Lover Reborn

“Absolutely not, but—”

“Did you in fact tell John and Qhuinn where he was when you were leaving town last night.”

“Yes, but—”

“Enough with the buts then.” The king smiled again and put his hand to her face, brushing her cheek lightly in spite of his blindness. “You’ve got a big heart, and they knew it. They took advantage of your trust, and used you.”

Phury nodded. “I should have told you who you were feeding in the first place, but the war’s a messy, nasty business, and I didn’t want you to get sucked into it. It never dawned on me that Throe would seek you out—but I shouldn’t be surprised. The Band of Bastards is ruthless to the core.”

In a rush, she put her free hand up to her mouth, holding in a sob. “I’m so sorry—I swear to the both of you—I had no idea—”

Phury stepped in and drew her against him. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.… I don’t want you to think about this again.”

As she turned her head to the side to rest it upon his heavy pectoral, she knew that wasn’t possible. Unwittingly or not, she had betrayed the only family she had, and that wasn’t the kind of thing someone could just shrug off—even if her stupidity was forgiven. And these past tense hours, when her fate had been unknown and her loneliness revealed to its fullest extent, were not going to be brushed away, either.

“The only thing I ask,” Wrath said, “is that if he contacts you again—if any of them do—you tell us immediately.”

She pulled free and had the temerity to reach for the king’s dagger hand. As if Wrath knew what she wanted, he gave his palm over to her readily, the great black diamond flashing on his finger.

Bowing her head and placing her lips upon the symbol of the monarchy, she spoke in the Old Language. “With all that I have, and all that I am, I so swear.”

As she made the pact with her king, in front of the Primale and two witnesses, an image of Xcor played across her mind’s eye. She remembered every detail about his face and his warrior’s body—

From out of nowhere, a shot of heat speared through her.

It mattered not, however. Her body might be a traitor; her heart and soul were not.

Straightening, she stared at the king. “Let me help you find him,” she heard herself say. “My blood is in his veins. I can—”

Qhuinn cut her off. “Absolutely not. No fucking way—”

She ignored him. “Let me prove to you my fealty.”

Wrath shook his head. “You don’t have to. You’re a female of worth, and we’re not endangering your life.”

“I agree,” the Primale said. “We’ll deal with those fighters. They’re nothing for you to worry about—and now I want you to take care of yourself. You look exhausted, and you must be starved—go get yourself some food and have a sleep at the mansion.”

Wrath nodded. “I’m sorry we took so long to come to you. Beth and I were down in Manhattan having some R and R, and we just arrived back at nightfall.”

Layla nodded and agreed with everything else that was said, but only because she was suddenly too exhausted to stay on her feet much longer. Fortunately, the king and the Primale left soon thereafter, and then Qhuinn and John took over, leading her back to the mansion, taking her to the kitchen, and sitting her down at the counter as they popped open refrigerator and pantry doors.

It was sweet of them to want to wait on her, especially given that they didn’t know their way around even boiling an egg. The thought of food turned her stomach, however, making her gag.

“No, please,” she said, waving away leftovers from First Meal. “Oh… dearest Virgin Scribe… no.”

As they fixed themselves plates of turkey and mashed potatoes and some kind of broccoli mix, she tried not to see or smell any of it.

“What’s the matter?” Qhuinn said as he slid onto the stool next to her.

“I don’t know.” She should have been relieved that Wrath and Phury were so forgiving of her transgression. Instead, she was more anxious than ever. “I don’t feel right… I want to help. I want to make amends. I—”

John began signing something from over by the microwave—but whatever it was, Qhuinn shook his head and refused to translate.

“What is he saying?” she demanded. When she got no response, she put her hand on the male’s arm. “What’s he saying, Qhuinn?”

“Nothing. John ain’t sayin’ no goddamn thing.”

The other male didn’t appreciate the shutout, but he didn’t argue either as he prepared a second plate of food, no doubt for Xhex.

After John excused himself to go feed his shellan, the silence in the kitchen was broken only by the sound of Qhuinn’s silverware against his plate.

It was not long before she was ready to jump out of her skin, and to keep from screaming, she began to pace around.

“You really should rest,” Qhuinn murmured.

“I can’t seem to settle.”

“Try to eat something.”

“Dearest Virgin Scribe, no. My stomach’s a mess—and it’s so hot in here.”

Qhuinn frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

Layla just kept walking, faster and faster—and she supposed it was because she was trying to get away from the images in her head: Xcor looking up at her. Xcor taking her vein. Xcor’s big body… his massive, warrior body laid out before her and clearly aroused from the taste of her blood—

“What the hell are you thinking about?” Qhuinn asked darkly.

She stopped short. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Qhuinn shifted on his stool, and then abruptly shoved his half-eaten food away.

“I should leave you,” she announced.

“Nah, it’s cool. Guess I’m tetchy, too.”

As he got up from the counter with his dishes, her eyes traveled down his torso and widened. He was… aroused.

Just as she was.

Remnants of Autumn’s needing, clearly—

The heat wave came over her in such a rush, she barely had time to grab onto the granite counter to keep herself standing, and she coudn’t respond as she heard Qhuinn shout her name from a distance.

Need gripped her body, fisting her womb, making her buckle under its force.

“Oh… dearest Virgin Scribe…” Between her legs, her sex opened, the blossoming having nothing to do with Xcor or Qhuinn or any outside force.

The arousal came from inside of herself.

Her needing…

It hadn’t been enough. The visits to the Sanctuary hadn’t been enough to keep her from being caught by Autumn’s—

The next surge of yearning threatened to take her to her knees, but Qhuinn was there to catch her before she hit the hard tile. As he dragged her into his arms, she knew she didn’t have much time to be rational. And knew the resolution that abruptly came upon her was at once utterly unfair and totally undeniable.

“Service me,” she said, cutting off whatever it was he was saying to her. “I know you don’t love me, and I know we won’t be together afterward, but service me so that I can have something that’s mine. So you can have something that’s yours.”

As the blood drained out of his face and his mismatched eyes bulged, she forged on, talking in fast gasps. “We both have no true family. We’re both alone. Service me… service me and change all that. Service me so that we may each have a future that is at least partially our own.… Service me, Qhuinn.… I beg of you… service me. …”