by J. R. Ward
After the night of the big reveal at the Mask, they’d had a number of long talks, and decided that they were going to take the relationship thing step by step, without making assumptions. They had been friends, then sort of enemies, then lovers of a kind…before they’d finally gotten their shit together. And just because they’d hung out for years, and they knew each other in a lot of ways, boyfriends was a different thing.
“Yeah. Fresh slate.” As Qhuinn leaned in for a kiss, Blay’s phone went off with a text.
Naturally, Qhuinn wasn’t interested in communications from the outside world, and continued to lick his way into Blay’s mouth, even as Blay reached out for the cell.
Blay had to hold it over Qhuinn’s heavy shoulders as the guy maneuvered on top, rubbing his still-hard cock on Blay’s—
“What the hell?” Blay said, breaking the lip contact.
“Have we been interrupted?”
“Yeah…Butch says he needs me in the Pit for a wardrobe consult?”
“Well, you do have perfect style.”
For some reason, the comment made him think of Saxton. As soon as Qhuinn and he had decided to make things legit, Blay had told the lawyer what was going on—and the gentlemale had been gracious beyond measure…and not at all surprised. He’d even said it was a kind of relief in a strange way, a sign that all was right in the world, even though it had sucked for him.
At least Blay had gotten his true love, he’d said.
Now, if only Saxton could find his.
“I’d better head over there,” he muttered. “Maybe it’s date night.”
As he went to get out of bed, Qhuinn’s hands locked on his hips and pulled him in for another long, lingering kiss.
When Qhuinn eased back, his eyes were half-closed. “Date night’s a great idea. You wanna go dancing with me sometime?”
“Dancing?” Blay laughed. “You would go dancing. With me.”
It was everything Qhuinn hated: kind of schmaltzy, lot of eyes on them, and, assuming they did it in public, they had to be fully clothed.
“If you wanted me to, I would in a heartbeat.”
Blay put his hand on the male’s face. Qhuinn was trying really hard, and Blay was more than willing to wait for the day when the guy was ready to be into the PDA. The Brotherhood and the household knew that they were together—it was kind of obvious after Qhuinn had moved his stuff into this room. But you didn’t spend a lifetime in denial and automatically feel comfy sucking face with your boyfriend in front of God and everyone else.
But he was trying. And he was talking—a lot—about his family and his brother, who was slowly, painfully trying to recover down in the clinic.
Behind closed doors, though? It was magic, without any barriers at all.
Exactly what Blay had always wanted.
“Are you going down to First Meal?” Blay asked as the shutters began to rise from the windows.
“Maybe I’ll just stay here and wait to eat you when you come back.”
Ah, yes, that naughty growl was in Qhuinn’s voice again, and didn’t that make Blay want to hop back in between the sheets.
“You are—” As a groan echoed up, Blay stopped in the process of heading into the bathroom. “Where is your hand?”
“Where do you think it is.” Qhuinn arched, one fang biting down on his lower lip.
Blay thought of the text that he didn’t intend to ignore. “You suck.”
“Yes, I do, don’t I.” Qhuinn licked his lips. “And you like me to.”
Blay cursed and marched into the bath. At this rate, he was never going to get out of their room….
And sure enough, one hot shower and a shave later, Qhuinn was still in bed, lounging like a lion, his black hair tousled from Blay’s hands, his half-lidded, mismatched eyes promising all kinds of pneumatics when Blay returned.
Horny motherfucker.
“You’re just going to lie there?” Blay chided from over at the exit.
“Oh, I don’t know…might get some exercise in while you’re gone.” A hiss was followed by another one of those groans—and what do you know, under the sheets and duvet, the up-and-down motion of his arm made Blay remember all kinds of messy, sweaty, marvelous things. “Working out is so important, you know.”
Blay gritted his molars and wrenched the door open. “I’ll be back.”
“Take your time. Anticipation just makes me harder.”
“Yeah, like you need help with that.”
