The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,201

the partial truth provided her more credibility.

“Such a sacrifice,” he murmured.

He, too, gave nothing away.

There was a long, long silence—filled by the pounding of her heart.

“Leave this unholy quest behind,” she said. “Please.”

“And what of your previous offer. Does that still stand.”

She swallowed hard. On so many levels, she couldn’t imagine having sex with him. He was an enemy sure as the Lessening Society was—and there was, in fact, a side to him that was monstrous. Moreover, she had never imagined bartering her body for something.

And she was not naive. Yes, she had felt an attraction to him when he had come to her and found her in that car. But this was a deal of business-like proportions.

Layla kicked her chin up. “Yes. It does.”

“And if I agreed to your terms, would I have to wait for the birth of the young? Or could I take you immediately.”

At that, the scenting upon the air changed, a dark spice flaring up and overtaking the stench that had made her ill.

Her hands went to her womb, a sudden terror seizing her. What if she endangered the young growing within her? Except the other Chosen had continued relations with the previous Primale, hadn’t they. To no ill effect.

“You may have me whenever you wish,” she said thinly.

“What if I wanted it here, and now. In the cold. Standing up, fully clothed.”

Her heart thundered, her chest growing tight as she recognized his arousal—and feared it. Still, she held her ground, staying in touch with the fact that she had something he wanted, and with that reality, there was a chance Wrath and Beth and any young they might have could be safe.

“I would do as you asked,” she heard herself say.

“All this for your King.”

“Yes. For him.”

Xcor smiled, but it was without warmth or humor. “I shall consider your terms. See me here on the morrow, midnight—and I shall give you mine answer.”

“I thought that was why you called me here tonight?”

“I have changed my mind.”

She expected him to dematerialize. Instead, he gave her his back and walked down the way he had come up, his heavy strides creating distance between them.

Closing her eyes, she—

“What did you say to him?” a male voice demanded from behind her.

FIFTY-NINE

Trez decided enough with the bullshit.

As he dematerialized back up to Rehv’s great camp, he was ready to come clean, lay down the talk, set things straight with his Chosen. He and Selena had been circling each other for long enough, and now that he had some breathing room—for however long it lasted—he needed to make the situation with that female his priority.

Along with s’Ex’s appetites, of course.

Fuck. Apparently that executioner had used the girls so hard that they’d been unable to work tonight. He’d gotten texts from all three of them—and the good news was at least they didn’t seem to regret a damn thing: Each one of them asked if they could see the executioner again.

At this rate, they’d be paying him to see that son of a bitch.

Hell, they hadn’t even brought up the money he’d agreed to pay them for their efforts.

Reassuming form in his usual spot on the side lawn, he was relieved to see a light on in that back bedroom of hers—and nowhere else. Thank God. Entering the house through the kitchen’s rear entrance, he didn’t call her name, didn’t make a sound. Instead, he ghosted through the empty house, circling to the base of the stairs, ascending in a way that none of the steps creaked.

At the top landing, he went to the left, and when he got to the partially closed door, he could feel his chest grow tight.

“Selena…?”

Her scent was in the air; he knew she was in there.

“Selena?” He pushed the door a little wider, and that was when he heard the sound of running water.

He had to duck his head under the low transom to enter, and as he went to the left again, he caught the humidity in the air, and the warmth—

Oh … man.

He found her in the tub. Head back on a towel, body stretched out in a deep pool of clear water, hands resting on the sides of the old-fashioned porcelain bath.

“I could have gotten up,” she said without bothering to open her eyes. “But I wanted you to see me naked.”

Trez cleared his throat with a cough—which was what you did when someone hit you in the solar plexus. “Ah … can we talk?”

“I think we have.” Her lids lifted and