Retribution(44)

The book that occupied the coveted spot atop the carved branches was a leather bound collection of family trees and detailed histories on every person who'd ever been a member of the Conn/Kavanagh coven. It was her parents' copy, kept safe at Caitrin and Morrigan's over the past twenty-one years; now it was home, in a room designed around it. The markings on the spine and covers were the repeated designs in the woodwork and artwork, and the stain on the shelves matched the well-maintained leather of the priceless tome.

Quin had silently watched Layla spend more than forty-five minutes poring over every word and picture in the first three pages. Then he teased her for being a bookworm while marking her spot and closing the cover.

She started to protest, but forgot what the problem was when he pulled her into a kiss and carried her to the couch, stealing her attention with no plans to let it go.

They only got around four hours of sleep, but when Layla awoke to her new library with its creator’s morning arousal pressing on her back, she had no desire to go back to dreamland, so she rolled over and helped herself to something stronger than coffee.

After a couple of refreshing doses, he reluctantly left the room to fix breakfast, and she curled up in a cashmere throw with her cellphone, set with the task of calling Travis and Phyllis.

When it came to her two non-magical friends, Layla's stomach squirmed with guilt. She wasn't calling them enough, and when she did, the conversations were one-sided and short. Obviously she couldn't go into detail about her life, and it seemed like she always had a reason to hang up within ten minutes of calling them. This time was no different. She and Quin were due on the lawn in thirty minutes, and she hadn’t showered or eaten. Sure, she could have cut her time short with Quin and called her friends sooner, but she wanted nothing more than she wanted her hero, and she’d willingly harbor guilt for the rest of her life for one minute of his.

She'd finished her conversation with Phyllis and started one with Travis when Quin walked in with coffee and doughnuts. Layla’s eyes widened on the sugary pastries, and she quickly used magic to hover the phone so she could grab a doughnut and her mug.

“My hero,” she mouthed, and Quin kissed her forehead before taking a seat across from her.

She stayed on the phone through breakfast, pausing her chewing long enough to ask a few questions, but she was careful not to ask any that might lead to a discussion about Travis visiting. He only brought it up once, and it was to tell her it might be a few weeks before he could get away.

With a full stomach and a sad goodbye, she hung up the phone, and Quin grasped her body with magic, keeping her wrapped in the blanket as he floated her onto his lap.

“How's Travis?” he asked, summoning her coffee.

“Good,” she answered, taking the mug as she cuddled into him. “Gander Creek has been dragging him down for years. Now that he sees a way out, he's even more upbeat than usual.”

“Good. Now how about you share your concerns with me?”

“You can see them, huh?”

“Always, my love, and I want to help you bear them.”

“Okay. I was wondering what Travis and Phyllis might do if… if I... you know, dropped off the face of the earth. They’d have no idea what happened to me, and it's probably better that way, but it makes me sad to think about it. They might think I abandoned them, or that I've been abducted and kept against my will. I don't want them to go through that.” She paused and looked up. “You know?”

He watched her face for a moment. Then he pulled her into a tight hug. “I do know. We’ll talk to our family and figure out a way to provide solace for your friends if… if this doesn't end right.”

“That would be nice. I hate the thought of haunting them with an unsolvable mystery. Finality is better. Closure. Even if we have to lie to give them peace.”

“Sure, love. I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for that.”

“Well can I thank you for this room? Because it's gorgeous; even more beautiful in the daytime than at night.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

“No, Quin. I love it. And I love the effort and thought you put into it. The stuff you buy me is nice, but the things in this room took you countless hours to create and you put them in a room designed just for me. I feel very spoiled.”

“Good,” he approved. “That’s how I like it.”

She took a sip of coffee then sent her mug to the table. “How long before we have to be out there?”

“About fifteen minutes. But what will they do if we’re late? Ground us to our room? I’d be okay with that.”