Lover Reborn tbdb-10

by J. R. Ward

  “Tell you what. You can drive and I’ll borrow your phone.” When there was a hesitation, he dropped his voice. “We’ve got to go now, Fritz. I need you.”

  The call to service was precisely the motivator the butler needed. With a low bow, he said, “As you wish, sire. And mayhap I shall pack you up some refreshments?”

  “Good idea. I need five minutes.”

  When the butler nodded and disappeared into the pantry, Tohr rounded the base of the stairs and took the red-carpeted steps two at a time. He stopped rushing when he got to John Matthew’s door.

  His knock was answered immediately, John pulling open the way with a jerk. As the kid’s face registered surprise, Tohr put his hands out in self-defense, because he knew he was going to get hollered at for disappearing again.

  “I’m sorry that I—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish. John threw his arms around Tohr and held him so hard, his spine cracked.

  Tohr was right there with returning the favor. And as he held the only son he had, he spoke in a low, clear voice.

  “John, I want you to get off rotation tonight and come with me. I need you… to come with me. Qhuinn can as well—and this is going to take all night—maybe longer.” As Tohr felt the nodding against his shoulder, he took a steadying breath. “Good, son. That’s… good. There’s no way I would do this without you.”

  “How you doing?”

  Layla opened her heavy eyes and looked up Qhuinn’s body to his face. Standing next to her side of the bed in his room, he was fully dressed, big and remote, awkward though not unkind.

  She knew how he felt. With the intense fire of the needing having passed, those hours of straining and pounding and clawing were done and dusted, a strange footnote that appeared to be already fading in her memory like a dream. When the two of them had been gripped in the fist of the experience, it had seemed as if nothing would ever be the same, that they would be forever changed and transformed by the volcanic eruptions.

  But now… the quiet return of normalcy appeared to be just as powerful, wiping the slate clean.

  “I think I’m ready to get up,” she said.

  He had been so good about feeding her from his vein and also bringing her food, and she had stayed on bed rest for at least twenty-fours afterward, as was the tradition up in the Sanctuary after the Primale had lain with a Chosen.

  It was time to get moving, however.

  “You can stay here, you know.” He went over to his closet and began to arm himself for the night. “Rest some more. Relax.”

  No, she had done enough of that.

  Pushing herself up on her arms, she waited to feel light-headed, and was relieved when she didn’t. If anything, she felt strong.

  There was no other way to put it. Her body just felt… strong.

  Shifting her legs off the side of the mattress, she put her weight on her bare soles and slowly rose up. Qhuinn came instantly to her side, but she didn’t need the help.

  “I think I’ll have a shower,” she announced.

  And after that? She didn’t have a clue what she was going to do.

  “I want you to stay here,” Qhuinn said as if reading her mind. “You are going to stay here. With me.”

  “We don’t know if I’m pregnant.”

  “All the more reason to take it easy. And if you are, you’re going to keep on staying with me.”

  “All right.” They were, after all, going to be in this together—assuming there was any “this” to be had.

  “I’m going out to fight now, but I have my cell phone with me at all times, and I’ve left you one on that bedside table.” He held his up and pointed to the one by the alarm clock. “You call or text if you need me, clear?”

  His face was dead serious, his eyes focusing on her with an intensity that gave her an idea of how accomplished he probably was in the field: Nothing and nobody was going to get in his way if she called for him.

  “I promise.”

  He nodded and went for the door. Before he opened the way out, he paused and seemed to be searching for words. “How will we know if you…”

  “Miscarry? I’ll start cramping, and then I will bleed. I saw it happen on the Other Side a number of times.”

  “Are you in any danger if you do?”

  “Not that I ever saw—not this early.”

  “Should you stay on bed rest?”

  “After the first twenty-four hours, if it’s going to take, it does—whether I am inactive or not at this point, our die is already cast.”

  “Let me know?”

  “As soon as I do.”

  He turned away. Appeared to stare at the face of the door for a moment. “It’s going to stick.”

  Of that he was far more confident than she, but it was gratifying to learn of his faith, and his desire for what she wanted.

  “I’ll be back at dawn,” he said.

  “I shall be here.”

  After he left, she attended to herself in the shower, passing the bar of soap over her lower belly again and again. It seemed odd to have such a potentially momentous thing occurring in her own body, and to be as yet unaware of the particulars.

  They would find out soon enough, though. Most females bled within the first week if they were going to.

  When she got out from beneath the spray, she toweled off and discovered that he’d thoughtfully left another of her robes upon the counter, and she drew it on, along with some underthings in the event that a termination event occurred.

  In the main bedroom, she sat down on the duvet to pull on her slipper shoes, and then…

  There was nothing for her to do. And the silence and stillness were rotten companions for her anxiety.

  Unbidden, the image of Xcor’s face returned to her once again.

  With a soft curse, she feared she would never forget the manner in which he had regarded her, his eyes staring up at her as if she were a vision he couldn’t fully comprehend, yet would be e’er grateful for having seen but once.

