Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven 1)

When she nodded, he squeezed her hand. “It’s love. That’s why I stayed. I think I fell in love with you from the moment I first saw you in person.”

“Me, too.” She let out a soft sob. “I knew when I saw you … nothing was going to be the same again.”

Daniel winked. “Even if I don’t have a sense of humor?”

“I still think you’re blind to your potential in that department.”

“So let’s spend the next fifty years arguing about it, sound good? Great. Let’s book it.”

Lydia’s face fell, and she couldn’t hide it from him. Then again, she wanted to be honest with him. She had to be.

Daniel took a deep breath. “Okay, spit it out. Just let it fly, whatever it is, we’ll figure something out. Although given that I need to quit my job, I’m going to lose my health benefits so …”

As his voice drifted off, she felt a tear slip out of her eye. Brushing it off with impatience, she wanted to be strong. Had to be.

“It’s your lungs, Daniel.”

He put a hand lightly on his chest, on top of the white surgical bindings. “I have pneumonia?”

When she shook her head slowly, he cursed. Looked away. Cursed again.

“Sonofabitch. That fucking cough.”

“It’s in your liver, too, Daniel.”

As he closed his eyes, he went quiet for a moment. And then his lids popped open and he looked at the ceiling and he nodded.

“I started coughing blood maybe six months ago. I powered through it, told myself it wasn’t a big deal because it wasn’t an all-the-time kind of thing. And I’ve been fucking exhausted and nauseous. Losing weight. I just thought it was … well, now I know what it is.”

“I’m so sorry.” She stroked his arm. “I don’t … it’s just what you said. We’ll handle it together, okay? We can handle it together.”

The silence became so loud in the room, it felt like a scream. Or maybe that was the sound in her head, the howling pain at the unfairness of it all supersonic in its volume.

To have met the love of her life, who knew the impossible truth about her and still accepted her … only to lose him before they began? Come on, destiny.

“I need to know more,” he said finally. “I want to know what kind and … everything. Maybe we’ll get a miracle. Or good news or …”

“That’s right.” Lydia nodded and all but crawled onto his chest. “That’s what we’re going to hope for. That’s what I’m going to pray for. And you’re going to do the same.”

She reached up to the nape of her neck. “Here. Take my grandfather’s St. Christopher medal. You’re going to wear it.”

When he struggled to lift his head, she helped him, and the delicate gold chain barely fit around his neck. But as he relaxed back against the pillows, she arranged what her grandfather had given her.

“He would approve of you having it,” she said. “He was the one who guided me to you out in the woods. He appeared before me … and he took me to you to save you.”

“And now we’re here,” Daniel mumbled in a dull voice.

“We just need to pray for good news. And a path forward.”

BACK IN CALDWELL, at the Brotherhood’s mansion, Xhex was chilling on one of the sofas in the billiards room, watching John Matthew, Qhuinn, V, and Butch squabble over who was playing in the first twosome at everybody’s favorite pool table. Even though there were a couple of others, the center one was, like, some kind of good luck talisman or some shit.

She didn’t know. She didn’t play games with balls.

Okay, not those kind of balls.

When John Matthew looked over and wagged his brows, it was clear he and Qhuinn were going to go at it first. No doubt, the winner of the match would play the next person in line, and so on and so on. Until dawn came and Fritz put on a massive Last Meal with enough pieces of cooked meat to feed a den of lions.

Natch.

Meanwhile, all around the house, other people were talking. Laughing. Relaxing.

It was rare that everyone had a night off at the same time, but Wrath had started the tradition a couple of months ago, and it seemed to be sticking. And as this month’s free time happened to hit on a Sunday, Xhex didn’t have to go in to any of the clubs.

So here she was. On the couch. Totally determined not to think about everything she’d been ignoring—

A glass of grapefruit juice appeared in front of her and she looked up at Rehvenge with a jump. Accepting the vitamin C, she said, “How the hell did you get Lassiter to let you use his juicer thing?”

The king of the symphaths sat down beside her with his own ginger ale. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”