Lover Mine(169)

Qhuinn didn't stop, just powered onward to his room. Slipping inside, he made like he was going to close the door in Blay's face.

So not having any of that, Blay thought, as he shoved himself inside. "What's up with the blood?"

"I'm not in the mood," Qhuinn muttered as he started to undress.

He discarded his leather jacket on the bureau, disarmed himself at the desk, and kicked his boots off halfway to the bathroom. His T-shirt got tossed over his shoulder and ended up on a lamp.

"Why's there blood on your hands?" Blay repeated.

"None of your business."

"What did you do." Even though he had a feeling that he knew. "What the hell did you do?"

As Qhuinn leaned into the shower to start the water, the corded muscles along his spine flexed above the waistband of his leathers.

God, that red blood was on him in other places, too--which made Blay wonder just how far the beat-down had gone.

"How's your boy?"

Blay frowned. "My boy--oh, Saxton."

"Yeah. 'Oh. Saxton.'" Steam began to rise from the glass-encased shower, the mist boiling up and then falling between them. "How's he doing?"

"I guess he's been fed by now."

Qhuinn's mismatched eyes focused somewhere behind Blay's head. "Hope he feels better."

As they faced off at each other, Blay's chest hurt so badly he had to rub it. "Did you kill him."

"Him? Who?" Qhuinn put his hands on his hips, his pecs and his pierced nipples standing out in high relief, thanks to the lights over the sinks. "I don't know no 'him.' "

"Stop bullshitting. Saxton is going to want to know."

"Protective of him, are you." There was no hostility to the words. Just an uncharacteristic resignation. "Okay, fine, I didn't kill anyone. But I gave that homophobic asshole something to think about other than the throat cancer those cigars will be giving him. I won't have my family members being disrespected." Qhuinn turned away. "And--well, fuck, I don't like you upset, believe it or not. If Saxton had been left for dead and the sun came up? Or humans had found him? You'd have never gotten over it. Couldn't not settle that score."

God, wasn't that just like the son of a bitch. Doing the wrong thing for the perfect reason. . . .

"I love you," Blay whispered so quietly that the sound of the rushing water drowned out the words.

"Listen, I need a shower," Qhuinn said. "I want to get the nasty off of me. And then I need to sleep."

"Okay. Yeah. You want me to bring you some food?"

"I'm good. Thanks."

As he started to leave, Blay glanced over his shoulder. Qhuinn was stripping his leathers off, his ass making a spectacular appearance.

With his head still cranked around, he made it out of the bathroom okay, but slammed into the desk, and had to catch the lamp from falling to the floor. Righting the thing, he peeled the shirt off the shade and, like a pathetic nancy, brought the soft cotton to his nose for an inhale.

Closing his eyes, he cradled what had been on Qhuinn's chest to his own and listened to the sound of the water falling in flips and flops as the other male washed himself.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, dangling in the purgatory of so-close-yet-so-far-away. What got him on the move again was the fear of getting caught being a sap. Carefully replacing the T-shirt to its former drape, he forced himself to go to the door.

He was about halfway there when he saw it.

On the bed.

The white sash was tangled in the sheets, just one more rumpled stretch of cloth.

As his eyes went upward, he found two head indentations on a pair of pillows that were close together. Clearly, the Chosen Layla had forgotten the tie to her robe when she'd left. Which could happen only if she'd been naked while she was here.

Blay put his hand to his heart once more, a sense of constriction making him feel as if he were underwater . . . with the surface of the ocean far, far above him.

The shower was cut off in the bathroom and a towel flapped around.

Blay walked passed the well-used bed and ducked out the door.

He was unaware of having made a conscious decision, but his feet had direction; that was obvious. Going down the hall, they stopped two rooms over and then his hand lifted of its own volition and knocked quietly. When a muffled answer sounded out, he opened the door. On the other side, the room was dark and it smelled divine . . . and as he stood in the light from the hall, his shadow reached the foot of the bed.

"Perfect timing, they just left." Saxton's husky voice was a promise of things Blay wanted. "Have you come to see how I am?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. "Then shut the door, and I'll show you."

Blay's hand tightened on the knob until his knuckles cracked.