The image of kidnapped boys and girls raptly listening to tales of a woman’s past while wishing for celebrations of their own pummeled Layla’s heart, but she blinked her stinging eyes and smiled. “That’s a good reason to be here, Trey.”
She turned to the nearest chair, which was slightly bigger than the others and was draped with garland, but at least it wasn’t a throne. “Is this my seat?”
“It is,” Anghus confirmed. “There are enough chairs for your family and plenty of room for your security. If you need a moment of privacy, you’re welcome to use that tent.” He motioned to the east side of the clearing. “That’s why it’s there. Once you get settled in, everyone would like your permission to stop by and greet you.”
Layla glanced at Quin, accepting his I told you so look. Then she forced a smile and turned to Anghus. “Sure. We’d like to greet them, as well. I just didn’t expect it to be so formal.”
Anghus slid his gaze over Tristan and the Crusaders, who were taking up protective posts around the chairs. “There are too many of us to casually mingle without alarming your security.”
“I see,” Layla conceded. “But the children shouldn’t have to spend their day waiting in line. This is Benzio. We adopted him from the Dark Guild. And that’s Alana and Brayden. May we make room nearby so they can play with the other children? I’ll spend time with the kids before taking a seat and greeting the adults.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. The kids will be thrilled.”
Anghus called to a few wizards, instructing them to clear an area for the children to play, but before the men could follow through, Quin made another request.
“We have a last minute guest coming – the brother of one of our members. A few of us will be meeting him about a mile away in an hour. When he gets here, we’ll need another chair so he can sit with his sister.”
Aradia perked up and mouthed the words thank you to Quin, and Anghus told his helpers to make room for another chair.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he insisted, motioning to Layla’s seat. “We’ll organize the changes.”
Quin vanished Layla’s cloak and urged her to sit. “We’ll stay here, but several of our coven members have food in their bags. They need to coordinate with whoever is overseeing the meal.”
“Of course,” Anghus agreed. “I’ll show them the way.”
He was eager to help, but seemed reluctant to leave, as if once he walked away, he might not get a chance to come back.
“Great,” Quin approved, making himself as comfortable as possible while surrounded by former enemies. “Will we get another visit with you before we leave?”
Anghus’ smile widened. “I do hope so.” Then he set off to complete his tasks, but he continued talking as he walked away. “Let us know if you need anything else.”
Once he was out of earshot, Layla looked at Quin while stifling the urge to roll her eyes, but he didn’t need to see them roll to know she thought this was ridiculous.
“It’s only one day, love. And it means a lot to them that you’re here. That makes it worth it, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t sign up to be elevated like this. It’s weird.”
The little girl who’d given Brietta an adorable greeting was now dragging her and Kegan through the clearing to show them the rest of the decorations, but when Brietta overheard Layla, she halted and glanced down the row of chairs. “It’s like a wedding party receiving line. We need to add that to the planning, Keg. Put it on the list.”
“Okay,” he agreed, accustomed to giving Brietta whatever she wanted, but then he hesitated and looked up. “Wait… I didn’t bring the list.”
“What? You should always have that list. There are a million things we need to do before the wedding. Why wouldn’t you bring the list?”
“Because this day wasn’t designated for planning.”
Brietta gave an exasperated sigh and let the little girl pull them along. “Every day, Keg. Until this wedding happens, every day is planning day. There’s too much to be done and only two months to do it.”
They kept arguing as their voices faded, and Layla shook her head while watching their backs. “And that’s why I don’t want to get married.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, realizing how her comment might make Quin feel. Then she slowly turned her head and peeked at him. His expression was smooth and stoic, not a hint of anger or approval, just an intense stare undoubtedly hiding profound contemplation.
“I’m sorry,” Layla offered. “That was insensitive.”
He shrugged, still a mystery of emotions. “It sounded like the truth.”
“Well… yeah, I guess it is. I have no interest in planning a wedding, and most of the traditions don’t appeal to me.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m sorry, Quin. It doesn’t change how much I love you.”
