What he did was quick and about as satisfying as a piece of cold pizza: good, but not even close to a real meal.
The second trip through the park didn't improve the situation and he refused his body the chance for a third. Because honestly. How skeevy. Qhuinn and Layla were taking care of business on the other side of the door while he was all Johnny Pneumonic in the hot water? Ew.
Getting out, he dried himself off, put on his robe and realized he hadn't brought anything in to get dressed with. As he turned the knob on the door, he prayed that things were where he'd left them.
And they were, thank you, Scribe Virgin: Qhuinn had his mouth to Layla's other wrist and was taking what he needed as the Chosen knelt beside him.
Nothing overtly sexual.
The relief that nailed Blay in the chest made him realize how angry he'd become--not just about this but everything that had to do with Qhuinn.
It was really not healthy. For anyone.
And besides, when everything boiled down, was it wrong that Qhuinn felt the way he did? You couldn't help who you were attracted to. . . and who you weren't.
Over at the closet, Blay pulled out a button-down and some black combats. Just as he turned around to head for the bathroom, Qhuinn lifted his mouth from Layla's vein.
The male let out a satiated groan and extended his tongue toward the wounds he'd made with his fangs. As a flash of silver glinted, Blay's brows popped. The ball piercing was a new one and he wondered who'd done it.
Probably Vishous. The pair were spending a lot of time together and that was how they'd gotten the ink for John's tat--Qhuinn had lifted the bottle.
Qhuinn's tongue lapped at the Chosen's skin, that metal winking with each pass. "Thanks, Layla. You're good to us. "
He gave her a quick smile and then shifted his legs off the bed, clearly on his way out. Layla, on the other hand, didn't move. Instead of following suit and taking her leave, her head went down and her eyes locked on her lap--
No, on her wrists, which were flashing from under the yawning cuffs of her robe. As she swayed, Blay frowned.
"Layla?" he said, going over to her. "Are you all right?"
Qhuinn came right around the bed. "Layla? What's doing?"
Now they were the ones kneeling before her.
Blay spoke clearly. "Did we take too much?"
Qhuinn went front and center with his own wrist, offering it to her. "Use me. "
Shit, she'd fed John the night before. Maybe this had been too soon?
The Chosen's pale green eyes lifted to Qhuinn's face, and there was no spacy disorientation to her stare. Just a sad, ancient longing.
Qhuinn recoiled. "What did I do?"
"Nothing," she said in a voice that was too deep. "If you will pardon me, I shall take myself unto the sanctuary once again. "
Layla went to get up, but Qhuinn captured her hand and tugged her down. "Layla, what's doing. "
God, that voice of his. So smooth, so kind. And so was his hand as he reached up and hooked her chin, lifting her eyes to his.
"I cannot speak of it. "
"Yeah, you can. " Qhuinn nodded in Blay's direction. "He and I will keep your confidence. "
The Chosen took a deep breath and her exhale was one of defeat, like she was out of gas, out of options, out of strength. "For truth? You shall remain silent?"
"Yup. Blay?"
"Yes, absolutely. " He put his hand on his heart. "I swear. We'll do anything to help you. Anything. "