His two females were sitting at the end of the bed, his Mary in a black dress and Bitty in a bright blue frock that had been hastily made with pride by the household’s doggen. Both had silver bows around their waists, and between them on the duvet were two long bindings of satin ribbons in blue, black, and silver.
“Oh, my girls.” He just had to stop and look at them. “Oh, my beautiful females.”
Both of them blushed, and Mary was the first to cast it off as she got to her feet and put her hand out for Bitty.
“Here’re your ribbons,” his female said as they came over with the arrangement.
“Our ribbons,” he corrected.
As they left the room together, they joined a river of other people, everyone streaming down the grand staircase, making the turn, continuing through the hidden door and into the underground tunnel.
“It’s so long,” Bitty said as she walked between them. “The tunnel is long.”
“This is a big place,” Rhage murmured.
“Does anyone get lost ever?”
He thought of Lassiter. “No,” he grumbled. “Everyone always finds their way back. Especially fallen angels with bad T.V. viewing habits.”
“I resemble that remark,” Lassiter cracked from the back of the pack.
Through the supply closet. Out of the office. Into the gym, which had been specially lit with hundreds of candles.
Standing just inside the double doors, Layla, Qhuinn, and Blay were beside the incubators, which had been moved into the gym and skirted with white fabric just for this sacred occasion—and which would be removed back to Layla’s room as soon as this was over. Beside them, in a wheelchair and a suit and tie, Luchas was very much a part of the family, even though he remained quiet.
In vampire tradition, this ceremony was critical, and not something that could wait, considering that the medical team felt as though the infants were stable enough.
Still, everything was kept dark, and no one spoke so as not to agitate the young.
After all in the household, including servants, Trez, iAm and iAm’s mate, as well as all the Chosen and the directrix, and also Blaylock’s parents, had assembled together, Wrath and the Queen entered with George between them, and L.W. in Wrath’s arms.
Ordinarily, there would be long speeches in the Old Language, but in deference to the infants, Wrath kept it short.
“We gather here, this night, to welcome into the community the blooded son and the blooded daughter of the Black Dagger Brother Qhuinn, son of Lohstrong, and the Chosen Layla, begotten of the Primale and the Chosen Helhena, and the adopted son and the adopted daughter of Blaylock, blooded son of Rocke and of Lyric. May these young be of health and strength and long life, a testimony to the love of their fathers and their mother. Now, as King, I confer unto this female”—Wrath put out his hand and Beth guided him over to where the tiny female lay—“the name of Lyric, in honor of her grandmahmen on her father Blaylock’s side.”
As Blay’s mahmen sniffled and Qhuinn and Blay put their arms around her, Wrath laid his hand on the other incubator.
From all around, a burst of energy bubbled through the crowd, and Rhage shook his head, amazed that he got to be a witness to this.
With his royal dagger hand on the little male’s bassinette, Wrath pronounced, “In recognition of this young sire’s status as a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood, it has been petitioned unto me that I confer, as King, a Brotherhood name upon this male. I have considered the request and deem it appropriate. I hereby choose the venerable name Rhampage.”
A growl of approval rose up from the Brothers, and Rhage was right there with the others—because he knew that he was welcoming that male into their midst.
This was done right, he thought. This was the old way. The proper way. The way that preserved the traditions.
Rhampage.
It was a very good, very old name.
With his son in his arms and his shellan at his side, Wrath then placed the sacred red and black ribbons of the First Family on the skirting of both incubators.
And then, one by one, everybody did the same, each family unit heading up together, Phury and Cormia and Z, Bella and Nalla going after Wrath and Beth, followed by everyone from V, Jane, Payne and Manny, to Rehv and Ehlena, and John Matthew and Xhex.
When it was their turn, Rhage smiled down at his females and they approached the incubators. It was hard not to be emotional as three hands reached forward with his bloodline’s blue, black, and silver lengths, first on Lyric’s skirting and then on Rhampage’s. And afterward, all three of them went and hugged the family members.
So much love.
All around.
The Chosen went next, and then Trez and iAm and iAm’s Queen put a ruby from the Territory on each of the young’s bassinettes as a way of participating. After that, the doggen went, their ribbons thinner, but no less important.
As Rhage hung back and watched, he had one arm along Mary’s shoulders, and one arm on Bitty’s.
It was amazing how much things had changed when he thought back to that first night when he’d tried to get Mary to say luscious or whisper or strawberry.
She had countered him back then with nothing, said over and over again.
Funny, that she’d chosen that particular word. Because, in fact, she had over these last years given him absolutely, positively . . . everything.
SEVENTY-FOUR
It was a great party.
