Lover At Last(87)
“Qhuinn. Stop,” Layla called out. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“I am. And clearly.” He didn’t wait for any more arguing. “You stay there.”
“Qhuinn—”
He could still hear her voice as he shut the door and took off at a run, going down the short hall and descending the stairs. With any luck, Doc Jane was still lingering over Last Meal with her hellren—the pair of them had been at the table when he’d gone up to check on Layla.
As he hit the foyer, his Nikes squeaked on the mosaic floor as he made for the archway into the dining room.
Seeing the physician right where she’d been was a stroke of luck, and his first instinct was to bark out her name. Except then he realized there were a number of Brothers at the table, eating dessert.
Shit. It was easy for him to say that he’d deal with the fallout if what they’d done got wide airtime. But Layla? As a sacred Chosen, she had a lot more to lose than he did. Phury was a pretty fair guy, so there was a good chance he would be cool with it. The rest of society?
He’d been there/done that when it came to being shut out, and he did not want that for her.
Qhuinn rushed around to where V and Jane were eased back and relaxed, the Brother smoking a hand-rolled, the ghostly physician smiling at her mate as he cracked a joke.
The instant the good doctor looked over at him, she sat forward.
Qhuinn dropped down and whispered into her ear.
Not even a second later, she was on her feet. “I gotta go, Vishous.”
The Brother’s diamond eyes lifted. Apparently, one look at Qhuinn’s face was all it took: he didn’t ask any questions, just nodded once.
Qhuinn and the physician hurried out together.
To Doc Jane’s infinite credit, she didn’t waste time with any how-did-this-pregnancy-happens. “How long has she been bleeding?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“How heavily?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any other symptoms? Fever? Nausea? Headaches?”
“I don’t know.”
She stopped him as they came to the grand staircase. “Go to the Pit. My bag’s on the counter by the bowl of apples.”
“Roger that.”
Qhuinn never ran so fast in his life. Out of the vestibule. Across the courtyard in the snow. Punching in the code to the Pit. Racing into V and Butch’s place.
Ordinarily, he would never have entered without knocking—hell, without a prearranged appointment time. Fuck that tonight, though—
Oh, good, that black bag was in fact by the Fujis.
Grabbing the thing, he raced out, shot back past the parked cars, and stamped his feet as he waited for Fritz to open the way into the mansion.
He nearly plowed the doggen over.
As he got up to the second floor, he bolted past the open doors to Wrath’s study and broke into the guest room Layla had been using. Closing the door, he panted on his way over to the bed, where the good doctor was sitting where he just had been.
God, Layla was white as a sheet. Then again, fear and blood loss would do that to a female.
Doc Jane was in midsentence as she took her bag from him. “I think I should start by taking your vitals—”
Boom!
As the thunderous noise rang throughout the room, Qhuinn’s first thought was to throw himself on both the females as a shield.
But it wasn’t a bomb. It was Phury throwing the door wide.
The Brother’s yellow eyes were glowing, and not in a good way, as they went from Layla to Doc Jane to Qhuinn…and back again.
“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, nostrils flaring as he clearly caught the same scent Qhuinn had. “I see the doctor going up the stairs at a dead run. Then it’s Qhuinn with her bag. And now…someone had better start talking. This goddamn minute.”
But he knew. Because he was looking at Qhuinn.
Qhuinn faced the Brother. “I got her pregnant—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. Barely got through the p-word, as a matter of fact.
The Brother all but picked him up and threw him against the wall. As his back absorbed the impact, his jaw exploded in pain—which suggested the guy had also corked him a good one. Then rough hands pinned him in place with his feet dangling about six inches from the nice Oriental rug—just as people started to pool in the doorway.
Great. An audience.
Phury shoved his face into Qhuinn’s and bared his fangs. “You did what to her?”
Qhuinn swallowed a mouthful of blood. “She went into her needing. I serviced her.”
“You don’t deserve her—”
“I know.”
Phury slammed him again. “She’s better than this—”
“I agree—”