Lover At Last(75)

With a curse, he started for the second floor—and remembered he still needed to do a drive-by with Layla.

Hanging a right at the top of the stairs, he went down to the guest room the Chosen had moved into and knocked on the door softly. “Layla?”

In spite of the fact that they were going to have a young together, he didn’t feel comfortable just barging in without an invitation.

Round two with the knuckles was a little louder. So was his voice. “Layla?”

She must be sleeping.

Backing off, he went for his own room, walking past Wrath’s office with its closed doors, and then going down the hall of statues. As he went by Blay’s door, he couldn’t help but stop and stare at the damn thing.

Jesus Christ, he’d nearly killed Saxton.

Still felt like following through.

He’d always known his cousin was a slut—and he hated being right about that. What the fuck was Sax thinking? The guy had the ultimate in his bed every goddamn day, and yet somehow, some random in a bar or a club or the frickin’ Caldwell Municipal Library was better than that? Or even necessary?

Faithless son of a bitch.

As his hands cranked into fists and he entertained the idea of kicking his way into that room just to pound Saxton’s face into soup, he nearly couldn’t control the impulse.

Let him go, now.

From out of nowhere, Blay’s voice reverberated through his head once again, and sure enough, the violence was unplugged. Literally, between one moment and the next, he went from wild bull to neutral.

Weird.

Shaking his head, he walked over to his bedroom, went in, and shut the door.

After willing on the lights, he just stood there, feet glued to the floor, arms hanging like limp ropes, head lolling on the top of his spine. All about the going nowhere.

For no apparent reason, he thought of one of Fritz’s beloved Dysons, the thing rolled into a service closet, left in the dark until somebody took it out for use.

Great. He’d been reduced to the level of a vacuum cleaner.

Eventually he cursed, and ordered himself to carry on with getting undressed and going to bed. The night had been a ballbuster from the moment the sun had gone down, and the good news was that the sorry mess was finally over: Shutters were in place to keep out the sun. House was getting quiet.

Time for a REM-sleep reboot.

As he gingerly took his muscle shirt off and grunted at all the aches and pains, he realized he’d left his leather jacket and his weapons down in the clinic. Whatever. He had extras up here if he needed them during the day, and he could get his stuff brought up before First Meal.

Going for the fly of his leathers, he—

The door behind him exploded open with such force, it ricocheted off the wall—only to be caught on the rebound by the hard grip of one pissed-off motherfucker.

Blay was rip-shit as he stood in the jambs, his body trembling with such rage that even Qhuinn, who had faced off with a lot of things in his life, went whoa.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” the male barked.

Are you kidding me, Qhuinn thought. How could the guy not have recognized that foreign scent on his own lover?

“I think you need to put that to my cousin.”

As Blay marched forward, Qhuinn moved around the guy to—

Blay snatched a grab and bared his fangs with a hiss. “Running?”

In a quiet voice, Qhuinn said, “No. I’m shutting the damn door so no one else hears this.”

“I don’t give a fuck!”

Qhuinn thought of Layla down at the other end of the hall, trying to sleep. “Well, I do.”

Qhuinn disengaged and shut them in together. Then before he could turn around, he had to close his eyes and take a little TO.

“You disgust me,” Blay said.

Qhuinn hung his head.

“You need to get the fuck out of my life.” The bitterness in that familiar voice went straight into his heart. “You stay the hell out of my business!”

Qhuinn looked over his shoulder. “You don’t even care that he was with someone else?”

Blay’s mouth opened. Closed. Then those brows dropped low. “What?”

Oh. Great.

In the rush of everything, Blay had clearly not clued in to the whys.

“What did you say?” Blay repeated.

“You heard me.”

When there was no reply, no cursing, nothing thrown in terms of punches or objects, Qhuinn turned around.

After a moment, Blay crossed his arms, not around his chest, but his middle, as if he were vaguely nauseated.

Qhuinn scrubbed his face and spoke in a broken voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry….I don’t want this for you.”

Blay shook himself. “What…” Those blue eyes focused. “That’s why you attacked him?”