She had gained much, sure. But she had lost everything she had ever known. And she’d done it for him, for them.

Right now, the most important thing was not the throne. No, it was living up to the standard she herself had set: He needed to put his signature where his mouth was. Even though he hated this whole fucking thing, from the aristocrats and the Band of Bastards to the sense of loss that came with this piece of cocksucking paper, he had to honor what he’d told his Beth.

Her traditions were just as weighty and important as his own.

If he didn’t do this? He was treating her with the same disrespect the Council had.

And this was the most logical way to circumvent the glymera.

A nice little get-it-up-ya to their machinations.

“Where’s the pen?” he growled.

When Rehv put the thing in his dagger hand, he squeezed Beth’s palm. “Where do I do it?”

“Right here,” she said roughly. “Here.”

He let her lead the pen’s nib to where there must have been a line, and then he scribbled his name.

“What happens now?” he demanded.

Rehv laughed with a nasty edge. “I roll this little missive up and shove it where the sun don’t shine.” There was the rustling of parchment. “They called for the ‘crowning’ to happen at midnight. Fucking shame I have to wait until then. Come on, Saxton, you need some food. You look like you’re ready to collapse.”

Wrath glanced over at the silent, unmoving crowd. “Well. Are you people eating or what.”

As conversation jumped into the silence, like his brothers knew he needed the attention elsewhere, he took Beth’s arm.

“Get us out of here,” he said harshly.

“Roger that.”

With quick efficiency, his shellan led him away from the noise and the food, and when he caught a whiff of burning wood, he guessed she’d taken him over toward the library.

“Lie down, George,” she said as she pulled up short at what he guessed was the doorway. “I know, I know you don’t want to sit out here, but we need a minute.”

Good call, he thought as he dropped his hold and walked forward on his own, his dagger hand stretched out. When he felt the mantel, he wished he could see the banked fire. He wanted to poke something hot and make it sizzle.

A click-click told him she’d shut them in.

“Thank you,” his Beth said.

He turned around. “Back at you.”

“It’s going to be all right.”

“If you’re talking about the Band of Bastards, I wouldn’t be so sure. There’ll be another angle. We’ve bought some time, but not solved the problem.”

Man, the bitterness in his voice was so not him. But this situation had changed him.

Thank God his father was dead—and wasn’t that something he’d never imagined thinking—

From behind him, Beth pressed herself against his body, her hands slipping up to his shoulders and rubbing the tight muscles. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

He had to laugh. “Elvis did do a great job.”

“You know what’s customary for humans to do after they make it official?”

“What?”

As her arms slipped around his waist, she came around, rose up on her tiptoes and kissed the side of his throat. And what do you know, his mood started to improve.

“Consummation,” she murmured. “It’s traditional for the man and wife to seal the deal, if you know what I mean.”

Wrath started to smile, but then he remembered the last time they were together—and the circumstances. “Are you sure you’re ready for that after … well, you know.”

“Very sure.”

To prove the point, she rubbed herself against him, and he had to curse. Instantly starved, he nonetheless reeled that wild side in as he dropped his head and took his wife’s mouth.

“Pick me up,” she said on a sigh.

As he complied, she pulled the dress she was wearing to her waist, her legs splitting to go around his hips.

“You’re not wearing any panties,” he groaned.

“I wanted to be prepared for this.”

“Jesus, I’m glad I didn’t know—I would have…”

He didn’t bother finishing that one. Instead, as she tightened a hold around his neck, he reached in between them and unbuttoned his slacks. Instantly, his cock sprang free, throbbing and hot, and as he settled her a little lower, he found her core—

“Shit! What if you’re pregnant?” he blurted, shoving her back. “Fuck—”

“Pregnant women have sex. Really. They do.”

Stretching up, she sucked in his lower lip and then nipped it with her fangs. “Unless you’re saying you don’t want me?”

He weaved in his shitkickers. “So not the case.”

He solved any confusion there by entering her slowly, pressing in, finding home in a gentle way. She didn’t seem to hurt any, but he wasn’t taking chances as his palms cupped her ass and he began to move her up and down on him.

“I love you,” he said into her hair. “Forever.”

As she murmured it back into his ear, a shaft of paranoia drained some of the heat out of his body.

Had his father said the same thing to his mother?

And he knew how that had ended.

From out of nowhere, V’s warning came to him, about the field of white and the future in his hands. What did—

“Wrath,” his wife whispered. “Come back to me. Focus on me here and now…”

With a groan of submission, he let all the bullshit go, doing as she’d commanded, feeling and knowing only the sensation of him pumping in and out of her. The orgasm was a quiet one, a wave that approached and retreated with all the thunder of a summer breeze. But as he came inside his female and felt her contract around him, it seemed more powerful than all the ones that had rocked his balls.

He did not want to let her go.

Ever.

Outside of Selena’s bedroom, Trez accepted the call—but didn’t get a “hello” in.

“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 …