by J. R. Ward
Next to whom was a slim figure in a white gown… a female.
Unless he was seeing things?
No, he was not. As Zypher carried him closer, she became more distinct. She was… incalculably beautiful, with pale skin and blond hair that was twisted up upon the crown of her head.
She was vampire, not human.
She was… unearthly, an illumination spilling out from her form, one so bright it o’ershadowed the moon.
Ah, so this was a dream.
He should have guessed. After all, there was no reason for Zypher to take him into the farmland parts, risking their lives for some fresh air. No cause for any female to be waiting upon his arrival. No possibility that someone as fair as she would be out alone in the world.
No, this was just a product of his delirium, and therefore he relaxed into the iron arms of his soldier, recognizing that whatever his subconscious had coughed up was not going to matter at all, and he might as well let things play out. Eventually he would wake up, and mayhap this was a sign he had finally settled into a deep, healing sleep.
Besides, the less he fought, the more he could concentrate on her.
Oh… loveliness. Oh, virtuous beauty, the kind that turned kings into serfs and soldiers into poets. This was the sort of female worth fighting for, dying for, just to gaze for a moment upon her face.
Such a shame she was but a vision…
The first sign that something was off was that she seemed taken aback at the sight of him.
Then again, his mind was probably just going for realism. He was hideous uninjured. Beaten and starving? He was lucky she did not shrink away in horror. As it was, her hands lifted to her cheeks and her head shook back and forth until Throe stepped in as if to protect her delicate sensibilities.
Didn’t that make him wish for a weapon. This was his dream. If she was going to be sheltered, he would take care of that. Well… assuming he could stand up. And she did not run away—
“He is failing,” he heard her say.
His eyes fluttered back at the pure, dulcet sound. That voice was as perfect as the rest of her, and he concentrated hard, trying to get his brain to make her speak some more in his dream.
“Aye,” Throe said. “This is an emergency.”
“What is his name?”
Xcor spoke up at this point, thinking he should be the one to make his own introduction. Unfortunately, all that came out was a croak.
“Lay him down,” the female said. “We need to do this with speed.”
Soft, cool grass rose up to meet his broken body, cushioning him sure as if the palm of the earth was mittened in wool. And when he reopened the steel doors of his eyes, he got to watch her kneel beside him.
“You are so beautiful…” was what he said. What came out of his mouth was nothing more than a gargle.
And abruptly, he had difficulty breathing, as if something had burst in his interior, perhaps as a result of all the moving?
Except this was a dream, so why would that matter?
As the female brought up her wrist, he reached out a shaking hand and stopped her before she could score her vein.
Her eyes met his own.
In the periphery, Throe once again closed the distance, as if he were worried that Xcor would do something violent.
Not to her, he thought. Never to this gentle creature of his imagination.
Clearing his throat, he spoke as clearly as he could. “Save your blood,” he told her. “Beautiful one, you save what makes you vital.”
He was too far gone for the likes of her. And that was true not merely because he was badly wounded and probably going to die.
Even in his imagination, she was far too good for even proximity to him.
As Layla fell to her knees, she found it difficult to speak. The male stretched out before her was… well, injured severally, yes, of course. But he was more than that. In spite of the fact that he was on the ground and clearly defenseless, he was…
Powerful was the only word that came to mind.
Tremendously powerful.
She could tell nearly naught of his features for the swelling and the bruising, and the same was true of his coloring, because of all the dried blood. But in physical form, although he appeared to be not as tall as the Brothers, he was every bit as wide, and thick of shoulder, with arms that were brutally muscled.
Mayhap the contours of his body were the seat of her impression of him?
No, the fighter who had called her forth to this meadow was of equal size, as was the male who delivered the wounded here to her feet.
This fallen soldier was simply different from the other two—and in fact, they did defer to him in subtle ways with their movements and their eyes.
Indeed, this was not a male to toy with, but rather, like a bull, capable of crushing anything in its path.
Yet the hand that touched her was light as a breeze and even less confining—she had the distinct impression that not only was he not holding her here, but that he wanted her to go.
She was not about to leave him, however.
In the strangest way, she was… ensnared… held captive by a deep blue stare that even in the night, and despite the fact that he was fully mortal, appeared to be lit with fire. And under that regard, her heart quickened and her eyes clung to him as if he were at once indecipherable and capable of her understanding—
Sounds came out of him, guttural and incomprehensible because of his wounds, urging her to to proceed with haste.
He needed to be cleaned. Cared for. Nursed back to health over a matter of days, perhaps weeks. Yet here he was in this field, with these males who obviously knew more about weapons than healing.
She looked at the soldier she knew. “You must take him in to be treated after this.”
Although she got a nod and an affirmation as a reply, her instincts told her it was a lie.
Males, she thought derisively, were too tough for their own good.
She refocused on the soldier. “You need me,” she told him.
The sound of her voice appeared to put him further into some kind of thrall, and she took advantage of it. Weakened though he was, she had the distinct sense that he had more than enough power in his body to prevent her from bringing her vein to his mouth.
