feeling better.”
“I think you need to go talk to him.”
Something in the Queen’s voice really wasn’t right. “Is there something wrong?”
The female focused on her infant, smoothing his dark hair. “I just think you need to go be with him.”
“What happened?” As Beth merely repeated some version of what she’d already said, Mary frowned. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Beth’s eyes finally swung over and held. “He just seems … upset. And I think he needs you. That’s it.”
“Okay. All right. Thanks.”
Mary crossed the mosaic floor and took the stairs at a jog. When she got to their bedroom, she opened the door—and was hit with a blast of freezing cold air.
“Rhage?” Putting her arms around herself, she shivered. “Rhage? Why are the windows open?”
Trying not to become alarmed, she went across and closed the sash on the left of their enormous bed. Then she went over and shut the other one. “Rhage?”
“In here.”
Thank God, at least he was answering.
Tracking his voice, she went to the bathroom—and found him sitting in the middle of the marble expanse, knees up to his chest, arms linked around his calves, head down and tilted away from her. He was dressed in sweats and as big as ever, but everything about him seemed to have shrunk.
“Rhage!” She rushed across over and crouched beside him. “What’s wrong? Do you need Doc Jane?”
“No.”
With a curse, she stroked back his hair. “Are you in pain?”
When he didn’t answer her or look up, she moved around so that she could see his face. His lids were low and his eyes were unfocused.
He looked as if he had received very bad news.
“Is someone hurt?” One of the Brothers? Layla? Except Beth would have told her that, right? “Rhage, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
Lifting his head, he rubbed his face and seemed to realize for the first time she was there. “Hey. I thought you were at work?”
“I came home.” And for good reason. What if she had stayed there and he’d been—jeez, Marissa had been so right. “Rhage, what’s going on—wait, did someone hit you?”
His jaw seemed swollen, and there were black and blue marks that showed even through his tanned skin.
“Rhage,” she said with more force. “What the hell happened to you? Who punched you?”
“Vishous. Twice—well, once on each side.”
Recoiling, she cursed. “Dear God, why?”
His eyes traced her features and then he reached up with his fingertips, touching her gently. “Don’t be mad. I deserved it—and he made my sight come back sooner than usual.”
“You’re still not answering my question.” She tried to keep her voice even. “Did you two get in an argument?”
Rhage brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “I love the way you kiss me.”
“What did you fight about?”
“And I love your body.” His hands went down to her shoulders and moved to rest on her collarbones. “You’re so beautiful, Mary.”
“Look, I appreciate the compliments, but I need to know what’s going on,” she said, putting her palms over his. “You’re clearly upset about something.”
“Will you let me kiss you?”
As he stared at her, he seemed desperate in a way she didn’t understand. And it was because of the pain that she sensed in him that Mary leaned in.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Always.”
Rhage tilted his head to the side, and contrary to his usual passion, his lips were soft against her own, brushing, lingering. As her pulse quickened, she almost wished it didn’t—she didn’t want to be distracted with sex … except as he continued to stroke against her mouth, all the chaos in her brain rerouted to an electric feeling of anticipation, his flaring scent, his beautiful body, his male power crowding out everything that worried her.
“My Mary,” he groaned as he licked his way into her. “Every time with you … it’s new. It’s never the same and always better than the last kiss … the last touch.”
His hands drifted downward so that she felt the weight of them over her breasts. And then with a slow draw, he peeled the jacket away, sweeping it off her arms, making her feel her silk shirt and her lacy bra and all her skin beneath her clothes with aching clarity.
Except some part of her spoke up. Her conscience, maybe? Because she sure as hell felt as though she had let him down by being gone when he needed her.
“Why were the windows open?” she asked again.
But it was as if he didn’t even hear her.
“I love…” His voice caught and he had to clear his