in his other hand, and his ass grew numb...and no one came back in through the vestibule's doors.
Sitting on the bottom step of the mansion's grand staircase, he wasn't going to fulfill his promise to his mother and head home. Not tonight, at least. After the craziness of the evening before, what with the crash landing and the attendant drama, Wrath had ordered the Brotherhood and the fighters to take twenty-four off. So technically, he should have called the 'rents and told his mom to bust out the mozzarella and the meat sauce.
But there was no way he was leaving the house. Not after hearing yelling from Layla's room, and then seeing her all but carried down the grand staircase.
Naturally, Qhuinn had been with her.
John Matthew had not.
So whatever had gone down apparently trumped the ahstrux nohtrum thing, and that meant...she had to be losing the young. Only something that serious would get a pass.
As he continued to bump-on-a-log it, with nothing but worry to keep him company, naturally his mind decided to make things worse: Shit, had he really slept with Qhuinn last night?
Taking a hard drag off his Dunhill, he exhaled a curse.
Had it really happened?
God, that question had been banging around his skull from the moment he'd woken up out of a hot-as-hell dream, with an erection that seemed to think the other male was sleeping next to him.
Replaying the scenes, for the hundredth time, all he could think was...talk about a plan misfiring. After he'd turned Qhuinn down when the guy had been on his knees, he'd gone back to his room and paced around, a debate he wasn't interested in having with himself turning his brain to foie gras.
But he'd made the right decision in leaving. Really. He had.
The problem was, it hadn't stuck. As the daylight hours had worn on, all he'd thought about was the time he'd gotten caught by his father stealing a pack of cigarettes from one of the family's doggen. He'd been a young pretrans, and as a punishment, his dad had made him sit outside and smoke every one of those unfiltered Camels. He'd been horribly sick, and it had been a year or two before he'd been able to stomach even secondhand smoke.
So that had been the new plan.
He'd wanted Qhuinn so badly for so long, but it had all been a hypothetical, parceled out in fantasies in ways he could handle. Not all at once, not the full-bore, overload, wrecking-ball stuff - and he'd known damn well that in real life, Qhuinn wasn't going to hold back or be easy. The "plan" had been to have the actual experience, and learn that it was just rough sex. Or hell, find out that it wasn't even good sex.
You weren't supposed to smoke all the cigarettes in the pack...and only want more.
Jesus Christ almighty, it had been the first time reality had been better than a fantasy, the absolute best erotic experience of his life.
Afterward, however, the kindness that Qhuinn had shown had been unbearable.
In fact, as Blay recalled that tenderness, he burst up from where he'd been sitting and marched around the apple tree - as if he had somewhere to go.
At that moment doors opened. Not the vestibule ones, however.
The library.
As he glanced over his shoulder, Saxton stepped out from the room. He looked like hell, and not just because, as fast a healer as the male was, he still had some residual jaw swelling thanks to Qhuinn's attack.
Good one, Blay thought. Way to express disappointment in someone's behavior: Let them fuck the shit out of you after they tried to strangle your ex.
Soooo classy.
"How are you?" Blay asked, and not in a social way.
It was a relief as Saxton came over. Looked him in the eye. Smiled a little like he was determined to make an effort.
"I'm exhausted. I'm hungry. I'm restless."
"Would you like to eat with me?" Blay blurted. "I'm feeling exactly that way, too, and the only thing I can do anything about is the need for food."
Saxton nodded and put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "That is a stellar idea."
The pair of them ended up in the kitchen at the battered oak table, sitting side by side, facing out into the room. With a happy smile, Fritz immediately flipped into provide-sustenance mode and what do you know. Ten minutes later, the butler provided each of them with a bowl of steaming beef stew, as well as a crusty baguette to