After a moment, she turned back to the view, and wondered where in the city Manuel was. It would be in the thicket of tall buildings, so going by the bridge’s location, it would be . . . there.
Yes, there.
Lifting her hand, she drew an invisible circle around the tall, thin construction of glass and steel that she was certain was where he lived.
As her chest pained her and she became breathless, she tarried a moment longer and then scattered north and east, toward the Brotherhood’s compound. There was no enthusiasm to the trip, just an abiding obligation to inform her twin that she was in fact alive and unharmed.
When she took form on the stone steps of the vast mansion, she approached the double doors with a strange dread. She was grateful to be back to a home of sorts, but the absence of her male hollowed out any of the joy she should have felt at the reconnections that were to come.
After she rang the bell, the door into the vestibule immediately unlatched and she was able to step out of the night—
The second, inner door was opened even quicker by the smiling butler.
“Madam!” he cried out.
As she entered a foyer that had charmed her from the moment she’d first seen it days ago, she had a brief impression of her shocked twin leaping into the archway of the billiards room.
Brief was all she got of him, however.
Some great force knocked Vishous out of the way so hard he went flying, the glass in his hand popping out of his hold, whatever drink was in it spraying into the air.
Manuel ripped into the foyer, his body surging forth, the expression on his face one of disbelief and terror and relief all at once.
Except it made no sense that he was running toward her, no sense that he was here in the—
He had her in his arms before she could finish the thought, and oh, fate, he smelled the same, that dark spice that was unique to him and him alone flooding her senses. And his shoulders were just as wide as she remembered. And his waist just as lean. And his embrace just as wonderful about her.
His strong body shook as he held her tightly for a moment and then he backed off as if he were afraid he was injuring her.
His eyes were frantic. “Are you all right? What can I do for you? Do you need a doctor? Are you hurt—I’m asking too many questions—I’m sorry. God . . . what happened? Where did you go? Shit, I have to stop . . .”
As romantic reunions went, perhaps those were not the flowery words some females would want to hear, but to her, they meant everything in the world.
“Why ever are you here?” she whispere
d, putting her hands to his face.
“Because I love you.”
In so many ways, that explained nothing . . . and told her everything she needed to know.
Abruptly, she jerked her hands back. “But what about what I’ve done to your body—”
“I don’t care. We’ll work with it—figure it out—but I was wrong about you and me. I was a pussy—a coward, and I was wrong and I’m so fuck—damned sorry. Shit.” He shook his head. “I have to stop cursing. Oh, God, your robe . . .”
She glanced down and saw the black blood of the slayers she’d killed, as well as the red stain that was of her own.
“I am whole and I am well,” she said clearly. “And I love you—”
Cutting her off, he kissed her on the mouth solemnly. “Say that again. Please.”
“I love you.”
As he groaned and wrapped his arms back around her, Payne felt within her heart a great welling of warmth and gratitude, and she let the emotion carry her against him. And whilst they embraced, she looked over the shoulder of her male. Her brother was standing with his own shellan at his side.
Meeting the eyes of her twin, she read all of the questions and fears in his stare.
“I am uninjured,” she told both her male and her twin.