A Warm Heart in Winter(83)

The flush that hit Blay’s face was pretty much the best thing Qhuinn had seen all night, and he squeezed his mate’s hand—then kept ahold of it, especially as they walked down the grand staircase. As much as he loved everyone in the household, he hoped they didn’t run into anybody else. There was too much on his mind, too much sapping his energy.

But meeting with V was different.

Figure out how to cope.

As he and Blay went out through the vestibule, the cold was a slap, and he liked it. It seemed easier for him to breathe.

Glancing over at Blay, he frowned. “Do you want my coat?”

He was in the process of taking his jacket off when Blay put his hand on his arm. “No. I’m good.”

Qhuinn put an arm around the male and pulled him close. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“You always do.”

Together, they descended the stone steps and went around the fountain—and he noted that a replacement tarp had been secured across the sculpture and its basin. On that note, he glanced back at the mansion over his shoulder. The glass that had been broken on the second floor had already been replaced.

Healing. In the bricks-and-mortar sense.

As they came up to the Pit, they didn’t have to knock. Vishous opened things and seemed prepared to go to work: He not only had his muscle-shirt-andleathers uniform on, he was sporting a lit hand-rolled in one hand and a rocks glass of what had to be Goose in the other.

So yeah, Qhuinn thought, the brother was ready for anything.

“How we doing? What do you need?”

They stepped into the Pit’s warm interior, and Qhuinn was aware of a nervousness clutching the front of his throat. Stripping off his jacket, he worried about things he couldn’t control: Names, addresses, people who had moved, people who lied about their identities.

You know, the social equivalent of new owners doing the floors over.

He took yet another deep breath. “We need to search for a woman or female my brother might have had contact with before the raids.”

V went totally still. But only for a split second. Then he nodded once and went over to his Four Toys. Sitting down in front of his computers, he put his drink aside and his hand-rolled between his teeth. “Name.”

Blay held out his phone and Qhuinn took the thing and put it in front of the brother. He should have said the name. But it felt . . . sacred, somehow.

“There’s an address there, too,” he mumbled. Like the brother couldn’t frickin’ read?

V set to typing, his fingers, both the ones in the lead-lined glove and the ones that were not, flying over a keyboard. “Have a seat. This’ll take a minute.”

Qhuinn and Blay parked it on the sofa, the two of them side by side, their knees together, their backs straight. Like they were a couple of schoolkids trying to make a good impression on the teacher.

Like maybe if they behaved themselves, V would find what they needed—

“Got her.”

Qhuinn burst up and tripped over the coffee table on the way back to the desk. And even before he got in range, V leaned to the side in his office chair so there was plenty of room to get close to the monitors.

The central screen was showing the front and back of a current New York State driver’s license. The image was of . . . a dark-haired woman staring into the camera with dark eyes. Her height was listed as five six, she had corrective lenses, and she was an organ donor. The name was definitely Anna Sophia Laval.

“The address is different,” Blay murmured.

V tapped his hand-rolled over his ashtray. “This is her current address. I found the one on the note as her previous residence.”

“So this really is her,” Qhuinn said as he moved even closer to the image. Not that it got him any more information about her or any further acuity on her features. “But we don’t know if she’s one of us—or do we?”

“I’ve initiated a deep search into the species database from the Audience House. In about an hour, I’ll know more.”

Qhuinn continued to stare at that face. The photograph was not all that distinct, but even if it were in hard focus, it wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to know.

For those questions, he was going to need to speak to the woman.

Or vampire.

Herself.





The Brotherhood House was typically at its most quiet between one and four p.m. in the afternoons. Those three hours were not only the dead zone between Last Meal cleanup and First Meal prep, they were when the doggen themselves retired to their quarters for a brief rest from all their other duties like housework, supply acquisition, and planning. So, yup, as Qhuinn sat propped up against the headboard in his and his mate’s bedroom, he just listened to all the silence. Beside him, sleeping on his stomach under a heavy load of covers, Blay was twitching like a Labrador chasing bunnies in his dreams.

“Shh,” Qhuinn said as he stroked his male’s bare shoulder. “Be easy.”

Instantly, his mate stilled. Then there was a turn of the head, Blay’s face now in his direction. A big inhale followed, and, finally, a slow exhale.

Qhuinn smiled to himself. “You just rest. I’ve got you.”

As Blay fell back into REM land, Qhuinn repositioned himself against the stack of pillows he’d punched up an hour ago, crossing his arms and staring across the dim room.