Lover Reborn tbdb-10

by J. R. Ward

  He shook her again. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to open that door—just stay here. I’m going to do what I can, okay? I don’t have a lot of pull, I may not have any at all—but I’ll give it a fucking shot. You stay right where you are, and for the love of God, do not open that thing. Once you do, you’re in the Fade and I can’t do shit. Are we clear?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe I’m finally going to be an angel tonight.”

  “Wha— I don’t understand…?”

  Lassiter reached forward and cupped the side of her face. “You two have done so much for me—hell, we’ve all been in our own In Betweens, in a way. So I’m going to offer up everything I’ve got to save the pair of you—we’ll see if it’s enough.”

  She clasped a hold on to his hand. “Lassiter…”

  He stepped back and nodded to her. “You stay here and don’t get your hopes up. The Maker and I have not had the best relationship—I may just get incinerated on the spot. In which case, no offense, but you’re screwed.”

  Lassiter turned away and walked into the whiteness, his big body disappearing.

  Closing her eyes, Autumn tucked her arms around herself and prayed for the angel to work a miracle.

  Prayed with everything she had…

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  Down below on earth, Tohr felt as though he was losing his ever-loving mind. Lassiter was gone. Autumn was gone.

  And a terrible sense of logic was making him wonder why he hadn’t guessed at the mechanisms they’d been working under for the past year.

  Wellsie had been trapped in the In Between by him.

  And Autumn… had been trapped in the In Between by herself.

  Then by loving him, and forgiving not just him but herself, she had been freed—so just like Lassiter, she had been granted what she had not even known she was in search of: She had been given at long last the entrance to the Fade, that which she had been denied when she had taken her own life in a fit of terror and agony.

  Now she was free.

  “Oh… Jesus…” he said as he let himself fall into John’s strong arms. “Oh… fucking hell…”

  Now, like his Wellsie, she was gone from him, too.

  Bringing a hand up to his face, he rubbed hard, wondering if maybe he’d wake up from this… like maybe this was just the worst nightmare his subconscious could possibly dream up… yeah, like he’d wake up at any moment and drag himself out of bed to get ready for the Fade ceremony, where in the real world this would not be the outcome…

  There was only one problem with that theory: His back was still stinging from the salt and the branding. And his brothers were still milling around, talking over each other in a panic. And somewhere, somebody was yelling. And all around, the glow from candles provided plenty of light to tell who remained in the foyer and who had left.…

  “Oh, fuck…” he said again, his chest suddenly so empty he wondered if he hadn’t had his heart removed and not noticed.

  Time passed, and shit sank in, and he was taken into the billiards room. A drink was pressed into his hands, but he just let it sit on his thigh, his head falling back as John Matthew comforted Xhex and Phury talked to Wrath and some plan was made for the king to go confront the Scribe Virgin.

  At which point V stepped in and volunteered to hit up his mother.

  Which was promptly shot down. Only to have Payne’s offer to go with the king accepted.

  Blah, blah, blah…

  He didn’t have the heart to tell them all it was a foregone conclusion. And besides, he’d already been through the mourning process once—so he had a core competency in recovery, right?

  Yay.

  For godsakes, what the fuck had he done in an earlier life to deserve this? What the hell had he—

  The sound of the doorbell going off was a dim noise behind him. Nonetheless, everyone froze.

  Anybody who knew about the mansion was already here.

  Humans couldn’t find them.

  Lessers shouldn’t have been able to.

  And the latter was also true for Xcor—

  That doorbell let out its throaty demand once again.

  On a oner, all the brothers as well as Payne and Xhex, and Qhuinn, John, and Blay, outted weapons.

  Fritz was bodily prevented from going over to the vestibule; Vishous and Butch did the duty of checking the screen.

  And even though he didn’t give a crap whether it was the Scribe Virgin herself on the other side, Tohr focused on the foyer.

  A shout went out, an excited shout with a Boston accent. And then there were lots of shouts, a legion of them, too many to decipher.

  Someone in a white robe came in with V and his boy.

  Whatever—

  Tohr jacked up onto his feet, sure as if someone had hooked his ass up to a car battery.

  Autumn stood under the arches of the room, her eyes dazed and her hair a flyaway mess, as if she had been through a wind tunnel—

  Tohr plowed through big male bodies, shoving people out of the way to get to her. And when he did, he skidded to a halt. Grabbed her shoulders. Looked her over from head to foot. Shook her hard to get a sense of how corporeal she was.

  “Is it… truly you?”

  In response, she threw her arms around him and held on so hard, he couldn’t breathe—and thank fuck. Because that meant she was real, right? It had to be… right?

  “Lassiter… Lassiter did it.… Lassiter saved me.…”

  He tried to track what she was saying. “What… what are you— I don’t understand any of this—”

  The story came out several times in different iterations, because his mind just wasn’t tracking anything. Something about her making it up to the Fade, and that angel coming out and telling her…

  “He said he would give everything he had to save us. Everything…”

  Tohr pulled back and touched Autumn’s face, her throat, her shoulders. She was as real as he was. She was as alive as he was. She had been… saved by that angel?

