A Warm Heart in Winter(18)

But fiction could pale in comparison to destiny.

In ways both good and bad.

For instance, who’d have ever thought Qhuinn would have been made an official member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood?

Or that the male would ever have decided to settle down. With the best friend who had loved him since they were young.

Luchas was right about one thing. The two brothers had traded places.

It was just such a shame that the former’s fall from grace had been so devastating.



Paper cut.

Huge, weird, inexplicable paper cut.

As Qhuinn came out of anesthesia, his first thought was that someone had taken a manila folder, a crisp, brand-spanking-new manila folder, and whipped it right across his lower abdominals. It was the only way to explain the sweet sting striping between his hip bones, right below his belly button. Except . . . the discomfort wasn’t a surface kind of thing. The sensation was deep inside.

So maybe it was more like part of his intestines had decided to lick a Publishers Clearing House envelope.

Just as he was coming to the conclusion that he had been through so much worse in the owie department, his eyes flipped open.

The medical light fixture above him brought it all back, as did the beep, beep, beep that seemed to suggest that he had a heartbeat as regular as a metronome.

Another piece of good news—

Without warning, a face appeared above his own.

Manny Manello.

The dark-haired human had a surgical mask hanging loose in front of his neck, like a feed bag he’d emptied of grain. When he smiled, his fangless teeth were white and his dark eyes were kind.

“You’re all set.” Manny flashed a thumbs-up. “No internal damage, but it’s a good thing we already took out your spleen. It’s like your organs did some parkour and got away from the blade. Considering what could have been sliced? You’re very lucky.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Qhuinn cleared his throat, which was sore from the intubation. “Where are—”

“I’ll send your people in.”

“Is it okay for the—”

“Yup, the kids are fine to join you.” Manny patted his patient’s knee. “And you don’t have to stay down here for much longer. You’re cleared to head back to the big house as soon as you’re steady enough to walk.”

“Awesome. You’re amazing.”

“Please don’t stop with the compliments. And let’s get your family in here.”

The surgeon went over and opened the door, and Layla was the first to come in. The Chosen had Rhamp in her arms, and her beautiful face was worried—but that concern lifted instantly as Qhuinn clapped his hands.

“There’s my boy,” he said as he hit the button to raise the head of the hospital bed. “And the best mahmen there is.”

Blay was right behind her with Lyric, and the instant the little one saw her sire, she put out her arms, straining for contact.

“Oh, sweetie, Daddy’s okay.” Qhuinn took her first, putting aside the remote and settling her on the bedside as he kissed his mate. “It’s all good.”

Lyric crawled up his chest and snuggled in quick, all chubby and warm and perfect, finding her favorite place in his neck. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deep and smelled Desitin, fresh Huggies, and Aveeno baby wash—and when her little sock-covered foot dug into his belly, he mostly kept his wince to himself.

“No, I’ve got her,” he said to Blay. “I’m okay. And gimme another kiss.”

After a brief contact and a shared smile with his mate, Qhuinn reached up and touched his son’s soft and round face. Immediately, Rhamp grabbed on to the forefinger and yanked back and forth, as if he were making Qhuinn wave to himself.

“We were so worried,” Layla murmured.

“I don’t ever want to scare you guys.” Qhuinn smiled as Rhamp started talking, all the babbling like the kid was giving him a lecture to stay safe in the field. “Really? Tell me more.”

“He’s on a roll,” Blay remarked with a smile.

“When this big guy starts stringing actual words together, we’re going to have quite a ride.”

And he couldn’t wait. He wanted to know what his son had to say. His daughter, too.

“Where’s the last quarter of our fantastic foursome?” Qhuinn asked.

“Xcor’s still out in the field.” Layla sat on the foot of the bed and settled Rhamp on her lap. “He wanted to be here, but I told him you’d rather he stay on shift.”

“Damn right I would. We need everyone out there right now, and I can see him when the sun’s up.”

“That’s exactly how I thought you’d feel.”

“You know me too well.”

There was a momentary quiet, and then Blay and Layla started talking about the upcoming human holidays, and some kind of Party Planning Committee run by—God forbid—Lassiter. As they clearly made an effort to get back to normal, Qhuinn was glad things moved away from the drama. He’d had to work hard to keep his mind from going into the I’m-going-to-die swamp, and he’d just as soon start putting distance in whatever form it came in between him and the stabbing.

On that note, he shifted Lyric around so she lay cradled in the crook of his arm. Then he smoothed her Boston Red Sox onesie and gently poked her tummy. As she giggled, her newly acquired baby teeth showed, two on the top, two on the bottom.