And then some.
Where would she go? he signed.
After Qhuinn translated, Rehv nodded. "She's got a hunting cabin about fifteen miles north of here. On the Hudson River. I'm thinking that's where she is. She'd have access to a phone there and it's safe. I'm going up at nightfall alone. Unless you join me."
No one seemed surprised by the exchange . . . but then John realized his secret had to be out. After the way he'd behaved up in that bedroom at the brownstone--to say nothing of how he'd torn into that lesser, they all knew how he felt about Xhex.
That was the reason the group had come. They were recognizing his status, paying it due. The rights and boundaries of bonded males were respected when it came to their females.
John glanced at Qhuinn and signed, Tell him I'll go.
After his boy translated, Rehv nodded and then turned to Wrath. "I go with him and him alone. He can't bring Qhuinn. We're going to have enough trouble with her if the pair of us show up unannounced."
Wrath frowned. "Damn it, Rehv--"
"She's a flight risk. I've been through this once before with her. Anyone else shows, she's going to bolt and she's not going to call again. Besides, John here . . . he'll follow me anyway, won't you, son. You'll ditch Qhuinn and follow me anyway."
John didn't hesitate to nod.
As Qhuinn cursed like a motherfucker, Wrath shook his head. "Why in the hell I gave you him as an ahstrux . . ."
There was a period of tense silence, during which the king measured both John and Rehv. Then he said, "Oh, for fuck's sake, fine--I'll let you go without your guard this one time, but you do not engage the enemy. You go to that cabin, and only there, and then you come back and get Qhuinn before you head out into the field. We clear?"
John nodded and turned away to hit the bathroom.
"Ten minutes," Rehv said. "You got ten minutes and we're driving out."
John was ready in four and downstairs pacing the foyer in six. He was fully weaponized, as was protocol, and covered in protective leather. More to the point, he was alive to the point of mania, his blood humming at a tornadic pitch.
As he paced, he felt eyes on him. From the billiard room. From the dining room. From up above on the second floor's balcony. Silent mouths, but eyes that missed nothing.
The Brotherhood and the other members of the house were clearly reeling from the Xhex connection and he supposed he could understand. Surprise! He'd bonded with a symphath.
But you couldn't help who you fell in love with--or change the feelings of someone who didn't love you back.
God, not that that part mattered. She was alive!
Rehvenge came down the grand stairs, his red cane hitting the carpeted steps every time his right foot came forward. He was dressed not for war, but for warmth, his floor-length mink skimming the tops of his wingtips and the cuffs of his elegant black suit.
As he came up to John, he just nodded and opened the way into the vestibule. Together, they stepped through and penetrated the cool night.
The air smelled like clean, unfrozen earth.
The perfume of spring. The very scent of hope and rebirth.
Walking over to the Bentley, John drew the fragrance into his lungs and held it there as he told himself that Xhex was doing the very same thing on this very same night.
And not because she was buried underground.
Tears pricked his eyes as gratitude washed through every vein he had, pumped around by a singing heart.
He couldn't believe he was going to get to see her . . . God, to see her once again. To look into her gunmetal eyes. To . . .
Shit, it was going to be hard not to throw his arms around her and hold her until tomorrow morning. Or maybe next week.
When they got into the car, Rehv started the engine, but didn't put it in drive. He just stared out through the windshield at the cobblestone drive ahead.
In a quiet voice, he said, "How long's this been going on for you? With her."
John took out a small pad he'd brought with him and wrote: Since the moment I first met her.
After Rehv read the scribble, he frowned. "She feel the same way?"
John did not drop his eyes as he shook his head. No sense hiding shit. Not with a symphath.
Rehv nodded once. "That's so like her. Goddamn it . . . okay, let's do this."
With a roar, they were off into the night.
TWENTY
Hope was a treacherous emotion.
It was two evenings hence when Darius finally walked into the home of the abducted female's family, and as the grand door opened to both himself and Tohrment, they were met by a doggen whose eyes were filled with the tragedy of hope. Verily, the butler's expression was of such high regard, it was clear he felt he was ushering into his master's house saviors, rather than mortals.
Only time and the vagaries of fortune would bear out whether his faith was well- or misplaced.