The Servant

by B. C. Burgess

  Quin stayed silent for several seconds, analyzing the lecture and committing it to memory. “That’s a really good description of what it was like before she was taken by the Dark Guild.”

  “It makes me sad you haven’t had it since.”

  “It’s thirty-six days out of a blessed life. It won’t kill me.”

  “Nor will it make you stronger. And the fact that you’re counting the days is proof you can’t get your mind off it.”

  “So make time for it.”

  “I don’t know how you’ve gone this long without it. One day and I itch. Two days affects my mood. By day three, I’m moving mountains to get there.”

  “I know the feeling, but when you look at the woman you love and see more exhaustion than arousal, and the mere mention of sex makes her feel guilty, pushing for it, regardless how transcendent it is, doesn’t seem like a good idea. Layla’s the only woman who can take me to heaven, but let me tell you, it’s hell when she’s mad.”

  “I bet,” Kemble chuckled. “I guess you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to piss her off to give her what she wants.”

  Quin tilted his glass toward his dad. “And there’s the problem.”

  “So you know what to do, but you’re not sure you should do it.”

  “Right. I don’t want to put more pressure on her or make her think she’s not doing enough, and I don’t want to come off like an asshole who cares more about his libido than his family, so I have to tread carefully. No matter how I do it, she’ll be torn between desire and responsibility, and when she’s torn, she either gets mad or sad.”

  “So let her get mad. If you’re not fighting or having sex, there’s no passion. Every relationship needs passion.”

  “Let her get mad,” Quin repeated, running the scenario through his head for the millionth time.

  “She’s not giving you a choice,” Kemble countered. “She’ll thank you later.”

  Quin smirked, realizing he was far more cautious than his dad when it came to women. “And if she doesn’t thank me, I can blame it all on you.”

  “Sure,” Kemble laughed. “If it helps. Do you have a plan for arranging time away from the kids?”

  Quin leaned forward and set his empty glass on the coffee table, ready to take the risk and work out the details. “I do, but I’ll need help pulling it off.”

  Chapter Four

  Benzio was a ball of fire as Quin got him ready for the festival Saturday morning, and Layla lazily laughed at them while watching from the bed. Quin had surrounded her with pillows – a fluffy cloud of softness propping up her and the babies – so she remained groggy while fighting heavy eyelids.

  Quin dressed Benzio in a pair of khaki slacks and an orange shirt with sapphire stitching, complementing the toddler’s fiery mood and the blue in his eyes. Then he lifted him onto the bed so he could kiss Layla and the triplets goodbye.

  “Have fun,” Layla encouraged. “Stay close to your grandma and grandpa. They need to know where you are at all times.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, distracting Lilyana from her meal by making silly faces at her.

  Quin scooped Benzio off the bed. “Time to go. Your grandma has your breakfast ready.”

  He tossed the toddler over his shoulder and headed for the hallway, but he halted on the threshold when Layla called his name.

  “Aradia’s going to the festival,” she remembered. “I think Bann’s taking her, but they plan to meet Alec there. Will you ask your parents to keep an eye on them? Just in case.”

  “The members of this coven always look out for each other,” Quin assured. “Aradia’s on the lawn, eating breakfast with them. They’ll fly to the festival together.”

  Layla sighed her relief and smiled. “Bye, Benz.”

  Benzio was growing impatient in Quin’s arms, so he absently waved and wiggled. “Bye.”

  Quin called for Arabella to follow him as he left the room. Then Layla heard the front door shut as Kemble’s voice floated through the house. “Who’s ready for a fun day at the festival?”

  “Me!” Benzio declared, and the pitter-patter of little feet filled Layla’s head as he raced down the corridor to meet his grandpa.

  Layla pictured Kemble picking up Benzio and fueling his excitement with promises of delicious food and grand adventures, but she was dozing off, so maybe it was all in her head.

  The next time she stirred, Quin had switched out babies and was coaxing Farrow to latch on.

  “Go back to sleep,” he whispered.

  “If you insist,” she mumbled, closing her eyes. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  Quin smiled, but he kept his mouth shut, fighting his own exhaustion to ease hers. Once Farrow was eating, Quin quietly dressed Lilyana and Kaedan. Then he found his spare satchel and packed it with everything the babies would need for the day. He felt mildly guilty when he summoned the bottles from storage, but he’d made a promise, and he was going to keep it with or without Layla’s approval.

  He looked at her, finding that Farrow had lost interest in his meal, and Quin could have sworn the little shit was smirking at him, as if the infant was well aware Dad was trying to pull one over on Mom.

  Leaving Kaedan and Lilyana to their tummy time on the mattress in front of him, Quin gently pulled Farrow from the pillows piled on Layla’s lap. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  Farrow hiccupped while reaching out, and Quin suddenly ached to keep them home, to treasure every second of their day, to witness each development and discovery, every smirk and smile. The cute curving and twitching of their lips weren’t social responses yet, but they’d soon flash genuine grins, and Quin didn’t want to miss it. He didn’t want Layla to miss it.

