Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11) - J.R. Ward Page 0,64

to worry about the cold.

Blay certainly couldn’t feel it. To the point that he became paranoid….

Reaching into the warmth of his leather jacket, he found his rib cage and pinched himself as hard as he could.

Ow.

Shutting his eyes, he sent up a silent prayer that this was reality…and not the horror that might have been.

All the attention was making Qhuinn jumpy.

And it wasn’t like his little flight of fancy had been a Zen frickin’ experience. The burn in his face from all that wind, the aches in his shoulders and his back, the wobbly legs—he felt like he was still up there, still praying to nothing he believed existed, still and forever on the verge.

Of dying.

Plus he was so damn embarrassed—breaking down in front of Z like that? Come on. What a fucking pussy.

“Mind if I take a look?” Doc Jane said as she approached the crowd.

Yeah, good idea. The whole purpose of this was because Z had been injured badly enough not to be able to dematerialize.

“Qhuinn?” the female said.

“I’m sorry?” Oh, he was in the way. “Here, let me get out of the—”

“No, not Zsadist. You.”

“Huh?”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?”

The doctor turned his hands over. “See?” Sure enough, his palms were dripping red. “You just wiped your face. You have a deep cut on your head.”

“Oh. Okay.” Maybe that was why he felt so spacey? “What about Z—”

“Manny’s already in there.”

Huh. Guess he’d missed that part. “You want to look at me here?”

She laughed a little. “How about we get you back to the house—if you can walk.”

“I’ll take care of him—”

“Let me get him—”

“I’ll take him—”

“Got him—”

The chorus of volunteers was a surprise, and so were all the helping arms that appeared from out of nowhere: He was literally enveloped by thick fighting arms, and all but carried away from the site like someone surfing the crowd at a concert.

He glanced back, hoping to see Blay, praying to meet the guy’s eyes, just to connect, even though that was crazy—

But Blay was there.

That beautiful blue stare was right there, so steady and true as it met his own that he felt like breaking down all over again. And he drew strength from those eyes, just as he’d done back when they’d spent so much time together. The truth was that he wished it were Blay getting him back to the mansion, but no one said shit to the Brotherhood when they kicked in en masse like this. And besides, no doubt the guy would feel like that was too close.

Qhuinn refocused on the way ahead. Holy…shit…

The garden was utterly decimated, half of the ten-foot-high hedge next to the house cut down, all kinds of trees knocked over, bushes mowed through, the remnants of the crash landing scattered around like bomb shrapnel.

Man, there was a lot of debris that looked like aircraft parts.

Oh, check it, a steel panel.

“Hold on,” he said, pulling himself free. Bending down, he picked the sharp-edged fragment out of where it had melted into the snow. He could have sworn the thing was still warm.

“I’m really sorry,” he said to no one in particular.

The king’s voice boomed from in front of him. “For keeping my Brother alive?”

Qhuinn looked up. Wrath had come out of the library with George on one side of him and his queen on the other. The male looked as big as the mansion behind him—and just as strong: Even blind, he seemed like a superhero in those wraparound shades.

“I fucking trashed your yard,” Qhuinn muttered as he went up to the royal male. “I mean…landscaped it in a bad way.”

“It’ll give Fritz something to do in the spring. You know how much he loves to pull weeds.”

“That’s the least of your problems. I’m pretty sure you’re in backhoe territory.”

Wrath came forward, meeting him halfway across the terrace. “This is the second time, son.”

“That I’ve ruined something mechanical in the last twenty-four hours? I know, right—next thing you know, I’ll be blowing up a battleship.”

Those jet-black brows sank low. “That is not what I’m talking about.”

Okay, this had to end right now. He really hated having the attention on him.

Deliberately ignoring the king’s statement, he said, “Well, the good news, my lord, is that I’m not looking for a three-peat. So I think we’re safe from now on.”

There was a lot of grumbling in agreement.

“Can I get him to the clinic now?” Doc Jane cut in.

Wrath smiled, his fangs flashing in the moonlight. “You do that.”

Thank God…he was so done with tonight.

“Where is