“I know.”
He smiled and took her hand, his devotion to her as strong as ever, and she tried to relax while watching children gather in the clearing.
Playing with the kids turned out to be the easiest part of Layla’s day, as the rest was filled with emotional greetings, endless chitchat, constant stares and heavy pressure to be alert and gracious. Everyone who approached did so with a single flower or an entire bouquet, surrounding Layla’s chair with enough flora to fill a funeral home; and many of the refugees offered her and the triplets homemade gifts like blankets, art and jewelry. They’d insisted they wanted to do more, but thankfully Brietta had told them not to. Accepting gifts from people living out of tents was a hard pill to swallow, but Layla took them with a smile while seeing beyond the pleasantries into the refugees’ sad pasts. Though they were genuinely happy with their new lives, their eyes told stories of pain and regret, and Layla’s heart took a beating with each new introduction.
Every few hours, she and Quin retreated to the tent, in which she numbly sat in silence, trying to recharge her mind while the triplets drained her body, and by the end of the day, she had little more to give.
She blinked at the branches swaying across the indigo sky. Then she yawned and gave Quin a pleading look. “If we don’t leave soon, you’ll have to carry me home.”
He gave her leg a squeeze, already working on their departure. “Tristan has Crusaders scouting our route home. We’ll follow them soon. Let’s find Anghus and say goodbye.”
Gathering everyone and getting organized took almost an hour, and though Layla kept her mouth shut and smiling, she ached for bed and was fed up with Thanksgiving. Three days in a row was too much, even if it may be the last Thanksgiving she celebrated. She was happy the refugees were pleased, and she’d never loved her family more, but packing a lifetime of holidays into one season wasn’t possible, especially with four kids keeping her on a strict and sleepless schedule. She needed a day to check out, a day without expectations and frustrations, no heartache or responsibility, but there wasn’t time for a break, and she’d never admit she needed one. Neglecting her family for a day of rejuvenation would merely leave her stewing in guilt.
When they finally made it home, she rushed through telling her family goodnight, and while she yearned to nurse and pass out, Quin had more than sleep on his mind.
Leaving the babies on the bed, he followed Layla into the closet and helped her out of her dress. “We need to talk to Benzio about tomorrow.”
“What about it?”
“My parents are taking him to the festival.”
“That’s right.”
“He needs to be coached on how to behave around strangers.”
“Go for it,” she insisted, shuffling to the bathroom. “I trust you to cover the important stuff. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Quin’s lecture continued through Benzio’s nightly routine, and as he tucked the toddler into bed, he made him recite the rules.
“Excellent,” Quin praised, tucking Arabella in next to him. “And remember, if you’re not sure what to say or do, just ask your grandma and gr
andpa.”
Benzio gave a nod and cuddled the puppy to his tummy. “Okay.”
Having spent the day playing, his eyelids were already growing heavy, so Quin gave him a goodnight kiss and raised the guardrail.
Kaedan wiggled in one of Quin’s arms, impatient for his meal, but Layla still had her hands full with the other two babies.
“They keep dozing off,” she whispered, “but if I start to pull them away, they latch back on.”
“At least they’re figuring that part out.”
“True.”
“Next time they fall asleep, just pull them off. Your nipples aren’t their pacifiers.”
To prevent Kaedan from crying and keeping Benzio awake, Quin paced the room with his youngest, lightly bouncing his delicate body and whispering in his tiny ear. Once Layla was ready to make the switch, Quin helped her through it. Then he soothed Farrow and Lilyana to sleep and laid them in the crib.
Returning to Layla, he summoned a glass of water and set it within her reach. “I need to talk to my dad about tomorrow.”
She yawned through a reply. “Okay. Hurry back to us.”
“Always. Mind search me if you need me.”
He kissed her forehead. Then he glanced at the sleeping children before flying from the room. He’d considered inviting his dad over to talk, but he didn’t want Layla overhearing him, so he left the house and crossed the lawn.
