“Yes.” Syn winked. “I am.”

Jo kissed him and got serious. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what? I’ve not really done anything.”

Reaching up, she traced the features she loved so much with her fingertips. “For giving me a home. A proper home.”

“Well, this mansion isn’t mine—”

“I’m not talking about the building we’re in.” She thought of her lonely childhood, her sense of being lost in the world even as she lived around other people. “More than the answers to who I am, I’ve been searching for a home. You are my home. You, and only you, are my shelter and my comfort.”

“I don’t deserve that.” His expression darkened. “Jo, there are still things you have to know about me. About things I’ve done. I mean, I’m not that person anymore, but—”

“I will listen to everything and anything you have to say. But you need to know that the male you are now, and the male you’ve always been with me, is the one I will love forever.”

“You make me want to be a hero, not a sinner.”

“Well, from my point of view, you’re very good at the former. And after everything that’s happened, I believe I am in the best position to judge that, don’t you think.”

They started kissing again, and that led to . . . all kinds of things. And as he climaxed inside of her once again, Jo held her male tightly. He was right. There were things to learn about him, and things he had to learn about her, stories to share and feelings to express—not all of them happy-go-lucky. But they had plenty of time for those sorts of things.

When you had a happily-ever-after, you had time.

When you had true love, you had everything you needed.

As Syn collapsed on top of her, breathing hard and sated once more, she stroked his back and smiled up at the ceiling. Except then he pulled back sharply.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I know the first thing we need to do together as a couple.”

Jo breathed in as part of replying to him, and that was when she caught the scent of bacon. As her stomach let out a howl, she held up her forefinger.

“Eat breakfast.”

Syn laughed. “Well, yes. And we call it First Meal in this house.”

“Tomato, tomahto, as long as there’s bacon involved and some eggs, and chocolate somehow, I’m good to go.”

“You can have everything you want—but if you’re moving in with me?” He kissed her as if he couldn’t resist doing so. “We’re going to go out and buy some furniture for my room.”

“You don’t like this antique look?”

“This isn’t where I normally sleep—I have nothing in my room.” Syn kissed her some more, his sex stirring yet again. In a low purr, he murmured, “And you and I are going to fill it up, together.”

Jo chuckled as they began moving as one again, so happy—and kind of honored—that she was the only female his body had ever released into.

“Filling up is something you’re quite good at.”

“But I better keep practicing,” he said against her mouth.

It was another hour before Syn could quit it with the sex. And even then, when they got in the shower, he couldn’t resist pressing his female up against the warm marble wall and finding his way inside of her again.

But finally they were heading out of the guest room they’d been given. He had a limp, and at least four bullets still inside his body, but it was nothing that couldn’t wait for Manny’s attention—

As they came out the far end of the Hall of Statues, Jo lost her stride and widened her eyes as she focused on the painted ceiling high above the grand staircase. And the gold-leafed balustrade. And the many doors that went off in both directions.

“Dear Lord . . . this place is incredible,” she whispered with awe. “It’s a palace.”

“Actually, it truly is a home first and foremost, no matter how fancy it is.” Syn took her hand and led her down the grand staircase, heading for the laughter and chatter which were bubbling out of the formal dining room. “And the people in it are a family.”

When they bottomed out on the mosaic depiction of that apple tree in full bloom, he gave her a moment to look around, and then brace herself. As he’d explained in the shower, the whole crew was in there, Wrath having given everyone the night off—so First Meal was in full swing and then some.

“They’re going to love you,” he said as he urged her forward.

“Well, some nice female’s already lent me their clothes,” she said as she nodded down at her clean jeans and sweatshirt.

“That was Beth. The Queen.”

“Oh. Wow.”

As soon as they entered the archway into the dining room, all the people around that huge table stopped talking. And then came the screech of chairs being pushed back, and high-pitched, excited “hi”s from the females, and too many people coming over all at once, everyone eager to welcome the new member of the family.

Literally.

