and God, he was still so beautiful--even more than she remembered in her quiet moments. With his strong, hard profile and his extraordinary blue eyes, his face was that of a warrior, and he had the huge body to match, his shoulders making three of hers. All his clothes were leather except for the T-shirt under his jacket and his hair was essentially shaved off, like he'd stopped giving a shit and was cutting it with a buzz razor.
There was lesser blood down the front of his jacket and on his shirt. He had killed tonight. And maybe that was why he'd found her. Well, almost found her.
"John?" a male voice said softly.
She looked over toward the doorway, even if he did not. Qhuinn was standing with the Brothers Rhage and Vishous, having just joined them. In an absent way, she noted the shock on the Brothers' faces--and got the sense that they hadn't guessed there'd been any serious connection between her and John. They knew it now though. Loud and clear. 120
As Qhuinn stepped inside and approached the bed, his tone continued to be gentle. "John, we've been here for a half hour. If we're going to interrogate that lesser downstairs about her, we need to move him pretty damn quick. We don't want to do it here and I know you want to be in charge of things."
Oh, God . . . no . . .
"Take me with you," Xhex whispered desperately. "Please . . . don't leave me here."
Abruptly, John glanced up at her, as if he heard her plea. Except no, he was just staring through her to his friend. As he nodded, she memorized his face, knowing that it was the last time she'd see him. When Lash found out about the break-in, he'd either kill her outright or move her somewhere else--and chances were good she wouldn't survive long enough to be found again.
Lifting her hand, even though it would do no good, she laid it on the side of John's face and swept her thumb back and forth over the tracks of his tears. She imagined she could almost feel the warmth of his skin and the wetness on his cheeks.
She would have given anything to be able to take him into her arms and hold him close. More still to go with him.
"John . . ." she croaked. "Oh, God . . . why are you doing this to yourself."
He frowned, but no doubt it was because of something Qhuinn was saying. Except then his own palm lifted and he placed it where she was touching him.
It was just to sweep his tears away, though.
When he stood up, he took the pillow with him, and he stepped right through her.
Xhex watched his back retreat, her blood thundering in her ears. This was, in some ways, an echo of the process of death, she thought. Little by little, inch by inch, what tied her to life was leaving, heading off, departing. With each step John took toward that door, her breath was evaporating in her lungs. Her heart was stopping. Her skin was growing cold. Her chance of rescue was walking away. Her chance at . . . It was then that she knew what she had been fighting all along, and for once, she felt no inclination to hide her emotions. No need to. Though he was with her, she was totally alone and separate from him, but more to the point, her own mortality clarified her priorities.
"John," she said softly.
He paused and looked over his shoulder toward the bed. 121
"I love you."
His handsome face tightened in pain, and he rubbed the middle of his chest, as if someone had fisted up his heart and squeezed it dead. And then he turned away.
Xhex's body overrode her mind. With a frantic leap, she ran for the open door, arms outstretched, mouth cranked wide.
As she hit the confines of her prison, she heard a loud noise, like a siren . . . or the shrill whistle of fireworks after they were lit . . . or maybe it was the security system's alarm going off.
But it was none of those.
She was screaming at the top of her lungs.
122
SIXTEEN
John had to tear himself away from that bedroom. If it hadn't been for the overriding logic and the need to crack open that lesser, he wouldn't have been able to budge his boots an inch.
He could have sworn he felt her presence . . . but