Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) - J.R. Ward Page 0,134

fucking exhausted and nauseous. Losing weight. I just thought it was … well, now I know what it is.”

“I’m so sorry.” She stroked his arm. “I don’t … it’s just what you said. We’ll handle it together, okay? We can handle it together.”

The silence became so loud in the room, it felt like a scream. Or maybe that was the sound in her head, the howling pain at the unfairness of it all supersonic in its volume.

To have met the love of her life, who knew the impossible truth about her and still accepted her … only to lose him before they began? Come on, destiny.

“I need to know more,” he said finally. “I want to know what kind and … everything. Maybe we’ll get a miracle. Or good news or …”

“That’s right.” Lydia nodded and all but crawled onto his chest. “That’s what we’re going to hope for. That’s what I’m going to pray for. And you’re going to do the same.”

She reached up to the nape of her neck. “Here. Take my grandfather’s St. Christopher medal. You’re going to wear it.”

When he struggled to lift his head, she helped him, and the delicate gold chain barely fit around his neck. But as he relaxed back against the pillows, she arranged what her grandfather had given her.

“He would approve of you having it,” she said. “He was the one who guided me to you out in the woods. He appeared before me … and he took me to you to save you.”

“And now we’re here,” Daniel mumbled in a dull voice.

“We just need to pray for good news. And a path forward.”

BACK IN CALDWELL, at the Brotherhood’s mansion, Xhex was chilling on one of the sofas in the billiards room, watching John Matthew, Qhuinn, V, and Butch squabble over who was playing in the first twosome at everybody’s favorite pool table. Even though there were a couple of others, the center one was, like, some kind of good luck talisman or some shit.

She didn’t know. She didn’t play games with balls.

Okay, not those kind of balls.

When John Matthew looked over and wagged his brows, it was clear he and Qhuinn were going to go at it first. No doubt, the winner of the match would play the next person in line, and so on and so on. Until dawn came and Fritz put on a massive Last Meal with enough pieces of cooked meat to feed a den of lions.

Natch.

Meanwhile, all around the house, other people were talking. Laughing. Relaxing.

It was rare that everyone had a night off at the same time, but Wrath had started the tradition a couple of months ago, and it seemed to be sticking. And as this month’s free time happened to hit on a Sunday, Xhex didn’t have to go in to any of the clubs.

So here she was. On the couch. Totally determined not to think about everything she’d been ignoring—

A glass of grapefruit juice appeared in front of her and she looked up at Rehvenge with a jump. Accepting the vitamin C, she said, “How the hell did you get Lassiter to let you use his juicer thing?”

The king of the symphaths sat down beside her with his own ginger ale. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Spoken like a true member of the Colony.”

“Come now, is that any way to say thank you.”

She toasted him. “Thank you.”

Underneath the folds of his full-length mink coat, which he was wearing even though the room was a balmy seventy degrees, Rehv crossed his legs at the knees and made sure the two halves covered his lower body completely—which was kind of a pity. He was wearing a perfectly cut dark gray suit that would have been appreciated by Butch, the other clotheshorse in the room.

“Speaking of symphaths,” Rehv drawled, “do you know what’s really annoying about them?”

Glancing over at him, she met his amethyst eyes. He’d recently had the sides of his Mohawk reshaved by V, and the top had been trimmed as well, the stand-up strip only about two inches high. Lounging back on the leather sofa like he was, he looked like a dangerous animal, even in his at-ease pose.

“You think I’ve forgotten?” She sipped more of the juice, the tart sweetness waking her up. Bonus. “Or is it just because you’re king of all us sociopaths and you—”

“Symphaths see what others hide.” Those glowing eyes went to the pool table and settled on John Matthew, who was leaning over with