over there. The idea that there was a judgment against Qhuinn based on his character instead of a genetic mutation he hadn't volunteered for was a refreshing change. And hey, it wasn't that he didn't agree with the guy - at least not until about a year ago. Back before then? Hell, yeah, he'd been out of control on a lot of levels. But things had changed. He had changed.
Evidently, Blay becoming unavailable was the kind of boot in the balls he'd needed to finally grow the fuck up.
"I'm not like that anymore," he said.
"So you are in fact prepared to mate her?" When he didn't reply, Phury shrugged. "And there you go. Bottom line - I'm responsible for her, legally and morally. I may not be behaving like the Primale in some respects, but the rest of the job description I take pretty goddamn seriously. The idea that you got her into this mess makes me sick to my stomach, and I find it very hard to believe that she didn't do this to please you - you said you both wanted a young? Are you sure that it wasn't just you, and she did it because she wanted to make you happy? That's very much her way."
This was all presented as a rhetorical. And it wasn't like Qhuinn could criticize the logic, even if it happened to be wrong. But as he dragged a hand through his hair, the fact that Layla was the one who had come to him was something he kept to himself. If Phury wanted to think it was all his fault, that was fine - he'd carry that load. Anything to take the pressure and attention off Layla.
Phury stared across the seats. "It wasn't right, Qhuinn. That's not what a real male does. And now look at the situation she's in. You did this to her. You put her in the backseat of this car, and that's just wrong."
Qhuinn squeezed his eyes shut. Well, wasn't that going to be banging around the inside of his head for the next hundred years. Give or take.
As they started over the bridge and left the twinkling lights of downtown behind, he kept his godforsaken yap shut, and Phury fell silent as well.
Then again, the Brother had said it all, hadn't he.
Chapter Thirty-three
Assail ended up further tracking his prey from behind the wheel of his Range Rover. Much cozier this way - and it wasn't as if the woman's location was an issue now: While he'd been waiting by the Audi for her to come off his property, he'd attached a tracking device to the underbelly of her side-view mirror.
His iPhone took care of the rest.
After she'd left his neighborhood in a rush - following his deliberate dematerialization from sight just to further destabilize her - she had crossed the river and headed around to the backside of the city, where the houses were small, packed in close to one another, and finished with aluminum siding.
As he trolled behind her, keeping at least two blocks between their vehicles, he regarded the brightly colored lights in the neighborhoods, the thousands of strands of twinklers strung among bushes and hanging from roof lips and boxing out windows and doorframes. But that wasn't the half of it. Manger scenes placed prominently on tiny front lawns were spotlit, and there were also fat white snowmen with red scarves and blue pants that glowed from within.
In contrast to the seasonal accoutrements, he was willing to bet the Virgin Mary statues were permanent.
When her vehicle stopped and stayed that way, he closed in, parking four houses down and killing his lights. She didn't get out of the car right away, and when she finally did, she wasn't wearing the parka and tight ski pants she'd had on whilst spying on him. Instead, she had changed into a thick red sweater and a pair of jeans.
She'd let her hair down.
And the heavy, brunette weight reached below her shoulders, curling at the ends.
He growled in the darkness.
With quick, easy strides, she surmounted the four shallow concrete steps leading up to the modest entrance of the home. Propping open the screen door with its curlicue metalwork, she buttressed the thing with her hip, let herself in with a key, and closed things back up.
As a light came on downstairs, he watched her shape walk through the front room, the thin privacy drapes giving him only a sense of her movement, not any kind of clear