Lover Reborn tbdb-10

by J. R. Ward

“Someone’s in her needing,” Layla announced. “I don’t think you two should go in—”

  Far down the hall, Doc Jane all but jumped out of one of the examination rooms. “You have to leave—Qhuinn and John, you’ve got to go—”

  “Who’s—” Qhuinn had to close his eyes and slow his breathing down: The motion was causing his cock to rub against his button fly, threatening a messy explosion. “Who is—”

  As some kind of wave intensified, he lost the ability to speak.

  Fuck, it was like he’d just come through his transition and was surrounded by naked females in all-access positions.

  “It’s Autumn,” Jane said, running toward them and ushering them back out into the parking lot. “Are you okay, Layla?”

  “I’m fine—”

  “She needs a quick physical,” Qhuinn mumbled as he turned for the Shadow’s car. “Just came close to passing out. Text me when you’re done, Layla, ’kay?”

  John was walking like a scarecrow as well—stiffly and without any coordination. Then again, when you had a baseball bat in your pants, you were hardly going to Fred Astaire around.

  As the heavy steel door shut them out, things got a little better, and by the time they had driven through the series of gates, short of a raging hard-on, he was feeling more rational.

  “Jesus,” Qhuinn said. “Bottle that shit and the Viagra boys are out of business.”

  Behind the wheel, John whistled an agreement.

  As the guy drove them around the base of the mountain and approached the main house from the front, Qhuinn squirmed in his leathers.

  He hadn’t done much sexually since… well, shit, almost a year ago, when he’d had some private time with that red-haired guy at the Iron Mask. After that, he hadn’t had much interest in anything or anyone, male or female. He didn’t even wake up hard anymore.

  Hell, given the length of his dry spell, he’d begun to think that he’d just burned through his allotment of orgasms: Considering how much fucking he’d done after his transition, it sure as shit seemed possible.

  But here he was, itching in his seat.

  Next door, John was doing the same, moving this way and that. Jacking himself up, pushing back.

  When the mansion finally made an appearance out of the mhis, Qhuinn dreaded going inside. There didn’t seem anything even remotely sexy or appealing about heading up to his room alone, jerking off once or twice, and then resuming his vigil in front of a dark TV screen.

  I’ve got nothing of my own. Nothing. Even my service can be taken away from me.

  Layla was so right about that: Although everyone made him welcome here, the bottom line was, he was allowed to hang because he served a purpose for John, as ahstrux nohtrum.

  Like Layla, however, he could be fired.

  And as for his future? He was certainly never going to be mated, because he wasn’t going to condemn some female to a loveless union, and he was never going to have any young—although, considering his mismatched eyes, maybe that was a good thing.

  Bottom line, he was staring down the barrel of countless centuries with no real home, no true family, no blood of his own.

  As he rubbed a hand through his hair and wondered whether there was any possibility his cock would magically deflate… he knew just what that Chosen meant when it came to empty.

  SIXTY

  Xhex needed intel. Stat.

  When Xcor had dematerialized away from her, he’d gone outside the scope of her radar within seconds. And yeah, she had a bead on his direction, but only an asshole wouldn’t camo the way to his hideout.

  Sure enough, as she followed what she could of him, she found herself stuck on the shores of the Hudson not far from her house: The trail got cold at that point, and not because the frigid north wind was blowing down the river.

  She kicked a random snowdrift and paced around. Retraced her steps back to the theater district. Scanned the rest of the city, going rooftop to rooftop.

  Nothing.

  She ended up back on top of that building where she’d seen John and the others, stalking around and cursing like a sailor. In the absence of physical clues, she was forced to go with the only other thing she had: the drama outside that dessert place.

  Taking out her phone, she texted John and waited. And waited. And… waited.

  Did they get ambushed on the way back?

  She texted again. Hit up Qhuinn—and got no reply.

  Damn it, what if something had happened? Just because Xcor had appeared to leave the city, that didn’t mean he couldn’t cycle around and intersect iAm’s SUV. Meanwhile, she was here chasing her tail like an idiot—

  Just as she was about to start another round of near-panicked texting, John hit her back: @ hm safe. Srry wz dwn in clinic.

  Dialing back on her chick-out, she took a deep breath and texted back: We need to talk about Layla. Let me come to the house.

  It was possible that Qhuinn wouldn’t want to leave the Chosen in her condition, and Xhex didn’t want John to drag his ahstrux nohtrum out just for a meeting.

  Instead of waiting for a response, she flashed herself over to the mansion and strode up the steps and into the vestibule. The inner door opened immediately, and Fritz appeared frazzled.

  “Good evening, my lady.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  The butler bowed and shuffled backward. “Oh, indeed. Yes. Whom are you here to see?”

  There was a time when that wouldn’t have been a question. “John. Is he at the clinic?”

  “Oh… no. No, definitely not there. He is upstairs.”

  Xhex frowned. “Is there any problem?”

  “Oh, no. Please, madam, go forth.”

  Bullshit there wasn’t something going on. She crossed the mosaic apple tree at a jog and took the stairs two at a time. When she got to the second floor, she hesitated.

