Lover Reborn (42 page)

Xhex took a shuddering breath. “God… damn… you have no idea how badly I need to hear that right now.”

“I shall be pleased to repeat it, if you would like?”

“I never thought… well, whatever. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you called. I’m glad you…”

As the sentence was not finished, No’One smiled, a bright, shining light striking up within her chest. “Myself as well. Mayhap, if you have… how do they say, time off? We could tarry some hours away together?”

Xhex started to grin a little. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You ever been on a motorcycle?”

“What’s that?”

“Come around to the front of the house. Let me show you.”

T
ohr came back at the end of the evening with two dirty daggers, no ammunition, and a bone bruise on his right calf that made him limp like a zombie.

Fucking tire irons. Then again, payback to that particular
lesser
had been kind of fun. Nothing like sanding the face off your enemy to lighten the mood.

Asphalt was his friend.

It had been a hard night fighting for all of them, a late one, too—both of which were good. The hours had sped by, and even though he stank like spoiled meat from all the black blood, and his new pair of leathers were going to have to be stitched up on one side, he felt better than he had when he’d headed out.

Fighting and fucking, as Rhage had always said. Those were the two best mood stabilizers there were.

Too bad the fact that he was more chilled out didn’t mean anything was different. The same shit was waiting for him as he came home.

Stepping through the vestibule, he began the disarming ritual, undoing his chest holster, his shoulder holster, his gun belt. The scent of freshly
cooked lamb with rosemary filled the foyer, and a quick glance into the dining room showed that the
doggen
had set everything up properly, the silver gleaming, the crystal sparkling, people already beginning to gather for Last Meal.

No’One wasn’t among them as was usually the case.

Jogging up the stairs, he couldn’t deny the arousal that got harder and harder the higher he went. But the erection didn’t exactly make him happy.

You know as well as I do how much you haven’t done.

When he got to his door, he gripped the knob and closed his eyes. Then, forcing the panels wide, he said, “No’One?”

Her shift would have been over for about an hour—Fritz had insisted that she have some time to ready herself for dining, something she had fought initially, but seemed to have been taking advantage of lately, as the Jacuzzi was always damp at its drain when he came back after fighting.

He hoped he wouldn’t catch her in the tub. He wanted a shower, and didn’t know how to handle the two of them in the bathroom naked together.

You know as well as I do—

“Shut. Up.” He dropped his weapons and started to shuck his muscle shirt and his shitkickers. “No’One? You here?”

Frowning, he leaned into the bathroom, and found a whole lot of nobody.

No fragrance in the air. No draining water in the tub. No towels out of place.

Weird.

With a scattered head, he went back out into the corridor, hit the grand staircase and put the hidden door underneath it to good use. As he went through the underground tunnel, he wondered if she was in the pool.

He hoped she wasn’t. His cock prayed she was.

For godsakes, he didn’t know what the fuck to think anymore.

Except… she wasn’t floating, naked or otherwise, on its surface. And she wasn’t where the washers and dryers were. Not in the weight room or the locker room or the gym restacking towels. Not in the clinic area putting fresh scrubs in the shelving, either.

She wasn’t… there.

His trip back to the mansion took half the time of the jog out, and when he got to the kitchen, all he found was a shitload of
doggen
doing the dinner scurry.

Stretching his senses out for the first time, he discovered… she wasn’t anywhere in the mansion.

A striking panic went through him, making his head hum—

No, wait, that was the sound of a… motorcycle?

The deep, rumbling growl made no sense. Unless Xhex had come home for some reason—which was good news for John—

No’One was out in front of the house. Right now.

Tracking his blood in her veins, he ran out across the foyer, shot through the vestibule, and… stopped dead on the top step of the entrance.

Xhex was on her Ducati, her black leather form fitting perfectly with the bike. And right behind her? No’One was sharing the seat, her hood off, her hair a frizzy mess, her smile as bright as the sun.

The expression changed as she saw him, tightening up.

“Hey,” he said, feeling his heart rate start to return to normal.

Behind him, he sensed someone else come out of the vestibule. John.