  Following a sigh and kiss to Farrow’s palm, Quin pulled him close for a burp. “Save the best stuff for us, Son. If you do something too amazing today, your mom will never let me live it down.”

  Farrow joined his siblings for tummy time, and Quin quietly played with them while letting Layla fall into a deep sleep. She’d pushed away all but one pillow, which she used to cushion her chest while stretching out on her stomach. Quin couldn’t see her face, but soon after she rolled over, her aura mellowed.

  Time for the hard part – getting the triplets out of the house without waking up their angel.

  All three babies were in good spirits, so Quin laid them in their crib while giving them multiple kisses and telling them half the love was from their mom. After casting a silencing spell around Layla, he carefully hovered the crib to the hallway, where Morrigan and Daleen waited, their smiles so bright they outshined their auras.

  The crib was across the threshold, and a glance at Layla proved she hadn’t stirred, but Quin didn’t want to push his luck, so he halted in the doorway. “You’re excited,” he approved, smiling at Morrigan and Daleen.

  “To say the least,” Morrigan confessed. “Babysitting our great-grandchildren is a dream we once feared would never come true.”

  “I don’t know how long you’ll get them. Layla might wake up and demand I bring them back. Are you sure you’re prepared for her wrath when she finds out you conspired with me?”

  “We are, but you’re a very persuasive wizard, Quinlan. I have a feeling we’ll all get what we want in the end.”

  “I hope so. Let us know if they have issues taking a bottle. Starving them isn’t something Layla would forgive, no matter how persuasive I am.”

  “Smart man,” Daleen laughed, taking the bag he’d packed. “Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  Quin stayed by the door until he was sure he and Layla were alone. Then he dropped his silencing spell and approached the bed. The left half of her face was buried in a pillow, the right half was obscured by spirals, and she had her arms stretched over her head, her slender shoulder blades pointing the way to the small of her back. Her toned legs were parted and partially lost in the blankets, but her shapely ass was uncovered, adorned in white cotton panties with clusters of bright-red
cherries, which served their purpose in reminding him how mouthwatering she was.

  He yearned to crawl into bed and wake her with kisses, bury himself in her body the way he used to, but he wanted her rested. Maybe if she wasn’t exhausted, she wouldn’t kill him for going behind her back and using the milk she’d drained herself to obtain.

  He floated over the mattress. Then he slowly descended to the spot beside her, denying the urge to touch. Her aura washed over him, warming his flesh and soothing some of his stress, so he breathed her in while closing his eyes.

  Layla drifted awake with her babies on her mind, but she had no doubt they were nearby and safe, so she stayed put, her heart swelling with warm elation as Quin’s body heat swam across her back. A chill skittered down her spine as he softly kissed the nape of her neck. Then his lips followed the tingles, drifting over goose bumps as his fingertips raised more along her sides.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, working his way back up her spine.

  She recalled falling asleep as she nursed Farrow, but now she was on her stomach and felt like she’d been there a while. “Yeah… I think. My boobs hurt.”

  His lips halted between her shoulder blades. Then he positioned himself so he could free a hand without putting any weight on her. Moving aside her hair, he found her ear and gave it a kiss. “I’ll make them feel better.”

  “Tempting,” she confessed. “But I have three babies to feed.”

  She turned her head, and he kissed her cheek before whispering in her ear. “What if I said you don’t?”

  She scowled, confused and oddly frightened by his response. Crazy notions charged her groggy brain. Why wouldn’t she have babies to feed? Not a single good reason came to mind. They were all sad or scary or insane. Maybe he was joking. Or maybe she’d misinterpreted him.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “How long has it been since they ate?”

  She tried to push herself up, but he didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything for several seconds. His silence terrified her, and her heart rate spiked, taking his with it.

  “Calm down, love.”

  “I will when you let me up and tell me what’s going on.”

  That killed his arousal, and hers had been slashed to pieces the moment he brought her kids’ presence into question.

  He moved away, and she rolled over to look at the crib. It wasn’t there. Her lungs emptied, her heart plummeting to her stomach as her eyes filled with hot tears and her head whirled with possible explanations. She tried to scramble out of bed, but her foot got tangled in a sheet, and she fell headfirst.

  Quin grabbed her thigh as she caught the floor with her palms. “Shit, Layla.”

  She looked from the carpet to his face, her hot blood rushing to her head. “Where are my kids?”

  “Come here.” He grasped her bicep and lifted her onto the bed. Then he untangled her foot between cautious glances at her face. “Our kids are perfectly fine. Please calm down.”

  No way. She was too fired up. She was pissed and confused, and she’d just fallen out of bed. “Where are my kids?”

  “Our kids, Layla.”

  “Whatever. Why won’t you answer me?”

  He had her free from the sheet and sitting up straight, so he let her go, sighing as he rubbed his face. “Benzio’s with my parents at the fall festival. The triplets are at Caitrin and Morrigan’s.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that? And why isn’t their crib here?”

