Lover Reborn (17 page)

It was the very best that life had to offer anyone: a person to love and be loved by, with whom you carved meaning in the oak trunk of time’s perennial passing.

And then another scene.

The female was in a kitchen, a lovely, gleaming kitchen, standing before a stove. There was a pan on the heat, some meat cooking therein, and she had a spatula in her hand. She wasn’t looking downward, however. She was staring into the space afore her, her eyes unfocused as smoke began to curl up.

Tohrment appeared across the way, rushing into the doorway. He called out her name and grabbed a small towel, going over to a fixture on the ceiling and whisking the cloth back and forth with vigor as he winced as though his ears hurt.

Over at the stove, Wellesandra jumped to attention and shoved the burning pan from the red-hot coil. She began speaking, and though there was no sound associated with the pictures, it was clear she was making apologies.

After all was settled and calmed and no longer afire, Tohrment leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke for a bit. Then he went silent.

It was a long while before Wellesandra answered. In the previous pictures of their life, she had always appeared to be strong and direct… now her expression was hesitant.

When she finished her reply, her lips pursed together and her eyes locked on her mate.

Tohrment’s arms gradually unfolded until they hung limp by his sides, and his mouth grew lax as well, his jaw unlatching to fall open. His eyes blinked repeatedly, open and shut, open and shut, open and shut.…

When he finally moved, it was with the grace of someone who had broken every bone in his body: He lurched across the distance that separated them and fell to his knees before his
shellan
. Reaching up with shaking hands, he touched her lower belly as tears watered his eyes.

He didn’t say a word. Just gathered his mate to him, his big, strong arms enveloping her waist, his wet cheek coming to rest on her womb.

Above him, Wellesandra started to smile… beam, really.

Down below her happiness, however, Tohr’s face was cast in lines of terror. As if he knew, even then, that the pregnancy she rejoiced in was doom for all three of them—

“I thought I’d find you on this side.”

No’One whipped around, the water in the bowl splashing out onto her robe, the image ruined.

Tohrment stood in the doorway sure as if her invasion of his privacy had called him forth to protect what was rightly his. His temper had dissipated, but even in the absence of anger, his gaunt face was nothing close to what she had just seen of him.

“I’ve come to apologize,” he said.

She carefully put the bowl back, watching as the choppy surface of the water calmed down and the level slowly rose to what it had been, replenished from an unknown, unseeable reservoir.

“I figured I’d wait until I sobered up a little—”

“I’ve been watching you,” she said. “In the bowl. With your
shellan
.”

That shut him up.

Getting to her feet, No’One smoothed her robe even though it fell as it always did, in straight, shapeless folds of cloth. “I understand why you are in a foul way and quick to temper. It is in the nature of a wounded animal to strike out at even a friendly hand.”

When she looked up, he was frowning so deeply, his brows were a single line. Not exactly an opening for conversation. But it was time to clear the air between them, and as with the debridement of a festering wound, one could expect it to hurt.

The infection must be wrestled from the flesh, however.

“How long ago did she die?”

“Killed,” he said after a moment. “She was killed.”

“How long.”

“Fifteen months, twenty-six days, seven hours. I’d have to check a watch for the minutes.”

No’One walked over to the windows and looked out over the bright green grass. “How did you find out she had been taken from you?”

“My king. My brothers. They came to me… and they told me she had been shot.”

“What happened after that?”

“I screamed. I took myself somewhere, anywhere else. I cried for weeks in the wilderness alone.”

“You didn’t perform a Fade ceremony?”

“I didn’t come back for nearly a year.” He cursed and scrubbed his face. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this shit, and I can’t believe I’m answering.”

She shrugged. “It is because you were cruel to me at the pool. You feel guilty, and I feel like you owe me something. The latter makes me bold and the former loosens your lips.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “You’re very smart.”

“Not really. It is obvious.”

“What did you see in the bowls?”

“Are you sure you wish me to say?”