Shutting things firmly, he rearranged himself in his loose nylon track pants and cursed again. Butch had better have a good fucking reason for needing Blay’s opinion.
And a problem that could be solved quickly.
* * *
The second Blay was out of Dodge, Qhuinn threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. Grabbing his phone off his bedside table, he hit send on the text that he’d pretyped and then beelined for the shower. Fortunately, the water was already warm.
Soap at a dead run. Shampoo in a New York minute. Shave—
“Ow!” he barked as he cut himself on the chin.
Closing his eyes, he forced himself to slow the fuck down before he sliced off his nose: razor on the cheek, moving carefully, going around the jawline, down the neck. Repeat. Repeat.
Why the hell did he insist on doing this in the shower? On a night like tonight, he should be in front of a mirror….
“Yo, beauty queen, you ready?” Rhage’s voice cut through into the bathroom. “Or do you want to wax your eyebrows.”
Qhuinn did a quick whisker check with his hand. Clear. “Fuck off, Hollywood,” he yelled over the spray.
Cutting the water, he stepped out, and dried off on his way into the bedroom.
Standing next to a smiling Tohr, Rhage had his arms behind his back. “That’s a helluva way to talk to your frickin’ stylist.”
Qhuinn leveled a glare at the Brothers. “If that shit is a Hawaiian print, I’m going to kill you.”
Rhage looked over at Tohr and grinned. When the other Brother nodded, Hollywood brought forward what he was hiding behind his big body.
Qhuinn stopped dead. “Wait a minute…that’s a…”
“Tuxedo, I believe is the name,” Rhage cut in. “T-U-X-E-D-O.”
“It’s in your size,” Tohr said. “And Butch says the designer is the best there is.”
“Named after a car,” Rhage muttered. “You’d think a high-falutin—”
“Hey, have you been watching Honey Boo Boo, too?” Lassiter demanded as he barged in. “Woooow, nice tux—”
“Only because you insist on putting that godforsaken traffic accident of a show on in the billiards room.” Hollywood glanced over as V came in behind the angel. “He didn’t even know what it was, Vishous.”
“The tux?” V lit a hand-rolled. “Of course he didn’t. He’s a real male.”
“That makes Butch a girl, then,” Rhage pointed out. “Because he bought it.”
“Hey, it’s a party already,” Trez called out as he and iAm arrived. “Oh, nice tux. Isn’t that Tom Ford?”
“Or was it Dick Chrysler,” Rhage interjected. “Harry GM—wait, that sounds dirty….”
“Better get dressed, Rapunzel.” V checked his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“That is a beautiful tuxedo,” Phury announced as he and Z pushed the door wide. “I have one just like it.”
“Fritz has the candles lit,” Rehv said from behind the twins. “Hey, nice tux. I have one just like it.”
“Me, too,” Phury agreed. “The fit is fantastic, isn’t it.”
“The shoulders, right? Tom Ford is the best—”
Total. Fucking. Pandemonium.
And as Qhuinn took it in, all of the males talking over one another, slapping hands, slapping asses, he had a moment of breathlessness. Then he looked down at the ring Blay had given him.
Having a family was…really, incredibly wonderful.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Eve
ryone froze, all those faces turning and locking on him, those bodies stilling, the din settling.
Z was the one who spoke up, his yellow eyes shining. “Put the zoot suit on. We’ll meet you downstairs, lover boy.”
Lot of shoulder claps as all the fighters checked in on their way out the door. And then he was alone with the tux.
“Let’s do this,” he said to the thing.
The shirt went on fine, but the buttons weren’t regular ones. They were cuff link–like, and took forever. Then he faced off with the slacks…and decided to keep it real and go commando. Finally, a pair of shiny shoes had been dropped on the messy bed by one of that cast of thousands—as well as a set of black silk socks that were just this side of being panty frickin’ hose.
But he was going to do this right.
When he finally put the jacket on, he braced himself for feeling constricted, but Phury and Rehv were right—the material went over his bulk like a dream. Heading into the bathroom, he took the strip of black silk off the top of the hanger and confronted himself in the mirror.