“Shhh,” she said, reaching out and brushing his short hair back. “Be of ease, warrior. As you protect and serve the likes of me, allow me to return your service.”
So proud he was—she could tell by the hard thrust of his chin. And yet he appeared to listen to her, his hand dropping from her forearm, his mouth parting, as if he were hers to command.
Layla moved fast, prepared to take advantage of the relative surrender—for no doubt he would soon retreat from the submission. Biting into her wrist, she quickly brought her arm over his lips, the drops falling one by one.
As he accepted her gift, the sound he made was… nothing short of breathtaking: A groan laced with infinite gratitude and, in her opinion, baseless awe.
Oh, how those eyes of his held on to hers, until the field, the tree, the other two males faded away, and all she knew was the male she was feeding.
Compelled by something she was disinclined to argue with, she lowered her arm… until his mouth brushed her wrist: This was something she never did with the other males, even Qhuinn at this point. But she wanted to know what it felt like, this soldier’s mouth upon her skin—
The instant contact was made, that sound he’d uttered returned, and then he formed a seal around the twin points. He did not hurt her; even as big as he was, as starved as he was, he did not ravage her. Not at all. He drew with care, keeping always his stare upon her own as if he were safeguarding her, in spite of the fact that he was the one who needed protection in his current condition.
Time passed, and she knew he was taking a great deal from her, but she did not care. She would have stayed forever in this meadow, beneath this tree… linked to this brave warrior who had nearly given his life in the war
against the Lessening Society.
She could remember feeling something like this with Qhuinn, this incredible sensation of destination, even though she had not been aware she was traveling. But this pull put what she had once experienced with that other male to shame.
This was epic.
And yet… why should she trust such emotion? Mayhap this was just a heartier version of what she had felt for Qhuinn. Or mayhap this was simply how the Scribe Virgin ensured the survivability of the race, biology o’errunning logic.
Pushing such blasphemous thoughts aside, she focused on her job, her mission, her blessed contribution that was her only opportunity to serve now that the Chosen’s role had been so diminished.
Providing blood to males of worth was all that was left of her calling. All that she had in her life.
Instead of thinking of herself, of the way she felt, she needed to thank the Scribe Virgin that she had come here in time to do her sacred duty… and then she had to return to the compound to find other opportunities to be of service.
FIFTY
“What’s changed, John.”
In the bedroom he and Xhex had once shared, John went over to the windows and felt the cold wafting through the clear glass. Down below, the gardens were bathed in security lighting, the false moon glow making the grout around the terrace’s slate slabs seem phosphorescent.
As he surveyed the landscape, there wasn’t much to look at. Everything had been prepped for winter, the beds of flowers quilted in mesh covers, the fruit trees bagged, the pool now drained. Stray leaves from the maples and oaks at the forest’s edge skipped across the mowed, browning grass, like they were homeless and in search of shelter.
“John. What the hell is going on?”
In the end, Xhex had not committed, and he didn’t blame her. One-eighties were disorienting, and real life sure as shit didn’t come with seat belts or air bags.
How did he explain himself? he wondered as he scrambled for words.
Eventually, he pivoted around, brought up his hands, and signed, You were right.
“About what?”
That would be everything, he thought as he started to sign.
Last night, I watched Qhuinn go out into the suck zone—alone. Wrath was down; we were scrambling; the Brotherhood hadn’t come yet as backup—bullets were everywhere. The Band of Bastards had surrounded us, and we were running out of time because of the king’s injury. Qhuinn… see, he knew he was better off outside the house—he knew that if he could secure the garage, we might be able to get Wrath out. And… yeah, it nearly killed me, but I let him go out there. He’s my best friend… and I let him go.
Xhex went over and slowly lowered herself into a chair. “That’s why Wrath’s neck was all wrapped up… and Qhuinn was…”
He went up against Xcor, one-on-one, and gave Wrath the best shot at surviving. John shook his head at her. And again, I let him go out there because… I knew he had to do what he could. It was the right thing for the situation.
John paced around, then parked it at the foot of the bed, bracing his palms on his thighs, rubbing them up and down. Qhuinn is a good fighter—he’s strong and decisive. A heavy hitter. And because he did what he did, Wrath lived—so yeah, Qhuinn was right, even though it was dangerous.
He looked over at her. You’re the same here. We need that rifle to declare war on the Bastards—Wrath has to have the proof. You’re a hunter who can go out in daylight—none of us can do that. You also have your symphath abilities if shit gets critical. You’re the right person for the job—even though the thought of you going anywhere near them terrifies me, you are the right one to send out to wherever they are.
There was a long pause. “I don’t… know what to say.”
He shrugged. That’s why I didn’t explain anything to you beforehand. I’m done with the talking, too. At some point, it’s just hot air. Action matters. Proof matters.
As she rubbed her face as if her head hurt, he frowned. I thought… this would make you happy.
“Yeah. Sure. It’s great.” She got to her feet. “I’ll do it. Of course I will. I’m going to have to keep on top of things for Trez, but I’ll start tonight.”
