Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(81)

"Nothing," she said in a voice that was too deep. "If you will pardon me, I shall take myself unto the sanctuary once again."

Layla went to get up, but Qhuinn captured her hand and tugged her

down. "Layla, what's doing."

God, that voice of his. So smooth, so kind. And so was his hand as he reached up and hooked her chin, lifting her eyes to his.

"I cannot speak of it."

"Yeah, you can." Qhuinn nodded in Blay's direction. "He and I will 210

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keep your confidence."

The Chosen took a deep breath and her exhale was one of defeat, like

she was out of gas, out of options, out of strength. "For truth? You shall remain silent?"

"Yup. Blay?"

"Yes, absolutely." He put his hand on his heart. "I swear. We'll do anything to help you. Anything."

She focused on Qhuinn, her stare locking on his. "Am I unpleasant to your eye, sire?" As he frowned, she prodded her cheekbones, her forehead.

"Do I deviate from the ideal in a fashion which renders me--"

"God, no. What are you talking about? You're beautiful."

"Then . . . whyfore do I remain un-called-upon."

"I don't understand--we do call on you. Regularly. Myself and Blay and John. Rhage and V. You are the one we all ask for because you--"

"None of you use me for aught save blood."

Blay rose from his kneel and backed up until his legs hit the chaise

and he found himself sitting down. As his ass bounced on the cushion, the expression on Qhuinn's face almost made him laugh. The guy was never

caught off guard. Part of that was because he'd been exposed to so much over his relatively short life, both by choice and by curse. And part was his personality. He handled himself in all situations. Period.

Except this one, evidently. Qhuinn looked like he'd been smacked in

the back of the head with a pool cue.

"I . . ." Qhuinn cleared his throat. "I . . . I . . ."

Ah, yes, another first. Stuttering.

Layla filled the silence. "I serve the males and Brothers within this place with pride. I give without receiving anything in return because it is my training and pleasure to do so. But I tell you this because you have asked and... I find I must. Every time I return to the sanctuary or to the Primale's home, I find myself increasingly empty. To the point that I think I may step aside. Verily . . ." She shook her head. "I cannot keep doing this even though it is all I ever saw my endeavors entailing. It's just . . . my heart cannot go on."

Qhuinn dropped his hands and rubbed his thighs. "Do you want . . .

Would you want to keep going if you could?"

"Of course." Her voice was strong and sure. "I am proud to be of service."

Now Qhuinn was dragging a hand through his thick black hair. "What would it take . . . to fulfill you?"

It was like watching a train wreck roll out. Blay should have left but 211

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he couldn't move; he just had to witness the collision.

And naturally, Layla's brilliant blush made her even more beautiful.

Then her full, lovely lips parted. Closed. Parted . . . closed again.

"It's okay," Qhuinn whispered. "You don't have to say it out loud. I know what you want."

Blay felt a cold sweat break out over his chest and his hands cranked down on the clothes he'd picked out for himself.

"Who," Qhuinn asked hoarsely. "Who do you want."

There was another long pause and then she said one word: "You."

Blay stood up. "I'll leave you two."

He was utterly blind as he made for the exit and he snagged his leather jacket on his way on instinct.

As he shut the door, he heard Qhuinn say, "We'll go very slowly. If we're going to do this, we're going to go very slowly."

Out in the hall, Blay put some fast distance between himself and his

bedroom, and it wasn't until he came up to the double doors that led into the staff wing that he realized he was walking around in a robe. Slipping into the set of stairs that led to the movie theater on the third floor, he changed into his clothes in front of the dormant popcorn machine.

The simmering anger deep in his gut was a kind of cancer, eating him

up. But it was so baseless. So useless.

Blay stood facing the shelves of DVDs, the titles on the jackets

nothing but a visual pattern to his eyes.

What he ended up reaching for wasn't a movie, however.

It was a slip of paper from his coat pocket.

212





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TWENTY-NINE

As the door to the recovery room shut, Xhex felt like she should say something. Out loud. To Rehvenge. "So. Ah." She pushed at her hair. "How are you--"

He cut off her awkward rambling by striding over to her, that red cane of his jabbing into the tile, his loafers clapping heel-toe, heel-toe. His expression was fierce, his violet eyes burning.

It was enough to give her a complex.

Pulling her sheet up higher, she muttered, "What the hell is wrong with y--"

Rehv swooped down with his long arms and gathered her up against

him, tucking her with vital care to his chest. Ducking his head to hers, his voice was deep and grave.