The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #13)(54)

Eventually, she stopped before the flames, putting her hands on her hips as if arguing with them in her mind.

“My sister is dying,” she blurted.

Xcor released his breath on a curse. “I am sorry.”

“Her life is coming to an end.” Layla’s hands went to her swollen belly. “I have never really had a lover. In spite of this pregnancy, I feel like I am a virgin.”

Xcor settled his weight upon the chair’s padded arm. Or collapsed was more like it. For one, he hated thinking of the mechanics of how she had begotten the young. For two …

He shook his head, tossing that thought right out. “The male has not mistreated you, has he?”

“Oh, no. And I do love Qhuinn. He is my family. But as I told you, the mating that occurred during my needing was solely for the purpose of having a young. I can barely remember what transpired.” She looked over at him, the flickering glow making her seem impossibly beautiful. “My sister is dying. I am alive and I have not lived. That is why I say to you … show me.”

It was not supposed to be like this between them.

Layla hadn’t meant to reveal this truth about herself to Xcor. Or to ask him to do what she had. But ever since she had walked into this little house, her brain had been functioning on two tracks: one here with him, the other back in that exam room at the training center.

Where she had stood over the contorted body of her sister, horrified to find out that yet another of them had been stricken with the Arrest.

Paranoia made her wonder if she had the disease; if she could pass it down to her young. There had been no episodes for her, but when had they started for Selena? Layla was younger than the other Chosen … was it only a matter of time?

Of course, there was a good possibility that the mental wheel spin was tied to her hormones. She had noticed her thinking growing more convoluted and less accurate as the pregnancy had continued.

That did not, however, change the reality that, as all but a virgin who was in fact pregnant, she was scared of never knowing sex. Angry at what she had been denied by fate. Grateful for her young, and yet stifled by her body’s natural progress.

And Xcor was the only one she could turn to. The Brothers were all mated, and besides, she didn’t think of them sexually. Further, it wasn’t as if she were going to come into contact with anything else of the male persuasion anytime soon.

Xcor was her only avenue to express the toxic mix of fear and yearning.

He cleared his throat. “You need to consider this more thoroughly.”

Lowering her eyes, she focused on his hips, at the straining length behind the fly of his combat pants. “I am.”

His sharp inhale inflated that powerful chest and he dropped his hands to cover himself. The veins running down into his blunt fingers were yet another symbol of the power in his body, and abruptly, she wondered what his hands looked like on his sex.

“Leave the now,” he said. “And consider—”

“No.”

“I am not a toy, Layla. I am not something to be taken out and played with—and put away at will. Once certain doors are opened, they cannae be closed neatly. Do you understand? I have every intention of having you, but I shall endeavor to honor you and respect you for your station. This is against my nature, however, and if pushed too far, I shall revert. Especially when it comes to sex.”

As his words drifted across the tense air, his eyes went down her body, making her feel naked even though she was fully clothed. And round with the pregnancy.

“I just want to watch you,” she heard herself say. “I want to see what you look like when you pleasure yourself. I wish to start there.”

Xcor closed his eyes and swayed. “Layla.”

“Is my name leaving your lips like that a ‘no’?”

“I shall not deny you,” he groaned, lifting his lids. “But you must be sure you want this. Think on it o’er day.”

At that, he gripped himself, closing a fist around his heavy arousal.

“Tomorrow night, then,” she heard herself say.

But she already knew the delay was going to change naught—even though she understood on some level that he was right. There was a careening quality to all this, as if she had ricocheted from Selena’s suffering to some kind of wild expression of an inner problem of her own.

“Tomorrow,” he affirmed. “And now you need to go.”

Walking over to the door, she glanced back at him. He was drawn in sharp lines, his shoulders tight and high, his forearms straining, his thighs twitching as if he were going to leap forward at any moment.

“Xcor—”

“Go,” he barked. “Get out of here. Get the hell out of here.”

Fumbling with the latch, she got the door open and burst out into the chilly night. In comparison to the cottage’s warmth, the air was harsh and icy in her nose, and her coat offered little insulation. She paid no attention to the discomfort—

Xcor shut the door behind her, and as it slammed into place with a clap, she heard the click! of a locking mechanism.

She needed to go.

She had to go.

Instead, she stayed where she was, breath leaving her open mouth in puffs that rose up until they were consumed by the cold. Looking around, there were no indications that anybody else was on the property, no sounds of people walking or talking, no lights filtering through the trees.