At the head of the table, Wrath got to his feet, and as soon as he spoke, everyone shut the hell up. “My cousin has arrived.”

Jo’s eyes popped wide as she got a gander at the last purebred vampire on the planet in all his glory: The sunglasses, the ass-length hair, the black leather, and the tattoos on the insides of his massive forearms.

Plus the golden retriever.

And the baby in his arms.

Syn took Jo’s hand and led her down the formal room, whispering in her ear about how to handle the meet-and-greet of the male who was her blooded relation.

“Do I call you Your Majesty?” she asked with respect.

“Nah.” Wrath put out his hand. “Just my name. I don’t stand on all that bullshit cult of position stuff.”

Jo took his palm in her own and, just as Syn had coached her, bent down to kiss the massive black diamond that every King had always worn, from Wrath’s sire, all the way back to the first ruler.

“I know you’ve already met my shellan when she gave you the clothes, but this is my son, L.W.,” the King explained. “And this is George.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“And the kid’s not bad, either, right?”

Jo laughed. Then she said, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

Wrath’s nostrils flared. And then he smiled that fierce smile of his.

Putting his huge hand on her shoulder, he said in his commanding voice. “You’re family. Where else would you live?”

Jo ducked her eyes and seemed to have to blink away the tears. As Syn slipped an arm around her waist, so she knew he was there for her, she said, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

“Blood is thicker than water,” the King said gently. “And your blood, your place, is here with us.”

As Wrath nodded, like everything was settled and that was that, Syn folded Jo up against his chest. Over the top of his beloved, he inclined his head once to the King.

It was a vow. Freely given, and forevermore.

He would ever fight to protect the King and the people in this house—not because of what Xcor had sworn to sometime ago, or because fighting served a perverted inner need, but because he would always protect those who were his family.

And all of them were in this room.

Wrath lifted the sacred ring of the ruler, and nodded back, accepting the pledge. After which . . . it was time to eat.

As Syn took Jo over to the two seats that had been saved for them, he said, “Bacon and chocolate, right?”

“Oh, my God.” Jo took his hand and squeezed it urgently. “Yes. Please. How did you know?”

As Syn and his female, Jo, made their way to their places at the meal, Wrath stepped to the side and found himself still grappling with his new reality. The war was over. Finally.

Holding his son in his arms, he imagined the faces of the people sitting around his table. He could tell who was seated where by the sounds of the voices, and also the scents. But it wasn’t the same as being able to see.

Still, he would take what he had and be grateful.

Whispering a command to George, he let his dog lead him where he wanted to go, the pair of them making steady progress to the base of the grand staircase. The ascension was an easy one, and at the top, Wrath continued straight ahead, entering his study.

With a deep breath, he pictured from memory what was across the space.

The chair.

The ancient, carved throne, that his father had sat upon.

As Wrath crossed over toward it, he went back into his past and recalled being in that crawl space in the Old Country’s palace, watching as the lessers streamed in and slaughtered his parents. So helpless he had been, a weak pretrans, hidden by his mahmen and his sire, protected by those he should have protected.

When George signaled he’d arrived at his destination, Wrath reached out into thin air, moving his hand around until he found the throne’s high back. It seemed apt that the King’s ring made contact with the old wood with a clonk.

Holding L.W. extra close, he gripped the carvings that had been made so long ago.

“It’s over, Father,” he said in a voice that cracked. “It’s done. We won.”

As a wave of emotion overtook him, he sat down and arranged his blooded son in his lap, holding his precious one close.

That was when he heard the meow.

Angling his head to the sound, he frowned. And then . . . “Analisse?”

The Scribe Virgin’s presence registered as a weight in the room. He wasn’t sure he could describe it better than that.

“Yes,” she said in that voice of hers. “’Tis I.”

To cover his emotion, he chuckled. “I asked you a question, did I. Such a no-no.”

“Those nights are past, my old friend.”

Wrath sensed her moving closer to the desk. “We won. But you know that, don’t you.”

“Yes.”

“I wish my father were here to see this. My mahmen, too.”