It was him. All… him.
In his dream, he stared down at himself, and abruptly, strength came to him with a calmness that had everything to do with the seat of his soul… and the fact that the pathway out of his suffering—and hers—had just been illuminated by the hand of his Maker.
Finally, after all this time, all this shit, all this agony, he knew what to do.
Now, when he spoke, he did not yell. “Wellsie, I know you can hear me—you hang on. I need just a little longer from you—I’m finally ready. I’m just sorry it took me so long.”
He tarried for only a moment longer, throwing all his love in her direction as if it might keep what remained of her intact. And then he withdrew, yanking himself free with a herculean burst of will that had his body jerking out of its position on the concrete floor—
Throwing out a hand, he kept himself from landing on his face, and immediately got to his feet.
As soon as he stood, he realized that if he didn’t take a piss immediately, his bladder was going to explode and take no prisoners with it.
Striding down the ramp, he punched into the clinic and hit the first bathroom he came to. When he emerged, he didn’t stop to check in with anyone, even though he could hear voices elsewhere in the training center.
Up at the main house, he found Fritz in the kitchen. “Hey, my man, I need your help.”
The butler jumped up from the grocery list he was making. “Sire! You are alive! Oh, blessed Virgin Scribe, all and sundry have sought out—”
Shit. He’d forgotten there were implications to going off the grid.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll text everyone.” Assuming he could find his phone? Probably down in the clinic, and he wasn’t going to waste time going back there. “Listen, what I really need is for you to come with me.”
“Oh, sire, it would be my pleasure to serve you. But mayhap you should go unto the king first—all have been so worried—”
“Tell you what. You can drive and I’ll borrow your phone.” When there was a hesitation, he dropped his voice. “We’ve got to go now, Fritz. I need you.”
The call to service was precisely the motivator the butler needed. With a low bow, he said, “As you wish, sire. And mayhap I shall pack you up some refreshments?”
“Good idea. I need five minutes.”
When the butler nodded and disappeared into the pantry, Tohr rounded the base of the stairs and took the red-carpeted steps two at a time. He stopped rushing when he got to John Matthew’s door.
His knock was answered immediately, John pulling open the way with a jerk. As the kid’s face registered surprise, Tohr put his hands out in self-defense, because he knew he was going to get hollered at for disappearing again.
“I’m sorry that I—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. John threw his arms around Tohr and held him so hard, his spine cracked.
Tohr was right there with returning the favor. And as he held the only son he had, he spoke in a low, clear voice.
“John, I want you to get off rotation tonight and come with me. I need you… to come with me. Qhuinn can as well—and this is going to take all night—maybe longer.” As Tohr felt the nodding against his shoulder, he took a steadying breath. “Good, son. That’s… good. There’s no way I would do this without you.”
“How you doing?”
Layla opened her heavy eyes and looked up Qhuinn’s body to his face. Standing next to her side of the bed in his room, he was fully dressed, big and remote, awkward though not unkind.
She knew how he felt. With the intense fire of the needing having passed, those hours of straining and pounding and clawing were done and dusted, a strange footnote that appeared to be already fading in her memory like a dream. When the two of them had been gripped in the fist of the experience, it had seemed as if nothing would ever be the same, that they would be forever changed and transformed by the volcanic eruptions.
But now… the quiet return of normalcy appeared to be just as powerful, wiping the slate clean.
“I think I’m ready to get up,” she said.
He had been so good about feeding her from his vein and also bringing her food, and she had stayed on bed rest for at least twenty-fours afterward, as was the tradition up in the Sanctuary after the Primale had lain with a Chosen.
It was time to get moving, however.
“You can stay here, you know.” He went over to his closet and began to arm himself for the night. “Rest some more. Relax.”
No, she had done enough of that.
Pushing herself up on her arms, she waited to feel light-headed, and was relieved when she didn’t. If anything, she felt strong.
There was no other way to put it. Her body just felt… strong.
Shifting her legs off the side of the mattress, she put her weight on her bare soles and slowly rose up. Qhuinn came instantly to her side, but she didn’t need the help.
“I think I’ll have a shower,” she announced.
And after that? She didn’t have a clue what she was going to do.
“I want you to stay here,” Qhuinn said as if reading her mind. “You are going to stay here. With me.”
“We don’t know if I’m pregnant.”
“All the more reason to take it easy. And if you are, you’re going to keep on staying with me.”
“All right.” They were, after all, going to be in this together—assuming there was any “this” to be had.
“I’m going out to fight now, but I have my cell phone with me at all times, and I’ve left you one on that bedside table.” He held his up and pointed to the one by the alarm clock. “You call or text if you need me, clear?”
His face was dead serious, his eyes focusing on her with an intensity that gave her an idea of how accomplished he probably was in the field: Nothing and nobody was going to get in his way if she called for him.
“I promise.”
He nodded and went for the door. Before he opened the way out, he paused and seemed to be searching for words. “How will we know if you…”
“Miscarry? I’ll start cramping, and then I will bleed. I saw it happen on the Other Side a number of times.”
“Are you in any danger if you do?”
“Not that I ever saw—not this early.”
“Should you stay on bed rest?”
“After the first twenty-four hours, if it’s going to take, it does—whether I am inactive or not at this point, our die is already cast.”
“Let me know?”
“As soon as I do.”
He turned away. Appeared to stare at the face of the door for a moment. “It’s going to stick.”
Of that he was far more confident than she, but it was gratifying to learn of his faith, and his desire for what she wanted.
“I’ll be back at dawn,” he said.
“I shall be here.”
After he left, she attended to herself in the shower, passing the bar of soap over her lower belly again and again. It seemed odd to have such a potentially momentous thing occurring in her own body, and to be as yet unaware of the particulars.
They would find out soon enough, though. Most females bled within the first week if they were going to.
When she got out from beneath the spray, she toweled off and discovered that he’d thoughtfully left another of her robes upon the counter, and she drew it on, along with some underthings in the event that a termination event occurred.
In the main bedroom, she sat down on the duvet to pull on her slipper shoes, and then…
There was nothing for her to do. And the silence and stillness were rotten companions for her anxiety.
Unbidden, the image of Xcor’s face returned to her once again.
With a soft curse, she feared she would never forget the manner in which he had regarded her, his eyes staring up at her as if she were a vision he couldn’t fully comprehend, yet would be e’er grateful for having seen but once.
Unlike memories of the needing, the sensations she had felt when that male had focused upon her were as incandescent as the moment she had lived them, unfaded through the months that separated her from that meeting. Except… had she simply imagined it all? Was it possible that the recollection was strong simply because it was fantasy?