by J. R. Ward
She thought relentlessly about Xcor and his second lieutenant. She had been used by them both—but especially the latter. Xcor hadn’t wanted to partake of her vein. He had fought it—and when she had overridden him, there had been deep regret in his eyes because he had known exactly what position he was putting her in. The other soldier had had no such compulsion.
Indeed, she blamed him—whatever fell upon her head, it was his doing. Mayhap she would be reincarnated as a ghost and could haunt him for the rest of his nights… of course, that was assuming she would be put to death. And if she was not, what was she going to do? Surely they would strip her of her duties herein as well as her Chosen status. Where would she go? She had nothing of her own, nothing that had not been provided at the behest of the king or the Primale.
Continuing on her loop, she confronted yet again the emptiness of her breathing days, and wondered what purpose she would serve in the future—
The door opened at the far end, and she stopped.
All four of them had come to find her: The king, the Primale, Qhuinn and John Matthew.
Straightening her spine, she crossed the gym down its middle, holding their eyes. When she got close enough, she curtsied down to the floor and did not wait to be addressed. Court manners were the least of her problems.
“My lord. I am prepared to accept all responsibility—”
“Rise, Chosen.” A hand appeared in front of her face. “Rise and be at ease.”
As she gasped and looked up, the king’s smile was gentle, and he didn’t wait for her to respond. Bending to her, he gathered her palm in his and helped her up from her supplication. And when she glanced at the Primale, his eyes seemed impossibly kind.
She just shook her head and addressed Wrath. “My lord, I fed your enemy—”
“Did you know who he was at the time?”
“No, but—”
“Did you believe that you were helping a fallen soldier?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Have you sought him out again?”
“Absolutely not, but—”
“Did you in fact tell John and Qhuinn where he was when you were leaving town last night.”
“Yes, but—”
“Enough with the buts then.” The king smiled again and put his hand to her face, brushing her cheek lightly in spite of his blindness. “You’ve got a big heart, and they knew it. They took advantage of your trust, and used you.”
Phury nodded. “I should have told you who you were feeding in the first place, but the war’s a messy, nasty business, and I didn’t want you to get sucked into it. It never dawned on me that Throe would seek you out—but I shouldn’t be surprised. The Band of Bastards is ruthless to the core.”
In a rush, she put her free hand up to her mouth, holding in a sob. “I’m so sorry—I swear to the both of you—I had no idea—”
Phury stepped in and drew her against him. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.… I don’t want you to think about this again.”
As she turned her head to the side to rest it upon his heavy pectoral, she knew that wasn’t possible. Unwittingly or not, she had betrayed the only family she had, and that wasn’t the kind of thing someone could just shrug off—even if her stupidity was forgiven. And these past tense hours, when her fate had been unknown and her loneliness revealed to its fullest extent, were not going to be brushed away, either.
“The only thing I ask,” Wrath said, “is that if he contacts you again—if any of them do—you tell us immediately.”
She pulled free and had the temerity to reach for the king’s dagger hand. As if Wrath knew what she wanted, he gave his palm over to her readily, the great black diamond flashing on his finger.
Bowing her head and placing her lips upon the symbol of the monarchy, she spoke in the Old Language. “With all that I have, and all that I am, I so swear.”
As she made the pact with her king, in front of the Primale and two witnesses, an image of Xcor played across her mind’s eye. She remembered every detail about his face and his warrior’s body—
From out of nowhere, a shot of heat speared through her.
It mattered not, however. Her body might be a traitor; her heart and soul were not.
Straightening, she stared at the king. “Let me help you find him,” she heard herself say. “My blood is in his veins. I can—”
Qhuinn cut her off. “Absolutely not. No fucking way—”
She ignored him. “Let me prove to you my fealty.”
Wrath shook his head. “You don’t have to. You’re a female of worth, and we’re not endangering your life.”
“I agree,” the Primale said. “We’ll deal with those fighters. They’re nothing for you to worry about—and now I want you to take care of yourself. You look exhausted, and you must be starved—go get yourself some food and have a sleep at the mansion.”
Wrath nodded. “I’m sorry we took so long to come to you. Beth and I were down in Manhattan having some R and R, and we just arrived back at nightfall.”
Layla nodded and agreed with everything else that was said, but only because she was suddenly too exhausted to stay on her feet much longer. Fortunately, the king and the Primale left soon thereafter, and then Qhuinn and John took over, leading her back to the mansion, taking her to the kitchen, and sitting her down at the counter as they popped open refrigerator and pantry doors.
It was sweet of them to want to wait on her, especially given that they didn’t know their way around even boiling an egg. The thought of food turned her stomach, however, making her gag.
“No, please,” she said, waving away leftovers from First Meal. “Oh… dearest Virgin Scribe… no.”
As they fixed themselves plates of turkey and mashed potatoes and some kind of broccoli mix, she tried not to see or smell any of it.
“What’s the matter?” Qhuinn said as he slid onto the stool next to her.