  Unlike memories of the needing, the sensations she had felt when that male had focused upon her were as incandescent as the moment she had lived them, unfaded through the months that separated her from that meeting. Except… had she simply imagined it all? Was it possible that the recollection was strong simply because it was fantasy?

  Clearly, if the needing was anything to go by, real life faded fast.

  The desire to be wanted did not, however—

  The knock on the door made her gather herself. “Yes?”

  Through the panels, a female voice replied, “It’s Xhex. Mind if I come in?”

  She couldn’t imagine what the female was doing seeking her out. Still, she liked John’s mate, and she would always entertain his shellan.

  “Oh, please do—hello, this is a welcome surprise.”

  Xhex shut them in together, and awkwardly looked everywhere but upon her face. “So, ah… how are you feeling?”

  Indeed, she had the sense a lot of people were going to be asking her that in the coming week. “Well enough.”

  “Good. Yeah… good.”

  Long silence. “Is there something I may help you with?” Layla asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Then by all means, tell me and I shall do whatever I can.”

  “It’s complicated.” Xhex narrowed her eyes. “And dangerous.”

  Layla put her hand over her lower belly as if to shelter her young in case there was one. “Whate’er do you seek?”

  “On Wrath’s orders, I’m trying to find Xcor.”

  Layla’s chest constricted, her mouth opening so she could breathe. “Indeed.”

  “I know you’re aware of what he did.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I also know you fed him.”

  Layla blinked as the image of that cruel, strangely vulnerable face came to her anew. For a split second, she had the absurd instinct to protect him—but that was ridiculous, and not something she would sust
ain.

  “Of course I will help you and Wrath. I’m glad the king has reconsidered his earlier stance.”

  Now the female hesitated. “What if I told you Wrath couldn’t know about it. No one could, especially not Qhuinn. Would that change your mind?”

  John, she thought. John had told his mate what had transpired.

  “I realize,” Xhex said, “that I’m putting you in a terrible position, but you know what my nature is. I’ll use anything at my disposal to get what I want, and I want to find Xcor now. I have no doubt that I’ll be able to protect you, and I don’t have any intention of getting you anywhere near him. I just need the general area where he settles at night, and I’ll take it from there.”

  “Are you going to kill him?”

  “No, but I’m going to give the Brotherhood the ammunition to do so. The weapon that was used to shoot at Wrath was a rifle with a long-range scope—not the kind of thing anyone would take into the field on a normal night. Assuming they haven’t destroyed it, they’ll leave it behind when they go out. If I can get ahold of it, and we can prove what they did, things are going to take their natural course.”

  Kind eyes, she thought… the male had had such kind eyes when he’d stared up at her. But in fact, he was the enemy of her king.

  Layla felt her head nod. “I shall help you. I shall do anything I can… and not say a word.”

  The female came over and put a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder. “I hate putting you in this position. War is an ugly, ugly business that specializes in compromising good people such as yourself. I can feel how this is tearing you up, and I’m sorry that I’m asking you to lie.”

  It was lovely of the symphath to offer concern, but her conflict was not with giving false testimony to the Brotherhood. It was the fighter she would be helping to kill.

  “Xcor used me,” she said, as if trying to convince herself.

  “He’s very dangerous. You’re lucky to have come out of meeting him alive.”

  “I will do what is right.” She glanced up at Xhex. “When do we leave?”

  “Right now. If you’re able to.”

  Layla called upon deep recesses of strength. Then nodded. “Allow me to get my coat.”

  SIXTY-FIVE

  Hours later, as Marissa sat at her desk at Safe Place, she answered her cell phone and couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “It’s you again.”

  Butch’s Boston-accented voice was full of gravel. As usual. “When are you coming home?”

  She looked at her watch and thought, Where had the night gone? Then again, it was always this way at work. She came in as soon as the sun was safely below the horizon, and before she knew it, the light was threatening in the east, and driving her back to the compound.

  Into the arms of her male.

  Hardly a chore, that was.

  “About forty-five minutes?”

  “You could come now.…”

  The way he drawled those words suggested an altogether different meaning to that verb than “return home.” “Butch—”

  “I didn’t make it out of bed tonight.”

  She bit her lip, picturing him naked in the sheets that had been messy when she left. “No?”

  “Mmm, no.” He drew out the syllables—at least until his breath caught. “I’ve been thinking about you.…”

  His voice was so deep, so raw, that she knew exactly what he was doing to himself, and for a moment she closed her eyes and indulged in some seriously beautiful mental pictures.

  “Marissa… come home.…”

  Snapping herself together, she pulled out of the spell he knew damn well he was weaving around her. “I can’t leave quite now. But I’ll start getting ready to check out—how about that?”

  “Perfect.” She could hear the grin on his face. “I’ll be here waiting for you—and listen, all kidding aside, take as long as you need. Just come back here first before you go to Last Meal? I want to give you an hors d’oeuvre you won’t forget.”

  “You’re pretty unforgettable already.”

