Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last

and self-satisfaction akin to that of postcoital bliss.
    Assail made a fist, the black leather of his glove creaking ever so subtly.
    And then he dematerialized into the very room, re-forming directly behind the male’s chair.
    On one level, he couldn’t believe that Elan didn’t fortify his abode with greater security—a fine steel mesh over the windows and within the walls, for example. Then again, the aristocrat clearly suffered from a lack of appropriate risk assessment—as well as an arrogance that would grant him a greater sense of safety than he actually possessed.
    “…and then Wrath shared a story about his father. I must confess, in person, the king is quite…ferocious. Although not enough to change my course, naturally.”
    No, Assail was going to take care of that.
    Elan leaned forward and reached for the cigarette. The thing was screwed onto one of those old-fashioned holders, the kind that females tended to use, and as he brought the end to his lips to take a drag, the tip extended out past the edge of the chair.
    Assail unsheathed a shiny steel blade that was as long as his forearm.
    It had e’re been his preferred weapon for this sort of thing.
    His heart rate was as steady as his hand, his breathing even and regular whilst he loomed behind the chair. With deliberation, he stepped to one side, positioning himself so that his reflection appeared in the window opposite the desk.
    “I am not aware whether it was the entire Brotherhood. How many of them are left? Seven or eight? This is part of the problem. We do not know who they are anymore.” Elan tapped his cigarette, thesmall stack of ash falling into the belly of the ashtray. “Now, whilst I was at the meeting, I instructed a colleague of mine to be in touch with you—I beg your pardon? Of course I gave him your number, and I resent the tone in your— Yes, he was here at the meeting at my home. He is going to— No, I shan’t do it again. Shall you cease interrupting me? I think so, yes.”
    Elan took a drag and released the smoke in a rush, his annoyance manifested in his breath. “May we move on? Thank you. As I was saying, my colleague shall be in touch with regard to a certain legal provision which may help us. He has explained it to me, but as it is rather technical, I assumed you would wish to question him yourself.”
    There was a rather long pause. And when Elan spoke next, his tone was calmer, as if placating words had soothed the ruffled feathers of his ego. “Oh, and one last thing. I took care of our little problem with a certain ‘business-minded’ gentlemale—”
    Assail deliberately curled up his fist.
    As that leather once again let out its quiet sound of protest, Elan straightened in his seat, his crossed foot returning to the floor, his spine stretching upward such that his head appeared over the back of the chair. He looked left. Looked right.
    “I must needs go—”
    At that moment, Elan’s eyes went to the window across from him, and he saw the reflection of his killer in the glass.

    As Xcor stood in an insulated room with a proper heating system, he had to admit he preferred Throe’s newest choice of living quarters over that warehouse dungeon they had been in previously. Mayhap he would thank the Shadow who had intruded, if their paths e’er crossed anew.
    Then again, perhaps the sense of warmth in his body was his temper flaring, and not a function of good, operational ductwork: The aristocrat on the other end of his cellular phone was testing his last nerve.
    He did
not
want to be contacted by anybody else on the Council. Managing one member of the
glymera
was quite enough.
    Although he typically took a pacifying approach with Elan, his wrath licked out. “Do not give my number to anyone else.”
    Elan and he went back and forth a bit, the aristocrat’s own ire rising.
    Which was, of course, no good. One wanted a usable tool in one’s hands. Not something with a prickly grip.
    “My apologies,” Xcor murmured after a bit. “It is just that I prefer to deal with decision makers only. That is why I contact you and you alone. I have no interest in the others. Only you.”
    As if Elan were a female and theirs was a romantic liaison.
    Xcor rolled his eyes as the aristocrat fell for it, and resumed his discourse. “…and one last thing. I took care of our little problem with a certain ‘business-minded’ gentlemale—”
    Instantly, Xcor’s attention picked up. What in Fate’s name had the