“All of it plays in my head on an endless loop. Not gonna be a news flash, whatever it is.”

“She told you she was pregnant in your kitchen. You fell to the floor before her—she was happy, you were not.”

As he blanched, she wished she’d shared one of the other scenes.

And then he surprised her. “It’s weird… but I knew it was bad news. Too much good fortune. She wanted one so badly. Every ten years we fought about it when she had her needing. Finally, it got to the point where she was going to leave me if I didn’t agree to let her try. It was like choosing between taking a bullet or a blade—either way, I knew… somehow I was going to lose her.”

Using the crutch, he hobbled over to a chair, pulled it out, and sat down. As he awkwardly maneuvered his injured foot around, she realized they had yet another thing in common.

She approached him slowly and unevenly and sat at the desk beside him. “I am so sorry.” When he seemed a bit surprised, she shrugged once again. “How can I not offer condolences in the face of your loss? In truth, after seeing you both together, I don’t think I shall ever forget how much you loved her.”

After a moment, he murmured hoarsely, “That makes two of us.”

As they fell silent, Tohr stared at the small, hooded figure sitting so still next to him. They were separated by about four feet, each parked at one of the scribing desks. But they seemed closer than that.

“Take your hood off for me.” As No’One hesitated, he tacked on, “You saw the best of my life. I want to see your eyes.”

Her pale hands lifted, and they shook ever so slightly as she removed what covered her face.

She didn’t look at him. Likely couldn’t.

With dispassionate focus, he measured the spectacular angles of her features. “Why do you wear that all the time.”

She took a deep breath, the robe rising and falling such that he was forced to remember she was probably still naked under it.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

As she squared her shoulders, he thought that anyone who believed this female was weak had another think coming.

“This face”—she motioned around her perfectly angled jaw and her rosy, high cheeks—“is not who I am. If people see it, they treat me with a deference that is inappropriate. Even the Chosen did so. I cover it up because if I don’t, then I am propagating a lie, and even if it grinds upon only me, that is enough.”

“You have quite a way of putting things.”

“Is the explanation not sufficient.”

“It is.” When she went to raise the thing up again, he reached out and put his hand on her arm. “If I promise to forget what you look like, will you keep it down? I can’t judge your mood as well when you’re hiding—and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly talking about the weather here.”

She kept her hand on one half of the hood, as if she couldn’t let go. And then she locked her eyes on him—so directly he recoiled.

It was the first time she’d really looked at him, he realized. Ever.

Speaking with likewise candor, she said, “Just so that you and I are utterly clear with each other, I have no interest in any male. I am sexually repulsed by your kind, and that includes yourself.”

He cleared his throat. Pulled at his muscle shirt. Shifted in the chair.

Then he took a slow, relieved breath.

No’One continued, “If I have offended you—”

“No, not at all. I know it’s not personal.”

“It truly is not.”

“To be honest, it makes things… easier. Because I feel the same way.”

At this, she actually smiled a little. “Two peas in a pod are we, indeed.”

They were quiet for a time. Until he said abruptly, “I’m still in love with my
shellan
.”

“Why wouldn’t you be. She was lovely.”

He felt himself smile for the first time in… so long. “It wasn’t just her looks. It was everything about her.”

“I could tell by the way you stared at her. You were enthralled.”

He picked up one of the quills and checked out the fine, sharp cut of its tip. “God… I was nervous that night we were mated. I wanted her so badly—and I couldn’t believe she was going to be mine.”

“Was it arranged?”

“Yeah, by my
mahmen
. My father didn’t care about that kind of thing—or for me, for that matter. But my mother took care of things the best she could—and she was smart. She knew if I got a good female, I’d be set for life. Or at least… that was the plan.”

“Is your
mahmen
alive?”

“No, and I’m glad she isn’t. She wouldn’t have… liked any of this.”

“And your father?”

“He’s dead, too. He disowned me until he got close to the grave. About six months before he died, he called me to him—and I wouldn’t have gone but for Wellsie. She made me, and she was right. He formally reclaimed me on his deathbed. I’m not sure why it was so important to him, but there you go.”