“I don’t know.” She should have been relieved that Wrath and Phury were so forgiving of her transgression. Instead, she was more anxious than ever. “I don’t feel right… I want to help. I want to make amends. I—”
John began signing something from over by the microwave—but whatever it was, Qhuinn shook his head and refused to translate.
“What is he saying?” she demanded. When she got no response, she put her hand on the male’s arm. “What’s he saying, Qhuinn?”
“Nothing. John ain’t sayin’ no goddamn thing.”
The other male didn’t appreciate the shutout, but he didn’t argue either as he prepared a second plate of food, no doubt for Xhex.
After John excused himself to go feed his shellan, the silence in the kitchen was broken only by the sound of Qhuinn’s silverware against his plate.
It was not long before she was ready to jump out of her skin, and to keep from screaming, she began to pace around.
“You really should rest,” Qhuinn murmured.
“I can’t seem to settle.”
“Try to eat something.”
“Dearest Virgin Scribe, no. My stomach’s a mess—and it’s so hot in here.”
Qhuinn frowned. “No, it isn’t.”
Layla just kept walking, faster and faster—and she supposed it was because she was trying to get away from the images in her head: Xcor looking up at her. Xcor taking her vein. Xcor’s big body… his massive, warrior body laid out before her and clearly aroused from the taste of her blood—
“What the hell are you thinking about?” Qhuinn asked darkly.
She stopped short. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Qhuinn shifted on his stool, and then abruptly shoved his half-eaten food away.
“I should leave you,” she announced.
“Nah, it’s cool. Guess I’m tetchy, too.”
As he got up from the counter with his dishes, her eyes traveled down his torso and widened. He was… aroused.
Just as she was.
Remnants of Autumn’s needing, clearly—
T
he heat wave came over her in such a rush, she barely had time to grab onto the granite counter to keep herself standing, and she coudn’t respond as she heard Qhuinn shout her name from a distance.
Need gripped her body, fisting her womb, making her buckle under its force.
“Oh… dearest Virgin Scribe…” Between her legs, her sex opened, the blossoming having nothing to do with Xcor or Qhuinn or any outside force.
The arousal came from inside of herself.
Her needing…
It hadn’t been enough. The visits to the Sanctuary hadn’t been enough to keep her from being caught by Autumn’s—
The next surge of yearning threatened to take her to her knees, but Qhuinn was there to catch her before she hit the hard tile. As he dragged her into his arms, she knew she didn’t have much time to be rational. And knew the resolution that abruptly came upon her was at once utterly unfair and totally undeniable.
“Service me,” she said, cutting off whatever it was he was saying to her. “I know you don’t love me, and I know we won’t be together afterward, but service me so that I can have something that’s mine. So you can have something that’s yours.”
As the blood drained out of his face and his mismatched eyes bulged, she forged on, talking in fast gasps. “We both have no true family. We’re both alone. Service me… service me and change all that. Service me so that we may each have a future that is at least partially our own.… Service me, Qhuinn.… I beg of you… service me.…”
SIXTY-TWO
Qhuinn was pretty certain he was in a parallel universe. Because there was no way that Layla was going into her needing… and turning to him to see her through it.
Nah.
This was just a mirror image of the way the real world was—a world where the biologically pure stuck to themselves so that they created generations of biologically pure and therefore superior young.
“Service me and give us something that is ours—” The hormones in her cranked up to a newer, higher level, cutting off her voice. It soon came back, however, with the same words. “Service me.…”
As he started to pant, it was unclear whether that was the sex in his blood, or the vertigo created by this unexpected cliff he was hanging off of.
The answer was no, of course. No, absolutely not, no children ever, certainly not with someone he wasn’t in love with, certainly not with a virgin Chosen.
No.
No…
Fuck, no, shit, no, God, no, damn it to hell, no…
“Qhuinn…” she groaned. “You’re my only hope, and I yours.…”
Well, actually, that wasn’t true—at least the first part. Any other male in the house—or on the planet—could take care of this. And of course, right afterward, they would be answerable to the Primale.
Not a conversation he was going to volunteer for.
Except… well, she was right about the second part. In her delirium, in her desperation, she was voicing the same thing he’d been thinking for months now. Like her, he had nothing that was really his, no prospects of true love, no abiding reason to rise each sunset other than the war. What kind of life was that?
Fine, he told himself. Go get a goddamned dog. The answer to all that was not to lie with this Chosen.
“Qhuinn… please…”
“Listen, let me get you to Doc Jane. She’ll take care of you the right way—”
Layla shook her head wildly. “No. I need you.”
From out of nowhere, he thought, Young were a future that was your own. If you parented them well, they never truly left you—and they could not be taken away from you if you kept them safe.
Hell, if Layla conceived, even the Primale couldn’t do shit, because Qhuinn would be… the father. Which in vampire terms was the ultimate trump short of the king—and Wrath wouldn’t touch something private like this.
On the other hand, if she didn’t fall pregnant, they would likely beat the ever-loving balls off him for soiling a sacred female—
Wait a minute. Was he actually considering this?
