Lover Reborn

“I’d like to carry it in myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh yes, of course… yes.” Shaking herself, she jogged over and punched in the code on the keypad by the garage doors.

As the left side trundled open, she went over and stood by the butler as Tohrment went back and forth at a steady pace, carrying his mate’s possessions with care, creating a tall, orderly pile right by the door that led into the kitchen.

“He’s packing up the house?” she whispered to Fritz.

“Yes, madam. We’ve worked all night—John, Qhuinn, myself, and him. He did their rooms and the kitchen, whilst the other males and I worked on the rest of the house. He’s asked me to return with him after this coming sunset so that all the furniture and the art can be moved to the mansion.”

Marissa put her hand up and covered her mouth so that her shock was less apparent. But she needn’t have worried about her reaction making Tohr uncomfortable; the Brother was solely focused on his task.

When the van was empty, he closed everything up and came around to her. Just as she was trying to marshal appropriate words of gratitude, of profound respect, of deepest sympathy, he cut her off by taking something out of his pocket—a velvet bag.

“I have one more thing. Give me your hand?” When she extended her palm, he loosened the cord at the neck of the thing. Tilting it upside down, he poured out—

“Oh, my God!” Marissa gasped.

Rubies. Big red rubies set with diamonds. Lots of them—a necklace—no, a necklace and a bracelet. Earrings, too. She needed both hands to hold it all.

“I bought these for her back in nineteen sixty-four. From Van Cleef and Arpels? It was supposed to be for our anniversary, but I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Wellsie wasn’t a big fan of jewelry—she liked art more. She always said that jewels were fussy. Anyway, you know, I saw these in a magazine at Darius’s—in a Town and Country. I thought they would go well with her red hair, and I wanted to do something over-the-top and romantic just to prove I could. She didn’t really care for them, but every year afterward, every single year without fail, she took the set out from the gun safe and put it on. And every year—every single year—I got to tell her that they didn’t hold a candle to how beautiful she was—” He stopped short. “I’m sorry, I’m totally rambling.”

“Tohr… I can’t accept these. This is too much—”

“I want you to sell ’em. Sell ’em and take the money and use it to expand the house in the back. Butch was saying something about you needing more space? I think they’ve got to be worth a quarter of a million, maybe more. Wellsie would have loved what you’re doing here—she would have supported it, volunteered with the females and the kids, really gotten involved. So, you know, there isn’t a better place for these to go.”

Marissa started to blink really fast—it was either that or have tears fall. It was just… he was being so brave.…

“Are you sure,” she said roughly. “Are you certain you want to do all this?”

“Yeah. It’s time. Holding on to it hasn’t brought her back and never will. But at least it can help the females in this house—so none of it’s wasted. It’s important to me that the things we bought together, had together, used together… aren’t, you know, wasted.”

At that, Tohr leaned in and gave her a quick hug. “Be well, Marissa.”

And then he closed up the van, helped the butler into the driver’s seat, and, with a final wave, dematerialized into the waning night.

Marissa looked down at the fortune in her hands, then back up at the van Fritz was cautiously reversing out of the driveway. As the doggen went, so she followed, walking down to the street, putting the gems back in their little bag. While he K-turned, she lifted her arm and waved. He did the same.

Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, she watched the tail lights fade.

With the weight of the gems still in her hands, she pivoted around toward the house and pictured the expansion she could do out into the rear yard, creating more rooms for more females and their young—especially underground, where it was safe during the day.

Her eyes misted over again, and this time there was no stopping the tears from hitting her cheeks. As the facility in front of her grew wavy, the future became clear: She knew exactly who she was going to name the new wing after.

Wellesandra had such a nice ring to it.

SIXTY-SIX

Layla had never been out close to dawn before, and she found it interesting to note that there was a real change in the air, a vitalization she could sense but not see: The sun was indeed powerful, capable of illuminating the whole world, and the gathering illumination made her skin prickle in alarm, some instinct bred deep in her flesh telling her now was the time to be heading home. Yet she did not want to go.

“How you doing?” Xhex asked from behind her.

For truth, it had been a long evening. They had been on the outskirts of Caldwell for hours, circling in the darkness, tracking Xcor and his fighters—which had proven easy enough to do. Her sense of the male was clear as a spotlighted location, her tie to him from that feeding months ago as yet unfaded. And on his side… Xcor appeared to be so caught up in his fighting that he did not know she was on the periphery; certainly if he was aware of her vicinity, he did not approach her, and nor did the other soldier.

“Layla?”

She glanced over at the female. “I know right where he is. He hasn’t moved.”

“That isn’t what I’m asking about.”

Layla had to smile a little. One of the big surprises of the night had been the symphath—whom she actually no longer felt comfortable defining as such. Xhex was razor-sharp mentally, and strong as a male physically, but there was a warmth to her that was at odds with those traits: She had never once left Layla’s side, hovering like a mahmen over a young, ever solicitous and careful, as if she knew that so much of this was foreign work under troubling circumstances for her charge.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

As Layla refocused on the signal of her blood some two blocks away, she stayed quiet.

“I’m sure you’re already aware of this,” Xhex murmured. “But you really are doing the right thing here.”

“I know. He’s changing positions.”

“Yeah, I can sense that.”

Abruptly, Layla turned toward a lofty, glowing beacon to the west: the highest skyscraper in the city. As she focused on the lights that blinked white and red at its apex, she imagined him standing in the gusting cold atop the monument, staking his claim to the city.

“Do you think he’s evil?” she asked roughly. “I mean, you can sense his emotions, yes?”

“To a point I can.”

“So… is he evil?”

The other female exhaled long and slow, as if she regretted what she had to share. “He wouldn’t be a good bet, Layla. Not for you, not for anyone—and not just because of the Wrath issue. Xcor’s got some sinister shit in him.”

“So he is a dark soul.”

“You don’t need to read him to know that. Just think about what he did to your king.”

“Yes. Yes, indeed.”

From Qhuinn to Xcor. Fabulous track record for picking males—

“He’s moving fast,” Layla said urgently. “He’s dematerialized.”

“This is it. This is where you come in.”

Layla closed her eyes and shut out all of her senses except the instinct to find her own blood. “He’s moving