John felt the pain receptors in his chest light up like a power grid—which told him how much he’d expected out of this olive branch.
He’d hoped it would bring them together.
A Ctrl-Alt-Delete that reset their system.
He whistled to get her eyes back on him. What’s wrong? I thought this would change things.
“Oh, it’s clear they already have. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to go out—” As her voice caught, she cleared her throat with a cough. “Yeah, go talk to Wrath. Tell him yes, I’m in.”
As she went for the door, she appeared to be totally discombobulated, her movements stilted and stiff.
Xhex? he signed—which did no good, because she’d turned away.
He whistled again, then popped up off the mattress and followed her into the hall. Reaching out, he tapped her on the shoulder, because he didn’t want to offend her by grabbing at her.
“John, just let me go—”
He stepped in front of her and lost his breath. Her eyes were glowing with unshed red tears.
What’s the matter? he signed desperately.
She blinked fast, refusing to let anything fall to her cheeks. “You think I’m going to be jumping for joy because you aren’t bonded to me anymore?”
He recoiled so badly, he nearly fell over. Excuse me?
“I didn’t know it could end, but in your case, clearly it has—”
Fuck that! He stamped his feet because he had to make some noise. I’m completely fucking bonded with you! And this is both totally about us—because I want to be with you again—and totally not, because whether or not I am, this is still the right thing to do! You are the right person for the job!
She seemed momentarily stunned, nothing but those quick lids of hers moving. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him. “Are you serious?”
Yes! He forced himself not to jump up and down again. God, yes… fuck, yes… everything I’ve got—yes.
She glanced away. Looked back. After a moment, she said roughly, “I have… hated not being with you.”
Me, too. And I’m sorry. As he took a deep breath, his heart eased enough so that it didn’t feel like it was going break through his sternum. I don’t think I can ever fight side by side with you. That’s like expecting a surgeon to operate on his wife. But I’m not going to stand in your way—and no one else is either. You were right in the first place—you’ve been fighting for longer than you’ve been with me, and you should be able to do what you want. I can’t actually be there, though—I mean, look, if it happens, it happens, but I’d like to avoid that if we can.
As her lids dropped a little, he had the sense that she was scanning him in the ways of her other side, and he squared his shoulders under the scrutiny: He knew what was in his mind, his heart, and his soul.
He had nothing but love for her.
He wanted her back.
He had nothing to hide.
And those terms he’d just spilled out were ones that not only he had thought long and hard about, but knew he could live with. This was not the off-the-cuff of a newly mated guy thinking life was going to be a breeze just because he had the girl of his dreams in his arms and a future so bright he had to wear shades.
Now, as he spoke, it was as a male who had lived for months without his mate; who had suffered through the strange death valley that came with knowing the one you loved was on the planet but not in your life; who had emerged out the other side of hell with a new understanding of himself… and her.
He was ready to meet real life head-to-head… and compromise.
He just prayed he wasn’t the only one.
As Xhex stared up at John, she found herself blinking like an idiot. Shit on a shingle, she hadn’t expected any of this: the personal call from Wrath
, the opportunity presented to her… and definitely not what John was saying to her now.
He was utterly sincere, though. This was not a calculated ploy to get her back into his life—although she knew that without reading his grid. Not his way.
He meant every word.
And he was still bonded to her, thank God.
The problem was… she had been to this corner with him before. She had been ready for a good stretch of happy normal. Instead? The most important relationship she had had crashed and burned.
“You sure you’re going to be okay with me heading into wherever they live and maybe fighting directly with them. Without backup.”
If anything happens to you, I’m going to be Tohr. Straight up. One hundred. But fear of that is not going to get me to try to keep you at home.
“You were pretty adamant that where Tohr is is not a place where you want to be.”
He shrugged. But see, I’m already in it if we’re not together. After you were injured, I think… I think I had this idea that if I could just get you not to fight, then I’d be safe from what he’s going through—that I wouldn’t be exposed to that shit because you wouldn’t get stabbed or… yeah, worse. But come on, downtown Caldwell is not the safest place on the planet, and it’s not like you’re working around children with that job at Trez’s. More to the point, I’m all in with you—whether it’s old age, the number nineteen bus or a bullet from the enemy… anything happens to you and I’m fucked.
Xhex narrowed her eyes. She could read his grid, but not every part of his brain, and before she opened up to him again and got her hopes up, it was critical to know that he’d thought this shit through. “What about afterward? Say I get the rifle and bring it back here and it turns out to be the weapon that was used—what if I want to go after them. Wrath is not my king, but I like the guy, and the idea that someone tried to snuff him makes me cranky.”
John’s stare didn’t waver, leading her to believe he had in fact considered that outcome. As long as I’m not on rotation with you, I’ll be okay. If I have to come in as backup—well, that’s just what it is, and we’ll deal with it—I’ll deal with it, he corrected. I just don’t want to be in the same territory as you if we can avoid it.