“Qhuinn…”
He could love a young, he thought. Love it with everything he was and ever would be. Love it as he had loved no other, even Blay.
Closing his eyes briefly, he went back in time to the night he had died and gone up to the door of the Fade. He thought about that image he had seen, that little female.…
Oh, Jesus…
“Layla,” he said roughly, as he put her back on her feet. “Layla, look at me. Look at me.”
As he shook her, she seemed to gather herself, focusing on his face as she gripped his upper arms with her nails. “Yes…”
“Are you sure. Are you positive—you need to be sure—”
For the briefest of moments, a completely lucid, rather ancient expression cut through her tortured, beautiful features. “Yes, I am sure. Let us do what we must. For the future.”
He searched her face carefully, just to be sure. Phury was going to be pissed, but then, even Chosen had the right to choose—and she was picking him, right here, right now: As all he saw was an abiding resolution, he nodded once, picked her back up into his arms, and strode out of the kitchen.
His only thought, as he hit the bottom of the grand staircase, was that they were going to conceive in the next few hours, and both the young and Layla were going to live through everything: the pregnancy, the birthing, and those critical few hours thereafter.
He and Layla were going to bring into the world a daughter.
A fair-haired daughter with eyes that were shaped like his, and at first colored like the Chosen’s… before they changed to be as the blue and green of his own.
He was going to have a family of his own.
A future of his own.
Finally.
As Xhex stepped out of the shower, she knew John had returned, because she caught his scent as well as the smell of something frickin’ delicious. Reapplying the cilices she’d removed to get cleaned up, she wrapped a towel around herself and padded out into the bedroom.
“Oh, man, turkey,” she said as he set up a lap tray for her.
Glancing over, his eyes lingered on her body like he wanted to eat her instead, but then he just smiled and went back to his ministrations with what he’d brought them both.
“This is perfect timing,” she murmured as she got on the bed. “I’m starved.”
After everything was set up properly, from the napkin to the silverware to the glass and covered plate, he brought the tray over to her, placing it across her thighs. Then he retreated to the other side of the room to have his own food at the chaise lounge.
Would he rather be feeding her by hand? she wondered as they ate in silence. Vampire males liked to do that… but she’d never had the patience for it. Food was energy for the body, not something to get all Valentine’s Day about.
Guess they were both capable of closing each other out, weren’t they. And something was up: His grid was conflicted, to the point where his emotions were nearly frozen.
“I’ll leave,” she said sadly. “After I check in on my mother, I’ll go—”
You don’t have to, he signed. I don’t want you to.
“You sure about that.” When he nodded, she had to wonder, given what his grid was up to.
But come on, a couple of hours in the sack were not going to close the kind of distance they had been rocking lately—
Abruptly, he took a deep breath and stopped playing with what was on his plate. Listen, I need to tell you something.
She put down her fork and wondered how bad this was going to hurt. “Okay.”
Layla fed Xcor.
“What the f— I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” As he nodded, she thought, Right, she’d known there was drama going down in the theater district, but she never would have guessed it was that serious.
She didn’t know who it was. Throe tricked her—he reached out and found her and brought her to Xcor.
“Jesus…” Like the king ne
eded another reason to kill that motherfucker?
Here’s the thing. She wants to help find him—and with her blood in his veins… she can. She knew where he was last night—sensed him clear as day. She could really help you.
Xhex forgot all about the food, adrenaline rocketing through her body. “Oh, man, if I can just get her in range… How long ago did she feed him?”
The fall.
“Shit. Time’s wasting.” She burst up and went for her leather pants, picking them up off the floor. Damn it, they were split in half—
There are some others still in the closet.
“Oh, thanks.” She went over and tried not to get depressed as she saw their clothes lined up together. God… “Ah, do you know where she is?”
Down in the kitchen with Qhuinn.
As John’s grid shifted, Xhex stopped in the process of pulling a fresh set out. Narrowing her eyes over her shoulder, she said, “What aren’t you telling me.”
Wrath and Phury don’t want to involve her. She offered to help and they shut her down. If you use her, they can’t ever know you did—I can’t state that more plainly.
Xhex blinked, her breath freezing in her lungs.
No one can know, Xhex. Not even Qhuinn. And it goes without saying that you’ve got to keep her safe.
As John met her stare grimly, she didn’t care about any of that shit. Didn’t even hear it.
With this piece of intel, he had just chosen her and her quest over both his king and the Primale of his race. Even more, he had potentially handed her the key to infiltrating the Band of Bastards—and sent her into the belly of the beast.
Talk about putting his money where his mouth was.
Xhex forgot about the leathers and walked over to him, taking his face in her hands. “Why are you telling me this?”
It’s going to get you there, he mouthed.
She brushed back his hair from his handsome, tense face. “You keep this up…”
And what?
“… and I’m going to owe you.”
Can I pick how you repay me?
“Yeah. You can.”
Then I want you to move back in with me. Or let me come live with you. I want us to be together properly again.