He didn’t knock or warn his parents of his visit, so he entered to find the foyer and living room dark. He headed for the stairs, hoping they weren’t asleep or preoccupied with each other, but as he took the first step, they emerged from the kitchen.
“Hey, Son,” Kemble greeted, flipping on the lights with a wave of his hand. “Looking for us?”
Quin backtracked and entered the living room. “Yeah. Are you on your way to bed?”
“We were, but it can wait.” Kemble motioned toward a chair while sitting on the sofa with Cordelia. “Is Benzio excited about tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Quin answered, taking a seat across from them. “He’s asleep right now, hopefully dreaming like a boy his age should. I went over the rules for every scenario I could fathom. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a good kid and will probably stick to your side like a satchel.”
“Then he’s not the reason you’re here.”
“Not entirely. I do need to know what time you plan to leave tomorrow morning, but I could have called or mind searched you for that.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in order. Then he looked at his mom. “May I talk to Dad alone?”
Cordelia’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it and smiled. “Sure.”
Quin waited for her to spread around some love and climb the stairs. Then he accepted a glass of scotch from his dad. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Kemble returned, pouring himself a double. “So why did you dismiss your mom?”
“Because I need advice from you. Honest advice. No filtering for her sake. Plus I don’t want to worry her.”
“Should she be worried?”
“No.”
“Good. What kind of advice do you need?”
“Sex.”
Kemble halted mid-drink. “It’s been a long time since we ventured into that subject.”
“Yes, it has.”
“I assume you’re not here for a refresher course on how to treat a woman.”
“No. What you told me years ago is fresh in my mind, but we never covered the situation I’m in now.”
“Kids.”
“That’s a start.”
“How long has it been?”
Quin rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed the back of his neck. “Two weeks. I know that’s not that long in the big scheme of things…”
His voice trailed off as he looked up, finding his dad’s eyes nearly popping from his skull.
“Two weeks?”
“Yeah,” Quin confessed. “Do you consider that a long time?”
Kemble dropped his gaze to his glass, trying to downplay his shock. “For witches and wizards who share a bed, two weeks is a long time. For bonded couples who share a bed, two weeks is… hell, it might as well be an eternity. Your mom and I have never gone two weeks without sex.”
“Not even after she had me?”
Kemble scowled, as if the mere idea upset him. “We slowed down, but we didn’t stop. Your mom was healed within a few hours of having you, and we’d both taken a hiatus from work, so we had plenty of alone time.” He paused and took a drink. Then he took his time swallowing, probably searching for something useful to say. “Two weeks. That’s the night we invaded the Dark Guild.”
“Yeah, but the last time we were able to relax and completely devote ourselves to each other, she was pregnant. When the Dark Guild took her, seventeen days passed without intimacy, and even after we achieved a physical connection, she wasn’t the woman I know. While our babies were missing, part of her was missing. She was miserable – distant and hell-bent on punishing herself. I hate that those are my most recent memories of being with her.”
“Have you two been fighting?”
“No.”
Kemble’s lips thinned as he searched Quin’s aura. “No fights, whatsoever?”
“No. She’s snapped at me a few times, but no fights.”
“So she’s snapping, but what about you?”
“What about me?”
“How are you keeping your temper in check when you’re dealing with a shitload of stress and no outlet for your frustrations?”
“I can’t deny I’m stressed and frustrated, but I know better than to take it out on her.”
“You have to take it out on something, Quinlan.”
“Not her. She’s done nothing wrong, and she’s as sexually frustrated as I am.”
“Then why aren’t you having sex?”
Quin sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he took a drink. “You mean besides the obvious reasons?”
“The kids.”
“Yeah, four of them, all sleeping in our room. Layla’s lucky if she gets a two hour break between nursing the triplets, and Benzio has recurring nightmares.”
“So those are the obvious reasons. What else is in the way?”
“Her guilt. I know she misses the sex as much as I do. She’s told me she wants to make time for it, but that was in the heat of the moment. Layla and I need to reconnect, and I’m not sure how to get us there before March.”