  Except Lassiter had said he would be free if this worked.

  The only possible explanation was that he had traded his future… for theirs.

  “That angel,” he whispered. “That godforsaken angel…”

  Tohr bent down and kissed Autumn as deeply and for as long as he could. And as he did, he resolved to honor Lassiter, and himself, and his female as best as he was able, for however many years he had on the earth.

  “I love you,” he said to her. “And just like Lassiter, I’m going to give everything I’ve got to give to the two of us.”

  As Autumn nodded and kissed him back, he felt more than heard her say, “I love you,” back.

  Gathering her up in his arms, he held her close and closed his eyes, his body shaking from too much to describe. But he knew the score, and he was good with it.

  Life was short, no matter how many days you were granted. And people were precious, each and every one, no matter how many you were lucky enough to have in your life. And love… love was worth dying for.

  Worth living for, too.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  As dawn approached at the end of the darkened night, and the moon sunk low in the sky, Xcor left downtown Caldwell. After that ridiculous meeting with the glymera, he and his bastards had reconvened at the top of their skyscraper, but he hadn’t been able to stomach any strategizing or talk of the aristocrats.

  Upon ordering his soldiers to return to their newest home base, he escaped into the cold night air alone, knowing precisely where he had to go.

  To the meadow, the moon-washed meadow with the big tree.

  As he re-formed in the landscape, he saw it not covered in snow, but vibrant with fall’s colors, the oak’s branches not bare, but lush with red and gold leaves.

  Marching through the snow, he mounted the rolling earth, stopping when he came to the spot where he had seen the Chosen for the first time… and taken her blood.

&
nbsp; He remembered every bit of her, her face, her scent, her hair. The way she moved and the sound of her voice. The delicate structure of her body and the frightening fragility of her smooth skin.

  He yearned for her, his cold heart crying out in prayer for something that he knew fate could never provide.

  Closing his eyes, he planted his hands on his hips and lowered his head.

  The Brotherhood had found them at that farmhouse.

  The rifle case that Syphon used to keep the tools of his assassin’s trade was gone.

  Whoever had taken it had come and gone during the previous night. Which meant at sunset, they had packed up their few things and scattered for a new location.

  He knew the Chosen had been the cause of it. He could think of no other way their lair could have been located. And another thing was clear: The Brotherhood were going to use the rifle to prove with surety that the bullet driven into Wrath months ago had been from a weapon of theirs.

  How thorough of them.

  Indeed, Wrath was such a good little king. So careful not to behave rashly and without cause—and yet he was obviously capable of using any weapon at his disposal.

  Not that Xcor would find blame with the Chosen—not at all. He did, however, have to find out if she was safe. He simply had to be reassured that though his enemies had wielded her, they had not mistreated her.

  Oh, how his wicked heart churned at the idea that she might have been hurt in any way.…

  As he considered his options, a cold wind blew in from the north, trying to cut him to the core. It was too late, though. He was already sliced in the heart.

  That female had slashed him in a way no war wound ever could, and from the likes of her, he was never going to heal up.

  Good thing he didn’t ever allow his emotions to show, for it was best that no one knew his Achilles’ heel had finally, after all these years, come to find him.

  And now… he would have to find her.

  If only to put his conscience, such as he had one, at ease, he was going to have to see her again.

  SEVENTY-SIX

  Qhuinn didn’t know what the fuck was up. People fucking poofing it in and out of the fucking foyer, shit going south… until Autumn came the fuck back.

  If there had ever been a time to drop the f-bomb, tonight was it.

  But at least it ended okay, with all being recovered, and the ceremony completed: With Autumn standing beside Tohr, John had been branded twice, once for Wellsie, once for the lost brother he’d never meet. And then, after the salt had sealed those wounds, the crowd had gone up to the highest point in the house where Wellsie’s urn had been opened and revealed to the air, her ashes lovingly carried up and out to the heavens by the gusts of a rare easterly wind.

  Now, everyone was heading back down to the dining room to eat and recharge; after which they’d no doubt go off to pass the fuck out in their rooms as soon as they could politely disengage.

  Everybody was just about done, himself included, and that conviction had him turning to Layla as they reached the foyer. “How you doing?”

  Man, he’d been asking her that nonstop for three days straight, and each time, she’d told him she was fine, and hadn’t started to bleed yet.

  She wasn’t going to bleed. He was sure of this, even if she had yet to believe it.

  “I’m good,” she said with a smile, as if she appreciated his kindness.

  The good news was that they were getting along really well. He’d been worried after the needing that things would get weird or some shit, but they were like a team that had run a marathon, reached a goal, and were ready for the next challenge.

  “Can I get you some food?”

  “You know, I am hungry.”

  “Why don’t you head up, have a lie down, and I’ll bring you something.”

  “That would be lovely—thank you.”

  Yup, it was nice the way she smiled at him in that uncomplicated and warm way, the one that made him love her like family. And as he escorted her back over to the base of the stairs, it was good to smile at her in the same manner.