As Mary finally had to take a load off at the foot of the mansion’s grand staircase, she was breathing hard, her left heel had a blister on it, and she knew she was going to be stiff later. But the dancing—the dancing. wo females were sitting at the end of the bed, his Mary in a black dress and Bitty in a bright blue frock that had been hastily made with pride by the household’s doggen. Both had silver bows around their waists, and between them on the duvet were two long bindings of satin ribbons in blue, black, and silver.
“Oh, my girls.” He just had to stop and look at them. “Oh, my beautiful females.”
Both of them blushed, and Mary was the first to cast it off as she got to her feet and put her hand out for Bitty.
“Here’re your ribbons,” his female said as they came over with the arrangement.
“Our ribbons,” he corrected.
As they left the room together, they joined a river of other people, everyone streaming down the grand staircase, making the turn, continuing through the hidden door and into the underground tunnel.
“It’s so long,” Bitty said as she walked between them. “The tunnel is long.”
“This is a big place,” Rhage murmured.
“Does anyone get lost ever?”
He thought of Lassiter. “No,” he grumbled. “Everyone always finds their way back. Especially fallen angels with bad T.V. viewing habits.”
“I resemble that remark,” Lassiter cracked from the back of the pack.
Through the supply closet. Out of the office. Into the gym, which had been specially lit with hundreds of candles.
Standing just inside the double doors, Layla, Qhuinn, and Blay were beside the incubators, which had been moved into the gym and skirted with white fabric just for this sacred occasion—and which would be removed back to Layla’s room as soon as this was over. Beside them, in a wheelchair and a suit and tie, Luchas was very much a part of the family, even though he remained quiet.
In vampire tradition, this ceremony was critical, and not something that could wait, considering that the medical team felt as though the infants were stable enough.
Still, everything was kept dark, and no one spoke so as not to agitate the young.
After all in the household, including servants, Trez, iAm and iAm’s mate, as well as all the Chosen and the directrix, and also Blaylock’s parents, had assembled together, Wrath and the Queen entered with George between them, and L.W. in Wrath’s arms.
Ordinarily, there would be long speeches in the Old Language, but in deference to the infants, Wrath kept it short.
“We gather here, this night, to welcome into the community the blooded son and the blooded daughter of the Black Dagger Brother Qhuinn, son of Lohstrong, and the Chosen Layla, begotten of the Primale and the Chosen Helhena, and the adopted son and the adopted daughter of Blaylock, blooded son of Rocke and of Lyric. May these young be of health and strength and long life, a testimony to the love of their fathers and their mother. Now, as King, I confer unto this female”—Wrath put out his hand and Beth guided him over to where the tiny female lay—“the name of Lyric, in honor of her grandmahmen on her father Blaylock’s side.”
As Blay’s mahmen sniffled and Qhuinn and Blay put their arms around her, Wrath laid his hand on the other incubator.
From all around, a burst of energy bubbled through the crowd, and Rhage shook his head, amazed that he got to be a witness to this.
With his royal dagger hand on the little male’s bassinette, Wrath pronounced, “In recognition of this young sire’s status as a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood, it has been petitioned unto me that I confer, as King, a Brotherhood name upon this male. I have considered the request and deem it appropriate. I hereby choose the venerable name Rhampage.”
A growl of approval rose up from the Brothers, and Rhage was right there with the others—because he knew that he was welcoming that male into their midst.
This was done right, he thought. This was the old way. The proper way. The way that preserved the traditions.
Rhampage.
It was a very good, very old name.
With his son in his arms and his shellan at his side, Wrath then placed the sacred red and black ribbons of the First Family on the skirting of both incubators.
And then, one by one, everybody did the same, each family unit heading up together, Phury and Cormia and Z, Bella and Nalla going after Wrath and Beth, followed by everyone from V, Jane, Payne and Manny, to Rehv and Ehlena, and John Matthew and Xhex.
When it was their turn, Rhage smiled down at his females and they approached the incubators. It was hard not to be emotional as three hands reached forward with his bloodline’s blue, black, and silver lengths, first on Lyric’s skirting and then on Rhampage’s. And afterward, all three of them went and hugged the family members.
So much love.
All around.
The Chosen went next, and then Trez and iAm and iAm’s Queen put a ruby from the Territory on each of the young’s bassinettes as a way of participating. After that, the doggen went, their ribbons thinner, but no less important.
As Rhage hung back and watched, he had one arm along Mary’s shoulders, and one arm on Bitty’s.
It was amazing how much things had changed when he thought back to that first night when he’d tried to get Mary to say luscious or whisper or strawberry.
She had countered him back then with nothing, said over and over again.
Funny, that she’d chosen that particular word. Because, in fact, she had over these last years given him absolutely, positively . . . everything.
SEVENTY-FOUR
It was a great party.
As Mary finally had to take a load off at the foot of the mansion’s grand staircase, she was breathing hard, her left heel had a blister on it, and she knew she was going to be stiff later. But the dancing—the dancing.