of business,” Trez hissed back. “The only way I know how.”

Pushing past his brother, he strode into the living room. And just like the wraith he was, the executioner was waiting on the far side of the glass, his black robes wafting in the cold wind.

As the three prostitutes noticed him, they froze, either spellbound or scared shitless. Maybe both.

“Give me a minute, ladies,” Trez said as he went to the sliding doors. “I’ll send him down to you in the bedroom off that hall over there.”

“Yeah, okay, boss,” the one in the front answered.

He waited until they were out of the room before letting s’Ex in. Good thing—the executioner was pissed off, all but tearing the hood from his head.

Jabbing a finger into Trez’s face, he barked, “You be on time in the future. Or our agreement is null and void.”

Just as Trez was about to get all up in the bastard’s face, iAm stepped in. “We had a mandatory engagement for the King. Nothing we could get out of, and nothing that’s going to happen again.”

Black, glittering eyes swung in his brother’s direction. “You make sure of that.”

J.R. Ward's books