Man…he looked pretty hot, actually.
Popping the starched collar, he wound the bow tie around the back of his neck and pulled it left and right a couple of times to make sure that it was in the right place. And then he did what he’d seen his father and his brother do when they hadn’t been aware he was watching…he tied a perfect knot at the front of his throat.
Probably would have been easier if he’d taken the suit jacket off.
And if his hands weren’t shaking so badly.
But whatever, he got the job done.
Stepping back, he checked himself from the left and the right. From behind.
Yeah, he was totally spank. The trouble was, he just didn’t look like himself. At all.
That was a problem for him. Authentic had recently become totally important to him.
Thanks to a lack of attention, his hair had settled flat and smooth, and on impulse, he went for the product Blay and he shared, slicking up his palms and running them through the nap, spiking things up.
Better. Made him feel less like a tool.
But something still wasn’t right….
As he tried to figure out what was so off, he thought about how things had been rolling: After he and Blay had had their big talk at the Iron Mask, he’d been amazed at how light he felt, the burden he’d been unaware of carrying freed from his shoulders. It was so weird…but he’d caught himself taking these random deep breaths from time to time, his chest rising slowly and sinking back into place on an easy fall.
On some level, he continued to expect that he’d wake up and find out that it was all a dream. But every night, he came to with his arms around Blay, the guy’s bonding scent in his nose, that warm body right beside his own.
I love you. You’re perfect, just the way you are.
Always.
As Blay’s voice rebounded in his head, he closed his eyes and swayed….
Abruptly, he popped his lids and looked at the cupboard under the sinks.
Yes, he thought. That was what he needed.
A couple minutes later, he left their bedroom feeling exactly as he should, tux and all.
When he came to the head of the grand staircase, the votives that had been lined up on either side all the way down glowed and flickered. There were more below in the foyer: on the mantelpieces, on the floor, mounted up and around the archways that led into the other rooms.
“You look good, son.”
Qhuinn turned and glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, m’lord.”
Wrath came out of the study with his queen on one arm, and his dog on the other side. “I don’t need my eyes to tell me you do the penguin duds justice.”
“Thanks for letting me do this.”
Wrath smiled, flashing those huge white fangs. Tugging his female in for a quick kiss, he laughed. “I’m a fucking romantic at heart, don’t you know that.”
Beth laughed and reached out to squeeze Qhuinn’s arm. “Good luck—but you don’t need it.”
He wasn’t so sure about that. In fact, as he let the First Family go down alone, he struggled to pull his shit together. Rubbing his face, he wondered why in the hell he’d thought this was a good idea—
Do not be a pussy, he told himself.
Starting on the descent, he pulled the two halves of the jacket together and buttoned them. Just like a gentlemale should.
He was halfway down when the vestibule’s inner door opened wide, the draft causing all the votives to shimmer.
Qhuinn stopped as Fritz escorted two figures in, the pair of them stamping their feet to warm up. On cue, both looked over at him.
Blay’s parents were dressed formally, his father in a tuxedo, his mother in the most beautiful blue velvet gown Qhuinn had ever seen.
“Qhuinn!” she called out, picking up her skirting and rushing across the mosaic floor. “Look at you!”
Feeling his cheeks burn, he ducked his head and shuffled down to her. Even though she was a whole foot shorter, even in her heels, he felt about twelve as she took his hands and held them out wide.
“Oh, you are the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen!”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “I, ah, wanted to look nice.”
“You do! Doesn’t he, my hellren?”
Blay’s father came over and stuck out his hand. “Well done, son.”
“It’s a Ford. Thingy.” God, way to sound stupid. “Or something.”
As he and Blay’s father shook, and then embraced, Blay’s dad said, “I couldn’t be happier for you both.”
Blay’s mom started sniffling and took out a white handkerchief. “This is so wonderful. I have another son—two sons! Come here, I have to hug you. Two sons!”
