who's aptly named. He understands, for example, how an individual would feel if he were to be wrongly accused of treason. He knows that someone who would falsely implicate another with information not widely known is likely trying to shift blame for his own actions - particularly if the person talking had a...well, shall we say, an affect...that indicated not just deceit, but a certain level of scheming. As if he were paying you back for something he considered indicative of disloyalty or bad judgment."
"Who is it," Assail breathed. Even though he knew.
"Wrath is not asking you to do any kind of dirty work. In fact, if you choose not to take action, the individual will be dead within twenty-four hours. The king just feels, as I do, that your interests are not only aligned with ours, in this case, they supersede them."
Assail closed his eyes, vengeance boiling his blood in much the same manner in which the sexual instinct had just done. The end result, however, was going to be oh, so very different. "Say the name."
"Elan, son of Larex."
Assail popped his lids and bared his fangs. "You tell your king I shall take care of this with alacrity."
Rehvenge laughed darkly. "That I'll do. I promise it."
Chapter Fifty-six
Blay was antsy as he paced around his room. Although he was fully dressed for fighting, he was going nowhere. None of them were.
After the Council meeting, Tohr had ordered the Brotherhood to stay in on a just-in-case. Rehv was reaching out to the Council members, connecting outside of the mansion, getting a sense of where the glymera were. As the guy couldn't very well show up with a six-pack of Brothers on his ass - at least, not if he wanted to preserve some pretense of civility - they had to chill. But given the political climate, it was important that backup was ready in case the Reverend needed it.
Not that he went by that name anymore...
The door to his room opened wide without a knock, a hello, a hey-are-you-decent.
Qhuinn stood in between the jambs, breathing hard, like he'd run down the hall of statues.
Damn, had Layla lost the pregnancy after all?
Those mismatched eyes searched around. "You by yourself?"
Why the hell would - Oh, Saxton. Right. "Yes - "
The male took three strides forward, reached up...and kissed the ever-loving shit out of Blay.
The kiss was the kind that you remembered all your life, the connection forged with such totality that everything from the feel of the body against your own, to the warm slide of another's lips on yours, to the power as well as the control, was etched into your mind.
Blay didn't ask any questions.
He just held on, slipping his arms around the other male, welcoming the tongue that entered him, kissing back even though he didn't understand what had motivated this.
He probably should care. Probably should pull away.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
Whatever.
He was vaguely aware that the door was open into the hall, but he didn't care - even though things were going to get pretty goddamn indiscreet pretty quick.
Except Qhuinn abruptly put the brakes on, ending the liplock and separating them. "Sorry. This isn't why I came."
The fighter was still panting, and that, as well as the burn in that incredible stare, was nearly enough for Blay to say something along the lines of, That's fine, but can we finish what we started first.
Qhuinn walked back and shut the door. Then he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leathers - like it was either that or he was worried they might latch on again.
Fuck the pockets, Blay thought as he tried to subtly rearrange his erection. "What is it?" he asked.
"I know you went to see Payne."
The words were spoken clearly and slowly - and they were the one thing that Blay couldn't really handle. Breaking eye contact, he wandered around his room.
"You saved the pregnancy," Qhuinn announced, the tone in his voice too close to awe for comfort.
"So she's still okay?"
"You saved the - "
"Payne did."
"V's sister said it never would have dawned on her to try - until you went and talked with her."
"Payne's got some serious talent - "
Qhuinn was suddenly right in his way, a solid wall of muscle that there was no going through. Especially as the male reached up and brushed Blay's cheek. "You saved my daughter."
In the silence that followed, Blay knew he had something he was supposed to say. Yeah...it was right on his tongue. It was...
Shit. With