Kemble blinked, taking it all in and getting it straight. “Anything else?”
Quin slowly shook his head while searching for more obstacles. “She’s not getting enough sleep.”
Kemble took a deep breath. Then he exhaled with a low whistle while digging into his bag. “Smoke?” he asked, holding up a joint.
“Sure,” Quin approved. “It’s no substitute for sex, but it’s almost as relaxing.”
Kemble quietly laughed while lighting the herb and passing it over. “It makes your mom frisky.”
Quin solemnly took a hit and let the smoke sit in his lungs. “I can’t remember the last time Layla felt free enough to be that way. Her occasional playfulness is layered over guilt and worries, and she has nothing to fight the stress.”
“She has you. You’re taking excellent care of your family, Quinlan. I’ve seen it. It’s had your mom and me bursting with pride on several occasions. You carry Layla’s burdens every chance you get.”
“It’s not always easy, but it’s always rewarding. I feel like shit when I’m not taking care of her, which brings me back to my reason for being here. I’m neglecting one of her needs. One of our needs. Two weeks may not seem like a long time, but it’s hell starving yourself when you’re staring at your favorite meal all day. And the biggest regret isn’t even the lack of physical gratification. It’s the distance between us. I’m trying to keep her close and make her feel wanted; and despite the pile on her plate, she makes sure she sees me, but we’re looking across kids and
exhaustion and a mountain of worries.”
“I’ve never been in your predicament, Son. I’m honored you think I’m wise enough to help, and I’m always willing, but I doubt I have more answers than you. Four kids is a lot more than one, and even though Agro posed a threat to the coven when you were a baby, we never had to leave home without you, so we didn’t feel guilty for taking a time-out from parenting. Your thorough explanation of the problem means you know Layla well enough that you don’t need advice about women, so what is it you need from me?”
Quin took one more hit. Then he returned the joint to his dad and swirled his liquor. “I guess I thought your experience as a new dad would be more similar to mine. I wanted to know how you handled it.”
“You and your mom made it easy, but I will say this – the first few years of your life was the only time she approved of quickies. Sometimes she preferred them, but we also made time for longer stretches of intimacy. If the emotional connection that comes with making love is fulfilled, the stolen moments of brief physical pleasure won’t feel so empty. Once you and Layla figure out a way to reconnect on a deeper level, you should try to move past your disdain for simple sex and fill the gaps with it.”
“We’ve tried to make time for quickies. They didn’t work out for us.”
“Keep trying. But like I said, they’re easier to swallow if that’s not all you’re getting.”
“Nor are we dealing with a gap,” Quin added, slumping under the weight of the pressure. “This is a canyon. My angel has been through hell this past month, and I still haven’t gotten the chance to take her to heaven. I miss being there with her. It feels like a lifetime has passed since we made the trip.”
“An eternity,” Kemble agreed. “Sex with your bonded mate isn’t like sex with anyone else. It differs so vastly from the experience you knew before it’s unfair to give it the same name. You go from describing it like it’s a vacation to having no idea how to describe it, because nothing compares. Each life is an incredible gift. All our emotions and all the pleasures we detect with our senses – our very essence – is so powerful and vast not even the thickest book in the world could hold the description. Now take all that and double it, and that’s how you describe the sexual connection between bonded mates. We share everything. Physical pleasure and emotional fulfillment are mere pieces in something much more complex. It’s transcendent, and it’s absolutely vital. When you get a gift like that, you don’t leave it lying there. The longer you do, the more disconnected you feel, not only from her, but from yourself. You and Layla may not be traditionally bonded, but the bond you share doesn’t pale in comparison. Quite the contrary. It humbles and inspires the rest of us, and I know it only strengthens behind closed doors. The places you take each other are probably closer to heaven than anyone else on earth gets, so it’s appropriate you call it that, and it’s important you don’t neglect it.”
The Servant Page 5