Xhex glanced at her mate and nodded, but did not cut the engine. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “You okay there, Mom?”

“Yes, indeed.” No’One dismounted awkwardly, her robe resettling down at her feet as if it were relieved to have the joyride over with. “I shall see you tomorrow night?”

“Yup. I’ll pick you up at three.”

“Perfect.”

The two females shared a smile that was so easy, he nearly teared the fuck up: Some kind of something had been reached between them… and if he couldn’t have his Wellsie and son back… yeah, he would want No’One to find her true family.

Looked like a step in the right direction had been taken.

As No’One walked up the steps, John traded places with her, going down to the bike. Tohr wanted to ask her where they’d gone, what she’d done, what had been said. But he reminded himself that sleeping arrangements notwithstanding, he didn’t have a right to any of that.

Which told him exactly how far they hadn’t come, didn’t it.

“You have fun?” he said as he backed up and held the door open for her.

“Yes, I did.” She gathered the hem of her robe and limped into the vestibule. “Xhex took me for a motorcycle ride—or is it motorbike?”

“Either one works.” Death trap. Donor cycle. Whatevs. “Next time, you wear a helmet, though.”

“Helmet? As in an equestrian one?”

“Not exactly. We’re talking about something a little sturdier than velvet with a chin strap. I’ll get you one.”

“Oh, thank you.” She smoothed the wisps that were all over her cap of blond hair. “It was so… exhilarating. Like flying. I was scared at first, but she went slowly. Later, though, I learned to love it. We went very fast.”

Well, didn’t that make him want to shit in a bag for the rest of his life.

And for once, he found himself wishing she was afraid. That Ducati was nothing but an engine with a goddamn seat bolted to it. One bounce off the back, and that delicate skin of hers would be nothing but red paint for the road.

“Yeah… that’s great.” In his head, he started to give her a safety lecture that revolved around the fundamentals of kinetic energy and medical terms like
hematoma
and
amputation
. “You ready to eat?”

“I’m famished. All that fresh air.”

In the distance, he heard the roar of that bike taking off, and then John came in looking like death.

The kid went directly to the billiards room, and ten to one, he wasn’t after a handful of honey-roasted—but there would be no talking with him. He’d made that pretty damn clear at the beginning of the night.

“Come on,” Tohr said. “Let’s go sit down.”

The usual din of conversation around the table quieted as they came through the arches, but he was too focused on the female walking ahead of him to care. The idea that she’d been out in the world on her own, roaring along in the night with Xhex, made her seem… different.

The No’One he knew would never have done something like that.

And, shit… for some reason, his body juiced at the thought of her in clothes other than that robe of hers, straddling that bike, her hair free from that braid and trailing into the night.

What would she look like in jeans? The good kind… the kind that hugged a female’s ass, and made a male want to do some riding of the non-cycle variety.

Abruptly, he pictured her naked and up against the wall, her legs spread, her hair unbraided, her hands cupping her breasts. Like a good boy, he was on his knees, his mouth on her sex, his tongue licking at that place he had learned so much about with his fingers.

He was sucking on her. Feeling her against his face as she arched up and got tight—

The growl that came out of him was loud enough to echo in the silent room. Loud enough to bring No’One’s surprised face around over her shoulder. Loud enough to make him seem like a total ass.

To cover his tracks, he made elaborate work out of pulling her chair from the table. Like the shit was brain surgery.

As No’One sat down, her own arousal drifted up into his nose, and he nearly had to strangle himself to keep another growl from vibrating up out of his chest.

Parking it in his own seat, his erection got pinched big-time behind his fly, and that was just fine. Maybe the blood supply would get cut off and the bitch would deflate—except… well, going on the cock-ring theory, the opposite would likely be true.

Fantastic.

He picked up his napkin, snapped it free of its elaborate fold, and—

Everyone was looking at him and No’One. The Brotherhood. Their
shellans
. Even the
doggen
who had yet to start serving.

“What,” he muttered, as he laid the damask across his lap.

Annnnd that was when he realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And No’One hadn’t put up her hood.

