When someone started to knock on Qhuinn’s door, he was not about to get up from bed to answer the attention-seeker. He had another hour before it was time to go to the meeting in Wrath’s study and most likely get his ass chewed—also maybe get kicked out of the Brotherhood as Tohr had been—and aside from him having managed to get himself showered and dressed, he was too much of a basket case to do anything else.
Like, you know, attempt civil discourse. Or do anything other than breathe.
The knock got louder.
As he lifted his head and bared his fangs, he opened his mouth to issue a fuck-off—
But burst to his feet instead.
Rushing over, he yanked the door wide like there were Girl Scouts with Do-si-dos order sheets on the other side.
Blay was standing there in the corridor looking so edible it was nearly illegal, his body clad in leather and weapons—which happened to be Qhuinn’s favorite outfit on the guy. Other than buck naked.
“Mind if I come in?” he said.
“Yes. I mean, no, shit, please. Yeah, come in.”
Man, if he were any smoother, he’d be a Brillo pad.
Blay shut the door and those beautiful eyes of his went over to the bassinets.
“Do you want to see them?” Qhuinn said, stepping aside, even though he wasn’t in the way.
“Yes, I do.”
Blay walked over, and although he was facing away, Qhuinn could feel the smile on the guy’s face as he greeted one and then the other.
But when he turned around again, he was all business.
Here it comes, Qhuinn thought as he went across and sat on the bed. The answer to the rest of his life. And he knew without being aware of the specific details that this was going to hurt.
Blay reached into his leather jacket. “I don’t want this.”
As he took out the documents that Saxton had prepared, Qhuinn felt his heart drop. He didn’t have much to offer aside from his own goddamn children. If Lyric and Rhamp couldn’t bring the male around, nothing would—
“I love you,” Blay said. “And I forgive you.”
For a split second, Qhuinn couldn’t decipher the syllables. And then, when they did sink in, he was sure he must have heard them incorrectly.
“I’ll say it again. I love you … and I forgive you.”
Qhuinn leaped up and crossed the distance between them faster than a match lighting. But he got strong-armed before he could kiss the guy.
“Hold on,” Blay countered. “I have some things to say.”
“Whatever it is, I agree to it all. Anything, everything, I’m in.”
“Good. Then you’ll make it right with Layla.”
Qhuinn took a step back. And another.
Blay tapped the documents in his open hand. “You heard me. I don’t need any parental rights to be legally granted. You don’t have to pull some showy bullshit like this—although I appreciate the sentiment, and honestly, it did convince me you were really serious about what you said. But you told me you would do anything, and I’m taking you as a male of your word. You’re not going to be right with me until you’re right with Layla.”
“I don’t know if I can do that, Blay.” Qhuinn put his palms up. “I’m not being an asshole here. I’m really not. It’s just … I know myself. And after she put them in danger like that, and lied for so long to cover it up? I can’t come back from that, not even for you.”
“I think you need to focus more on who Xcor is rather than on what she did.”
“I know who he is. That’s the issue.”
“Well, I just spoke with Tohr, who told me everything—”
Qhuinn threw up his hands and walked around. “Oh, come on—”
“And I really think you need to recast things.”
“I’m not going to forget what happened, Blay. I can’t.”
“No one’s asking you to do that.”
As Qhuinn paced around, he decided these conversations about that Bastard were turning things into fucking Groundhog Day. Without Bill Murray. So yes, it sucked.
“Look, I don’t want to debate you,” he said as he stopped and looked across the room at Blay.
“I don’t want that, either. And we’re not debating this because I’m not discussing it any further. You make it right with Layla, or I’m not coming back.”
“What the hell, Blay—how can you make you and me about her?”
“I’m making you and me about this family. The two of them”—he pointed to the bassinets—“and the three of us. We’re a family, but only if we stick together. Blood only means so much, and after the shit your parents pulled, you know this firsthand. If we can’t—if you can’t—forgive and love and move on, then you and I aren’t going to last, because I’m not going to sit by and pretend I’m okay with you resenting that poor daughter of yours just because she looks like her mahmen. Or waiting until I do something that you can’t get over. You challenged me to forgive you for what you did—and I have. Now I’m expecting you to do the same for Layla.”
Blay went back to the door. “I love you with everything I’ve got, and when you and Layla had those kids? You gave me a complete family. And I want my family back, the whole thing—and that includes Layla.”
“That’s my condition. And I’m going to make it stick. See you out in the field.”
As Xcor got ready to leave the ranch just before midnight, he let his shellan check the fastenings on the bulletproof vest. She was very thorough, to the point where he had a feeling if she could have strapped herself to his chest, she would have.
Capturing her hands, he kissed her fingertips one by one.
“I am a lucky male, to be cared for thusly.”
Fates, he hated her distress. Would have done anything he could have to replace it with joy—especially as he feared that only more sorrow was before her. If he lived through tonight, if the Brotherhood held true to what Wrath wanted, they were still out of road for their journey.
“I fear I can’t let you leave,” she said through a wobbling smile. “I fear … I cannot bear you to go.”
As her voice broke, he closed his eyes. “I will be back home here soon enough.”
He kissed her so that they couldn’t talk about it anymore, and as she fiercely returned his embrace, he tried to remember every detail about the way she felt against him, and how her lips tasted, and what it was to have her scent in his nose.
When he finally inched back, he stared into her pale green eyes. His favorite color, as it turned out. Who knew he had one?
And then he stepped away and didn’t look back. He didn’t dare.
Going over to the slider, he could smell her tears, but again, he did not stop on his way. There was no stopping any of this now.
The door made no sound as he pulled it open and stepped through, and he was careful not to turn around as he closed it behind himself.
Progressing outside the glow of the porch’s security lights, he went around the far corner of the garage. There was an old shed there, one that was big enough for a riding mower, and tall enough for the handles of hoes and shovels.
As he opened the flimsy door, its hinges let out a squeak of protest.
Reaching into the darkness, he retrieved his scythe and flipped it onto his back, securing it with a simple rope tie that ran across his chest. He hadn’t wanted to bring it into the house with Layla there. It had just seemed wrong.
With the knives and the guns he already had on him, he was ready for war no matter who brought it, be it lesser or Brother.
As he closed his eyes and prepared to dematerialize off to meet his males, he prayed for two things.
One, that he made it back here to see Layla one more time before he left.
And two, that Wrath had as much control as he seemed to think he did over the Brotherhood.
Funny how the two were intimately connected.