  “Your grandparents took it with them.”

  “Oh.” Her heart rate decelerated, but hearing her children were safe did nothing for her aching breasts. “How long has it been since they ate?”

  “Probably about an hour.”

  She frowned and found his profile, ready to breathe fire from her flared nostrils. “What do you mean probably?”

  He sighed again, in no hurry to answer.

  “What did you do, Quin?”

  He filled his lungs and made eye contact. “I gave your grandparents a couple of bottles. They probably finished feeding the triplets about an hour ago.”

  “What?” Layla was on her feet, unable to sit still. “The bottles we were saving for March?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned toward him and threw her hands in the air. “Why? I’m practically bursting with milk here. Those bottles are the only part of me I can give them when I’m gone. Why would you use them while I’m here?”

  His jaw flexed as he rose to his feet and summoned an empty bottle. “You can replace what they ate. Right now.”

  “That’s not the point,” she snapped. “How could you do this without talking to me first?”

  “Because you leave me no other option. I did this for us.”

  “For us? You didn’t ask if I wanted to skip a feeding. Sometimes it can be stressful, but I love doing it. I didn’t want this.”

  “This isn’t about skipping a feeding. This is about you and me. And you did want it. You made me promise to do this.”

  “Not like this. I didn’t sign off on this.”

  “That’s the point. You’d never sign off on this, no matter how much you want it. That’s why I get to carry all the guilt and do it for you.”

  He closed his eyes, regretting his choice of words, but it was too late. He’d just shoved his guilt down her throat.

  “Don’t bother.” She turned her back on him, her cheeks hot as burning tears flooded her lids. “The guilt will always be there.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Just stop, Quin. You need to go.”

  “What?”

  “I want my babies. Go get them.”

  “Layla—”

  “I mean it. Go now or I’ll go myself.”

  His gaze seared into her back as she fought to suppress a crying binge, the urge to drop to her knees, hold her full breasts and bawl. Not because she’d missed a feeding. That was merely the nudge that pushed her over the edge. She’d been teetering on a precarious ledge for weeks – exhausted, stressed, worried and traumatized. Only four weeks had passed since she’d lost her children and plunged into insanity, into darkness, and she’d been fighting to hold on to the light ever since she recovered from her stupor. Feeding her babies brightened that light, tightened her grip on reality and helped her find the beauty in life. To have that pleasure taken away without warning submerged her in everything scary about her life, forcing her to face the months ahead, the inevitable sacrifices and heartache.

  Quin hadn’t responded, but she could feel him staring, and her legs shook as her lungs hiccupped. She wanted him to speak or move. Something, anything. She needed him to make it better. She longed to be strong for him and their family. She’d tried so hard to handle the pressure and keep a smile on her face, hoping he could enjoy his time at home without worrying about her. But the weight was too heavy, the fear too paralyzing.

  She sensed he was about to say something, so she held her breath, desperate to hear his voice, but all she heard were footsteps as he walked away.

  Her heart jumped into her throat as she spun around, finding the room empty and the door halfway shut. Her stomach swished and clinched, and she clutched it with a clammy palm as her other hand stretched toward the threshold.

  Oh god. What had she done?

  Her legs felt like liquid as she rushed around the bed and across the room, clumsy in her frantic pursuit. Her insides were a mess, her train of thought had derailed, and if she didn’t catch Quin, her heart would jump from her chest. She was sure of it. Tears blurred her vision as she flung open the door, too scared to find her voice and call after him. Then she darted into the hall and came to a breathless halt.

  He stood across from the bedroom door, watching it. Watching her. He’d put on a pair of shorts and had his hands in his pockets, but he stood firm, like he had no intention of leaving.

  She stumbled into him, afraid he’d keep his hands tucked away, and after the fit she threw, she wouldn’t blame him, but he was quick to pull
them free and wrap her in a hug.

  The floodgates opened, but at least her heart remained in her chest. “I’m sorry, Quin. I… I don’t know what came over me; yelling at you like that; telling you to go.”

  His chest rose with a big breath, his pulse drumming on her forehead as he gave her a consoling squeeze, but for such a vocal wizard, he remained terribly quiet.

  She closed her eyes, wishing she’d handled the situation better, wishing she could go back in time with the experience of him walking away fresh in her mind.

  His right hand took her face, wiping away tears, and she forced her gaze past his flexed neck to his solemn stare. He tangled his other hand in her curls, preventing her from returning to his chest or moving away, and his expression never wavered as he dried her cheeks.

  “I won’t apologize for doing this,” he whispered.

  She shook her head as much as she could with him holding her hair. “I don’t expect you to apologize. I know why you did it. At least… I think I know. But it doesn’t matter. You’re the most selfless man I know, Quin. Your intentions are always good.”

  His thumb drifted over her lips as he slowly walked her backward. “This wasn’t selfless.”