“What about Darius? I have not seen him around—”

“He was killed by the enemy. Just before Wellsie was.” As she gasped and put her hand to her mouth, he nodded. “It’s been hell, really.”

“You are all alone,” she said in a small voice.

“I have my brothers.”

“Do you let them in.”

With a short laugh, he shook his head. “You are hell’s bells with the rhetoricals, you know that?”

“I am sorry, I—”

“No, don’t apologize.” He put the quill back in its holder. “I like talking to you.”

As he heard the surprise in his own voice, he laughed harshly. “Man, I’m just making all kinds of charm points with you tonight, aren’t I.” Slapping his thighs to end their conversation, he got to his feet with the help of the crutch. “Listen, I also came here to do a little research. Do you know where the library is? Damned if I can find it.”

“Yes, of course.” As she stood, she swept that hood up over her head again. “I shall take you there.”

While she went past him, he frowned. “You’re limping worse than usual. Did you get hurt?”

“No. When I move around too much, it aches.”

“We could take care of that down below—Manello is—”

“Thank you, but no.”

Tohr threw out a hand and stopped her before she went out the door. “The hood. Leave it down, please.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “There’s no one here but us. You’re safe.”

A
s John Matthew stood on the shores of the Hudson River about fifteen minutes north of downtown Caldwell, he felt like he was a thousand miles away from everyone.

At his back, he had the prevailing breeze as well as a small hunting cabin that, if you didn’t know what it was, you’d write off as something not worth the effort to knock over. The place was a fortress, however, with steel-reinforced walls, an impenetrable roof, bulletproof windows… and enough firepower in its garage to make half the population of the city see God up close and personal.

He had assumed Xhex would come here. Been so convinced, he hadn’t bothered to track her.

But she wasn’t—

A flare of headlights off to the right brought his head around. A car was coming down the lane, slowly approaching the cabin.

John frowned as he got an earful of the engine: low, deep, a mean growl.

That was no Hyundai or Honda. Couldn’t be a Harley, too smooth.

Whatever the hell it was meandered by and kept going, all the way to
the tip of the point where that big-ass house had been put up. A few moments later, lights began to go on inside the mansion, illumination pouring out of its curved porches and stacked, three-story straightaways.

Damn thing looked like a spaceship about to take off.

Not his biz. And it was time to go, anyway.

With a mute curse, he scattered his molecules and zeroed in on the armpit of Caldie, that stretch of bars, strip clubs, and tattoo places down around Trade Street.

The Iron Mask had been Rehvenge’s second club, a dance/sex/drug facility created to cater to a Goth demographic unserviced by his first establishment, ZeroSum—which had had more of a Eurotrash kind of vibe.

There was a line to get in—always was—but the two bouncers, Big Rob and Silent Tom, recognized him and let him in ahead of everyone else.

Velvet drapes, deep-seated couches, black lights… women in black leather with white makeup and hair extensions down to their asses… men clustered in groups, strategizing on how to get laid… moody music with lyrics that made you think fondly of eating a bullet.

But maybe that was just his mood.

And she was here. He could sense his blood in Xhex, and he headed through the crowd, zeroing in on the signal.

As he got to the unmarked door that led into the staff-only part of the club, Trez stepped out of the shadows. Natch.

“What’s doing,” the Shadow said, offering his palm.

The two clapped a grip, knocked shoulders, and slapped each other’s backs.

“You here to talk to her?” When John nodded, the guy opened the door. “I gave her the office beside the locker room next to me. Go on back—she’s just checking her staff reports—”

The Shadow stopped abruptly, but he’d said enough.

Jesus Christ…

“Ah, yeah, she’s back there,” the guy muttered, like he was sooo staying out of this one.

John ducked in and strode down the corridor. When he got to a closed door, he didn’t see a sign with her name on it, but wondered how long that would last.

And he knocked, even though she had to know he was here.