her knees. Her weight barely registered, his muscles accepting her easily.
As he started for the door she eased into him, laying her head on his shoulder, taking some of his shirt into her hand.
Oh... Sweet Virgin. This felt so right.
Phury carried her down the hall to the other side of the house, to the room next to his.
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John was on autopilot as he and Tohr left the training facility and walked across the parking area where they'd left the Range Rover. Their footsteps echoed up to the low concrete ceiling, bouncing through the empty space.
"I know you have to go back for the result," Tohr said as they got into the SUV. "I'll go with you that time, no matter what's happening."
Actually, John kind of wished he could take himself.
"What's the matter, son? Are you upset that I didn't take you tonight?"
John put his hand on Tohr's arm and shook his head vigorously.
"Okay, just wanted to make sure."
John looked away, wishing he'd never gone to the doctor's. Or that at least when he'd been there, he'd kept his mouth shut. Holy hell. He shouldn't have said a word about what had happened to him almost a year ago.
Trouble was, after all the questions about his health, he'd been in answering mode. So when the doctor had asked about his sexual history, he'd alluded to the thing back in January. Question. Answer. Just like all the others... sort of.
For a moment it had been a relief. He'd never gone to a doctor or anything afterward, and in the back of his mind he'd always worried that he should have. At least by coming forward, he'd figured he could get a full checkup and really be done with the attack. Instead, the doctor had started in on him about therapy and the necessity of talking about the experience.
Like he wanted to relive it? He'd spent months burying the damn thing, so no way was he digging up that rotting corpse. It had taken too much effort to put it in the ground.
"Son? What's doing?"
Like hell he was going to see some therapist. Past trauma. Screw that.
John took out his pad and wrote, Just tired.
"You sure?"
He nodded and looked at Tohr so the man would think he wasn't lying. Meanwhile he was withering in his own skin. What the hell would Tohr think if he knew what had happened? Real men did not allow that to be done to them no matter what kind of weapon was at their throats.
John wrote, Next time I want to go to Havers's alone, okay?
Tohr frowned. "Ah... that's not really smart, son. You need a guard."
Then it needs to be someone else. Not you.
John couldn't look at Tohr when he flashed the paper. There was a long silence.
Tohr's voice became very low. "Okay. That's... ah, that's fine. Maybe Butch can take you."
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John closed his eyes and exhaled. Whoever this Butch was would work for him.
Tohr started the car. "It's whatever you want, John."
John. Not son.
As they headed out, all he could think was, Dear God, please don't let Tohr ever find out.
Chapter Thirteen
As Bella hung up the phone, she had a passing thought that what was going on inside her chest was so explosive, she was going to shatter at any moment. There was just no way her brittle bones and her fragile skin could hold in the kind of emotion she was feeling.
In desperation she looked around the room, seeing the vague, blurry outlines of oil paintings and antique furniture and lamps made from Oriental vases and... Phury staring at her from a chaise longue.
She reminded herself that, like her mother, she was a lady. So she should at least pretend to have some self-control. She cleared her throat. "Thank you for staying while I made that call to my family."
"Of course."
"My mother was... greatly relieved to hear my voice."
"I can imagine."
Well, at least her mother had spoken words of relief. Her affect had been as smooth and calm as always. God...
the female was ever the still-watered pond, unshaken by earthly events no matter how grim. And all because of her devotion to the Scribe Virgin. To mahmen, everything happened for a reason... yet nothing ever seemed particularly important.
"My mother... is greatly relieved. She..." Bella stopped.
She'd already said those words, hadn't she? "Mahmen was... she really was... she was relieved."
But it would have helped if she had at least choked up. Or shown anything but the