  “That’s my girlie. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  As she ended the call, that big, fat, happy smile stayed on her face. Her mate was a traditional kind of male, “old-school,” as he called himself, with all the biases that came with that mental set: Females should never pay for anything, open a door, pump gas into their cars, step through a mud puddle, carry something larger than what could fit in a sandwich bag… you name it. But he never got in the way of her job. Ever. That was the one area of her life where she called the shots, and he never complained about her hours, her workload, or her stress level.

  Which was just one of the many reasons she adored the Brother. The displaced females and children who stayed at Safe Place were a kind of family to her, one that she was the head of: She was in charge of the facility, the staff, the programs, the resources, and, most important, everything and everybody who was under its roof. And she loved her job. When Wrath had given her the charter to run the charity, she had nearly balked, but she was so glad she had fought through the fear to find her professional purpose.

  “Marissa?”

  Glancing up, she found one of the newer counselors standing in her office’s doorway. “Hi, there. How was group tonight?”

  “Really good. I’ll be filing my report in about an hour—right after we finish making cookies down in the kitchen. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but there’s a gentlemale here with a delivery?”

  “Really?” She frowned at the calendar on the wall. “We don’t have anything scheduled.”

  “I know, so I haven’t unlocked the door. He said you’d know him, but he didn’t give his name. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t call the Brotherhood?”

  “What does he look like?”

  The female reached a hand up over her head. “Very tall. Big. He’s got dark hair with a white stripe in front?”

  Marissa jumped up so fast her chair let out a squeak on the floor. “Tohrment? He’s alive?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I’ll handle this. It’s okay—you head back to the kitchen.”

  Marissa shot out of her office and went down the front set of stairs. Pausing by the main entrance, she checked the security monitor that V had installed, and then immediately yanked open the door.

  She threw herself at the Brother without thinking. “Oh, God, where have you been! You were lost for nights!”

  “Not really.” He returned her embrace gently. “I was just taking care of some business. But it’s all good.”

  She stepped back, but held on to both his thick biceps. “Are you okay?”

  Everyone at the mansion knew that Autumn had gone through her needing, and she could imagine how hard that had been on him. And she’d hoped, as they all had, that the growing relationship between the Brother and the quiet, fallen aristocrat would heal him. Instead, he’d disappeared after she’d come out of her fertile time, and Autumn had moved out of the house.

  Not a happy outcome, obviously.

  “Listen, I know you take donations, right?” he said.

  Respecting the fact that he hadn’t answered her question, she stopped probing. “Oh, we absolutely do. We’ll take anything—we’re experts at adaptive reuse around here.”

  “Good, because I have some things I’d like to give the females, maybe? I’m not sure you can use any of it, but…”

  He turned and led the way over to the Brotherhood’s van, which was parked at the head of the driveway. Fritz was in the passenger seat, and the old butler hopped out as she approached.

  For once, he did not have a cheery smile on his face. He did bow deeply, however. “Madam, how fare thee?”

  “Oh, very well, Fritz, thank you.”

  She fell silent as Tohr slid the side panel back—

  One look inside and she stopped breathing.

  Illuminated by the van’s overhead light were neat piles of what appeared to be clothes in laundry baskets, card
board boxes, open duffels. There were also skirts and blouses and dresses still on their hangers, draped with care on the floorboards.

  Marissa looked at Tohr.

  The Brother was silent and staring at the ground—and clearly not about to make eye contact. “Like I said, I’m not sure you can use any of it.”

  She leaned in and fingered one of the dresses.

  The last time she had seen it, it had been on Wellsie.

  These were his shellan’s clothes.

  In a voice that cracked, she whispered, “Are you sure you want to give this away?”

  “Yeah. Throwing it all out just seems like such a waste, and she wouldn’t approve of that. Wellsie would want them to be used by others—that would be important to her. She hated waste. But, yeah, I don’t know about the whole female-size thing, though.”

  “This is very generous of you.” She studied the male’s face, realizing it was the first time since he’d come back after the killing that she’d heard him say the name. “We will use all of it.”

  He nodded, his eyes still avoiding hers. “I included unopened toiletries, too? Like shampoo and conditioner, her moisturizer, that Clinique soap she liked? Wellsie was really fussy about that kind of stuff—she tended to find something she liked and stick to it—she was also big into backups, so there was a lot when I cleaned out our bathroom. Oh, and I also have some of her kitchen things—those copper pans she preferred, and her knives? I can take that to a human Goodwill if you—”

  “We’ll take anything you have.”

  “Here’s the cooking stuff.” Tohrment went around and opened the back to show her. “And I know you don’t allow males inside, but maybe I could put it all in the garage?”

  “Yes, yes, please. Let me go and get some extra hands to help us—”

  “I’d like to carry it in myself, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh yes, of course… yes.” Shaking herself, she jogged over and punched in the code on the keypad by the garage doors.

  As the left side trundled open, she went over and stood by the butler as Tohrment went back and forth at a steady pace, carrying his mate’s possessions with care, creating a tall, orderly pile right by the door that led into the kitchen.