Qhuinn gave in immediately, as he was categorically incapable of denying the female anything—most certainly not one of her hugs. They were even better than her lasagna.
God, he loved Blay’s parents. He and Blay had gone to see them a couple of nights after they’d decided to make a go of it, and although Qhuinn had been pants-shitting terrified, the pair of them had been nothing but gracious, relaxed, and…normal.
But Blay hadn’t been aware of the visit Qhuinn had paid the night before, just after nightfall, before they’d hit the club….
As Qhuinn eased back, he caught sight of Layla standing just outside the dining room. Motioning her over, he put his arm around her shoulders, because he could tell she was feeling awkward.
“This is the Chosen Layla.”
“Just Layla,” she murmured as she extended her hand.
In response, Blay’s father bowed deeply, and his mother curtsied.
“Please, that’s not necessary,” the Chosen started, only to relax when the couple immediately dropped the formality.
“My dear, Qhuinn has told us the blessed news.” Blay’s mahmen beamed. “How ever are you feeling?”
Score number two for Blay’s ’rents. Qhuinn couldn’t believe how cool they’d been when he’d shared the news of the pregnancy—and they were just as easygoing as ever as they put Layla at ease.
Man, they had been like this for as long as Qhuinn had known them, uncontaminated by all the glymera’s bullshit, unconcerned by the judgment of the aristocracy, ready to do the right thing at the drop of a hat.
No wonder Blay had come out so well….
“He’s heading over,” V yelled from the pitch-black of the billiards room. “We’ve got to scatter, people—right now.”
“Come with us,” Blay’s mahmen said as she tucked Layla’s arm into her own. “You need to make sure we don’t hit any furniture.”
As they headed off, Layla glanced over her shoulder and beamed. “I’m so excited for you!”
Qhuinn smiled back. “Thanks.”
Cue a moment of nausea, he thought, as he turned and faced the entrance into the mansion.
With the house quiet and the candles still, he waited, feeling numb all over.
> Showtime.
* * *
Okay, this made no sense, Blay thought as he hotfooted it across the courtyard.
“You look great!” Butch called out from the Pit’s front door.
He still didn’t understand how he’d ended up in a tuxedo. Butch had laid out some kind of story about needing Blay to model the damn thing for Vishous in hopes of getting the guy to buy one. But that was crazy. Butch could have just thrown on one of the four he owned and paraded around himself.
Besides, nobody talked V into anything. The Brother was as unpersuadable as a rock.
Whatever—he just wanted to get this over with so he could head back upstairs—and hopefully find Qhuinn still in bed.
As he bounded up the stairs to the grand entrance of the mansion, his slick shoes made the salt crackle like a fire, and as soon as he got inside the vestibule, he stamped his feet so the glossy leather didn’t get ruined. Putting his face into the security camera, he—
The door opened, and at first he didn’t know what he was looking at. Everything was dark—no, that wasn’t true. There was candlelight glowing in every corner of the foyer, reflecting off the gold of the balustrade, and the chandeliers, and the mirrors….
Qhuinn was standing in the middle of the great space. Alone.
Blay walked through the threshold on feet that he couldn’t feel.
His lover and his best friend was dressed in the most beautiful tuxedo Blay had ever seen—then again, that was less about the garment, more about the male who was wearing it: The black jacket set off his spiked hair, the white of the shirt made the male’s tanned skin look luminous, and the cut…was a reminder of how perfect that warrior body was.
But that wasn’t what really got to him.
It was those mismatched eyes, the blue and the green, that glowed so beautifully they put the votives to shame. Qhuinn seemed nervous, though, his hands fidgeting, his weight going back and forth in a pair of shiny shoes.
Blay walked forward, stopping when he was in front of the fighter. And even as his brain started to churn over what all this meant, and began to come to some crazy conclusions, he had to grin like crazy. “You put your piercings back in.”
“Yeah. I just…I wanted to make sure you knew this was me, you know.”