  Even out in the hall, she could catch the scent of sex—a mixed bag of it, actually, suggesting there were multiples going on. Literally.

  And didn’t that make her feel like throwing up.

  As she approached John’s door, she braced herself for whatever could be on the other side. Layla was trained as an ehros, and Qhuinn had long been up for anything—and maybe this separation had led her mate into the arms of others.

  With a dead heart, she knocked loudly. “John? It’s me.”

  Closing her eyes, she imagined naked bodies freezing, people looking back and forth, John scrambling to get something to cover himself. There was no reading grids—she was too scattered to pull that off. No sorting through the scents, either—she was having enough trouble staying on her feet because she knew at least one of them was John’s.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  Instead of the door opening, she got a text on her phone: Am soz—busy. Can I cm find u l8r?

  Fuck that and the horse it rode in on.

  Xhex grabbed the doorknob, twisted hard enough to break the thing off, and shoved her way—

  Holy. Shit.

  John was by himself on his bed, lying on top of twisted sheets, his naked body gleaming in the light that bled in from the bathroom. One hand was between his legs, his big fist locked on his thick cock… the other was gripping the headboard for leverage as he worked himself, his teeth bared, the muscles in his shoulders and neck standing out in stark relief as he strained.

  Shiiiiit. His lower abdomen was slick from other orgasms, and yet he seemed starved for release.

  Fevered eyes met hers as his hand stilled. Go, he mouthed. Please…

  She quickly stepped inside and shut the door. This was not something anyone else needed to see.

  Please! he demanded.

  Please, indeed, she thought to herself, her own body responding, her own blood starting to pump.

  Stepping over the crumpled discards of what he’d been wearing in the theater district, she could think only about how much she had missed the carnal side of him. It was as if she had been shut down during these long months—and
yeah, it would have been far better for her to walk out, let him deal with his rock-and-a-hard-place by his lonesome, and reconvene later.

  But, God, she had missed being his female.

  I can’t stop, he mouthed. Autumn in her needing—got too close.

  Ah. That explained it. Except… “Is my mother okay?”

  At Jane’s, and yes.

  God, that poor female. To have to suffer through that again after all she’d been through. But at least Jane would ease the suffering—assuming Tohr didn’t.…

  Right, she was so not getting close to that one.

  Xhex, you have… to go.…

  “What if I don’t want to.”

  At that, his body undulated wildly, sure as if she were already touching him, and he orgasmed hard, his grip slipping up and down as he came all over the muscled expanse of his lower belly.

  Well, wasn’t that a very well-spoken answer: He wanted her, too.

  Xhex stepped up to the edge of the bed and reached out, brushing his churning thigh with her fingertips. The light contact was enough to keep his release going, his hips thrusting up, his sex kicking, his warrior body contracting as the pleasure rocked through him.

  Bending down, she shoved his pumping hand aside and captured him with her mouth, sucking him off, finishing him the right way as he thrashed in the sheets. And as soon as he was done, at least with that particular release, he stilled for only a nanosecond before sitting up and reaching for her.

  She went to him with ease, kissing him as he pulled her on top of his body. His hands, those big, familiar hands, roamed everywhere… until they settled on her ass, and jacked her upward so he could nestle his face into her breasts—

  With a quick slash of his fangs, he bit through her muscle shirt, and latched onto her nipple, sucking, and licking as she helped him out, pulling her jacket off, ditching her weapons, and—

  John flipped her over onto her back and snarled soundlessly at her leathers.

  Things didn’t go well for them—which, considering how tough cowhide was, said something about all the get-naked that was happening. At least he knew better than to mess with her cilices, though.

  As soon as they were in position, he pushed into her with a jab, and the sting of the stretch was enough to throw her right into a bone-bending orgasm. He followed, joining her, their bodies working each other while she cried out.

  And still he kept riding her, the relentless pounding giving her more of exactly what she needed.

  Baring her fangs, she waited until he paused for a moment—then she struck. Biting him hard, she shoved him over onto his back, forcing him flat on the mattress so she could straddle him. And as she held him down by the shoulders and drew against his throat, she resumed the fucking, her thighs lifting her up and pushing her down, working his erection.

  John’s surrender to her was complete. His arms stayed to the sides, his strength ceded to her, his body hers to use until she drained him dry up at his neck and down at his hips.

  As she took him, his eyes stayed locked on her face, the love shining out of them so great, they were a pair of blue suns raining warmth all over her.

  How in the world could she ever live without him…

  Releasing his throat temporarily, she rode out the current orgasm, burying her face into his shoulder as things got so violent she couldn’t keep contact with his throat. But she knew his vein was hers for the taking, as soon as it was over…

  Man, life was complicated. But the truth was simple.

  He was her home.

  He was where she belonged.

  Rolling to the side, she encouraged him to follow her, and he came with her as easy as water, as hot as fire. It was his turn to feed… and given the way his eyes zeroed in on her jugular, he agreed with her.

  “Let me seal you first,” she said as she went for her puncture marks.

  He took her wrist and held her back, shaking his head. No—I want to bleed for you.

  Xhex closed her eyes, her throat tightening.