Hard to know who was getting more attention. Probably her, as most folks hadn’t seen her without her face covered—

Before he knew it, his upper lip curled off his elongated fangs, and he met each one of the males in the eye, hissing at them low and nasty. In spite of the fact that they were all happily mated. And his brothers. And he had no right to be territorial.

Lot of brows went up. A couple of folks asked for another shot of whatever they were drinking. Someone started whistling casually.

As No’One quickly put her hood back into place, awkward conversations about the weather and sports sprouted.

Tohr just rubbed his temples. Hard to know what was giving him his headache.

There was so much to choose from.

In the end, the meal passed by without further incident. Then again, short of a food fight or a fire in the kitchen, it was hard to imagine what could have been a worthy second act to his playing rattlesnake at the Brotherhood.

When things broke up, he and No’One beat feet out of the dining room—but not for the same reason, evidently.

“I have to go to work now,” she said as they came up to the staircase. “I was gone all evening.”

“You can catch up at nightfall.”

“That wouldn’t be right.”

As he found himself on the verge of telling her she should go to bed instead, he realized that in the last few months, No’One had spent time only with him: Yeah, sure, she had worked, but she did that alone, and at meals she stayed quiet.

Come to think of it, when they were upstairs, they were either hitting it or asleep. So she didn’t really interact with him, either.

“Where did you and Xhex go?”

“All over. Down to the river. Into town.”

He closed his eyes briefly at the “into town” bit. And then had to wonder why he had never taken her anywhere. Whenever he was off rotation, he was down in the gym or reading in bed, waiting for her to be done. It had never dawned on him to do anything with her out in the world.

That’s because you’ve been hiding her as best you can
, his conscience pointed out.

Whatever. She was always working—

“Hey, wait a minute, why don’t you get any evenings off?” he demanded with a frown as he did the math. Shit, what the hell was that butler doing, working this female to the bone—

“Oh, I do, but I never take them. I don’t like to simply sit around.”

Tohr rubbed an eyebrow with his thumb.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured, “I’ll go down to the training center and get started now.”

“When will you be finished.”

“Probably about four in the afternoon.”

“Okay.” As she turned away, he put a hand on her forearm. “Ah, listen, if you go into the locker room during daylight hours, always knock and announce yourself, ’kay?”

The last thing anyone needed was her getting a gander at one of his naked brothers.

“Oh, of course. I always do.”

As she disappeared around the corner, he watched her go, her limping form carrying an innate dignity that he abruptly felt he hadn’t been honoring.

“We have a date, remember?”

Glancing to the right, he shook his head at Lassiter. “Not in the mood.”

“Tough shit. Come on—I’ve got it all set up.”

“Look, no offense, but I’m not good company now—”

“When are you ever?”

“I really don’t—”

“Blah, blah, blah. Shut the fuck up and get your ass in gear.”

As the angel grabbed hold and pulled, Tohr gave up the fight and allowed himself to be dragged up the staircase and down the hall of statues—and out the other side. They went past his room, past the boys’ rooms, past Z and Bella and Nalla’s suite. Out into the staff quarters. Over to the entrance to the movie theater.

Tohr stopped dead. “If this is another
Beaches
marathon, I’m going to Bette your ass until you can’t sit down.”

“Aw, look at you! Trying to be finny.”

“Seriously, if you have any compassion in you at all, you’ll let me go to bed—”

“I have peanut M&M’s up there.”

“Not my style.”

“Raisinets.”

“Feh.”

“Sam Adams.”

Tohr narrowed his eyes. “Cold?”

“Downright icy.”

Tohr crossed his arms over his chest and told himself he was not pouting like a five-year-old. “I want Milk Duds.”

“Got ’em. And popcorn.”

With a curse, Tohr yanked open the door and ascended into the dimly lit red cave. The angel made everything seamless once they got up there: Deep-dish ass palaces engaged. Sam Adams with backups on the floor in a bucket with ice. An embarrassing caloric display with, yup, a yellow box of Milk Duds. And the damn popcorn.