  All that simple-and-easy ended as he turned around. In the library, through the open doors, he saw Blay and Saxton talking. And then his cousin stepped in and pulled Blay into his arms. As the pair of them stood together, body on body, Qhuinn took a deep breath and felt a little death of his own come to him.

  He guessed this was how it ended for them.

  Separate lives, separate futures.

  Hard to think that they had started out inseparable—

  Abruptly, Blay’s blue stare found his.

  And what Qhuinn saw in it caused him to falter: Love shone out of that face, unadulterated love untempered by the shyness that was very much a part of his reserve.

  Blay didn’t look away.

  And for the first time… neither did Qhuinn.

  He didn’t know whether the emotion was about his cousin—it probably was—but he’d take it: He stared right back at Blaylock and let everything he had in his heart show in his face.

  He just let that shit fly.

  Because there was a lesson in this Fade ceremony tonight: You could lose the ones you loved in the blink of an eye—and he was willing to bet, when it happened, you weren’t thinking about all the reasons that could have kept you apart. You thought of all the reasons that kept you together.

  And, no doubt, how you wished you’d had more time. Even if you’d had centuries…

  When you were young, you thought time was a burden, something to be discharged as fast as possible so you could be grown-up. But it was such a bait-n-switch—when you were an adult, you came to realize that minutes and hours were the single most precious thing you had.

  No one got forever. And it was a fucking crime to waste what you were given.

  Enough, Qhuinn thought. Enough with the excuses, and the avoidance, and the trying to be someone, anyone else.

  Even if he got shanked, even if his precious little ego and his dumb-ass little heart got shattered into a million pieces, it was time to stop the bullshit.

  It was time to be a male.

  As Blay started to straighten, like a message had been received, Qhuinn thought, That’s right, buddy.

  Our future has come.

  EPILOGUE

  The following evening, Tohrment rolled over and found Autumn’s body in the sheets. She was warm and willing as he mounted her, her thighs splitting for him, her core welcoming him as he sank in deep and moved inside.

  They had fallen asleep together, sinking into the kind of rest you had when a journey was over and home had finally reappeared on the horizon.

  “Give me your mouth, my female,” he said softly in the dark.

  As her lips yielded to him, he let his body take over, the release not an earthquake, but more of a wave, an easing of tension rather than a chaotic explosion of stars. And as he continued to ride her in that gentle rhythm, making love to his Autumn, he was reassuring himself that she was real—that they were real.

  When it was over, he willed on a single light on the bedside table and traced her face with his fingertips. The way she smiled at him made him totally believe in a benevolent Maker.

  They were going to be mated, he thought. And he would add her name, the one he had given her, to his back, right below Wellsie’s. And she would be fully his shellan for however long they had together.

  “Do you want something to eat?” he whispered.

  She smiled some more. “Please.”

  “I’ll be right back, then.”

  “Wait, I’d like to come with you. I don’t know what I want.”

  “Then we’ll go down together.”

  It took some time to actually make it out of the bed, get dressed in pj’s, and wander down the hall of statues to the stairwell.

  Autumn paused at the top, as if she were remembering the night before and leery of getting anywhere near the space—like she might get sucked up into the Fade again.

  With a nod
of understanding, he swung her up into his arms. “I’ll carry you.”

  As she stared up into his face, she put her hand to his cheek, and didn’t have to speak. He knew exactly what she was thinking of.

  “I can’t believe Lassiter saved us, either,” he said.

  “I don’t want him suffering.”

  “Neither do I. He was a good guy. A real… angel, as it turned out.”

  Tohr started the descent, taking careful steps because he had a precious load. Down at the bottom, he paused for a moment to look at the depiction of the apple tree on the floor. He had let go of two females at the foot of one… and now he was in the position of carrying one of them back over it—thanks to that angel who had somehow pulled off a miracle.

  He was going to miss that son of a bitch; he really was. And he was going to be eternally grateful for—

  The doorbell chimed, loud and clear.

  Frowning, Tohr glanced over at the grandfather clock by the door to the butler’s pantry. Two in the afternoon? Who the hell could—

  The chime went off again.

  Striding across the mosaic floor, prepared to call for his brothers if he had to, he peered at the monitor—

  “Holy… shit.”

  “Who is it?”

  Tohr put Autumn down, freed the locking mechanism to the inner portal and put his female behind him in the event any daylight shone in.

  Lassiter walked in like he owned the place, that swagger back in full force, his smile as wide and naughty as ever, his blond and black hair marked with fresh snowflakes.

  As Tohr and Autumn stared at him with their mouths open, he held up two oversize McDonald’s bags.

  “I brought us all Big Macs,” he said happily. “I know you dig ’em, remember?”

  “What the…” Tohr tightened his grip on his shellan, just in case…well, shit, with the way things were going lately, anything could happen. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s your lucky day, motherfucker.” The angel did a little spin, piercings glinting, Mickey D’s bags flaring out. “Turned out there were three of us being tested, and I passed as well. The instant I pledged myself for you two, I was free—and after I thought about it for a while, I decided I’d rather be on earth doing good works than up there in the clouds. ’Cuz, you know, I’ve kinda gotten a ball rolling, and this compassion shit looks good on me. Besides, no Maury in heaven.”