  It was hard to say where this was going to lead them, because she never would have predicted their split in the first place. But it was so damned good to be home… even if this was just a short stay.

  Hours passed, the night waning and dawn arriving; and then the sun rose from the lip of the horizon, ascending to its noonday heights, washing the snow-covered mountain with light.

  Autumn was unaware of any of this—and that would have been true whether she was down in the clinic or up at the mansion… or out in the snow.

  In fact, she might as well have been directly in the sunshine.

  She was on fire.

  The blazing heat in her womb reminded her of the birthing of Xhexania, the agony rising to heights that made her wonder if death wasn’t coming for her, before easing off just enough so she could catch her breath and prepare for the next peak. And as with labor, the cycling persisted, the moments of relenting becoming farther and farther apart until the pain of the need filled out the contours of her body and took over all movement, all breath, all thought.

  It had not been like this before. Back when she’d been with that symphath, the needing hadn’t been half this strong.…

  Or half this long…

  After however many hours of torture, she had no more tears left, no more sobs, not even any twitches. She just lay in stillness, barely breathing, her heartbeat sluggish, her eyes closed as her body was yet assaulted internally.

  It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the tipping point came upon her, but gradually the throbbing between her legs and the burning in her pelvis drifted away, the rigors of the needing replaced with an abiding soreness in her joints and her muscles from all the straining she’d done.

  When she could finally raise her head, her neck cracked loudly, and she groaned as her face hit a wall of some sort. Frowning, she tried to orient herself… oh, indeed, she was at the foot of the bed, pressed up against the short board at its end.

  She laid her head back down for a while. With the boiling heat easing to a mere simmer, she began to feel cold, and she fumbled around for a sheet, or a blanket, or a cover of any sort. There was nothing—all was on the floor: She was naked on a bare mattress—clearly she’d ripped off even the fitted sheet.

  Summoning what little energy she had, she attempted to push her torso up and lift her head. She made little progress. It was as if there was glue holding her down…

  Eventually, she rose up.

  The trip to the bathroom was as arduous and treacherous as a hike up a mountainside, but lo, the joy with which she beheld the shower and turned it on.

  As temperate water fell generously from the spout anchored upon the wall, she sat down on the tile beneath it, tucking her heels up against her bottom, hugging herself around her knees. As she laid her head to the side, the gentle spray washed away the salt of her tears and her sweat.

  The shivers turned violent shortly thereafter.

  “Autumn?” came Doc Jane’s voice from the room beyond.

  Her rattling teeth prevented her from replying, but the shower said enough: The other female appeared in the doorway, and then ventured further into the bath, until she pulled back the cloth curtain and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  Abruptly, Autumn had to shield her face as she began crying.

  Hard to know whether the outburst was because the needing had finally passed, or because she was so tired she had no boundaries left… or because the last thing she remembered before everything became a blur was the sight of Tohr driving those two needles into his thighs and falling to the floor.

  “Autumn, can you hear me?”

  “Yes…” she croaked.

  “I’d like to get you back in bed if you’re done washing up. There’s a lot of heat in here, and I’m worried about your blood pressure.”

  “I’m c-c-cold.”

  “That’s fever chills. I’m going to turn off the water now, okay?”


  She nodded, because she didn’t have the wherewithal to do anything else.

  When the warm rain stopped falling, the rattling inside her skin got worse as the cold rushed in and traveled across her tender flesh. Soon enough, however, a soft blanket was draped around her shoulders.

  “Can you stand?” When Autumn nodded again, she was helped up, dressed in a light sheath and escorted back over to the bed—which had magically been remade with fresh sheets and blankets.

  Stretching out, she was aware only of the tears that seeped from the corners of both eyes, an endless, slow stream of them, hot against her cold face.

  “Shhh, you’re okay,” the healer said, as she sat down on the edge of the mattress. “You’re all right—it’s over.…”

  As a gentle hand stroked her wet hair back, the tone of Doc Jane’s voice, more than the female’s actual words, helped the most.

  And then there was a straw sticking out of a soda can, brought close to her mouth.

  One draw of that cold, sweet nectar and Autumn’s eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh… blessed Virgin Scribe… what is that?”

  “Ginger ale. And you’re welcome—hey, not too fast.”

  After she’d finished the whole lot of it, she lay back again as a band was shuffled onto her arm and puffed up before being deflated. Next, a cold disk was pressed to her chest in a couple of places. A light was flashed in her eyes.

  “May I have some more ginger ale, please?” she asked.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  The healer did one better than that, returning not only with another chilly tin can and a straw, but some plain crackers that tasted like absolutely nothing and were total heaven in her belly.

  She was making quick work of the sustenance when she realized the healer had sat down in a chair and was saying nothing.

  Autumn stopped eating. “Do you not have any other patients?”

  “Just one, and she was fine when she got here.”

  “Oh.” Autumn picked up another of the crackers. “What are these called?”

  “Saltines. Of all the drugs I dispense down here, sometimes there’s nothing better.”

  “They’re wonderful.” She put the flaky, dusty square in her mouth and bit down. As a silence persisted, she said, “You want to know why I refused the drugs.”