Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood 8)

"Soon?" Xhex said. "Because I don't feel tired and I want to learn sign language. "

John nodded again and then knuckle-tapped with Rehvenge before heading out into the OR.

As he walked by the empty gurney, he was glad that V had finished cleaning up and wasn't around. Because for the life of him, John wouldn't have been able to hide the smile on his face.

In silence, Blay walked side by side with Qhuinn through the underground tunnel that led between the training center and the mansion's foyer.

The sounds of their two sets of shitkickers mingled, but that was it. Neither he nor Qhuinn said anything. And there was no touching.

Absolutely no touching.

A while ago, before his big admission to the guy, before things had broken down between them, Blay would simply have asked what was on Qhuinn's mind because clearly he was in a churn about something. Now, though, what would have once been just an afterthought seemed like an inappropriate intrusion.

As they came out through the hidden door under the mansion's grand staircase, Blay found himself dreading the rest of the night.

Sure, there wasn't much left to it, but two hours could seem like a lifetime under the right circumstances. Or the wrong ones, as the case was.

"Layla should be waiting for us," Qhuinn said as he went to the foot of the stairs.

Oh. . . great. Just the kind of diversion he was looking for.

Not. After having seen the way that Chosen stared at Qhuinn, he just didn't feel up to getting a boatload of that shy crushing again. Especially not tonight. The near miss with Xhex had left him curiously raw.

"You coming?" Qhuinn asked, his frown pulling in the piercing on his left eyebrow.

Blay flicked his stare down to the hoop that rounded the guy's full lower lip.

"Blay? You okay? Look, I think you need to feed, buddy. Lot been going down lately. "

Buddy. . . Christ, he hated that word.

But fuck him, he needed to get a grip. "Yeah. Sure. "

Qhuinn gave him an odd look. "My bedroom or yours?"

Blay laughed harshly and started up the stairs. "Does it really matter?"

"No. "

"Exactly. "

When they got to the second floor, they went past Wrath's study, the doors of which were shut, and headed down the hall of statues.

Qhuinn's room was the first they came to, but Blay pressed on, thinking that something could finally be on his turf, his terms.

Opening the door wide, he left the thing as it was and ignored the soft clicking sound when Qhuinn shut them in together.

In the bathroom, Blay went to the sink, turned on the faucet and bent over, splashing his face. He was drying himself off when he caught the scent of cinnamon and knew Layla had arrived.

Bracing his palms on the marble, he leaned into his arms and sagged. Out in his room, he heard their voices mingling, the lower and the higher trading places for airtime.

Throwing the towel down, he turned and went to face the music: Qhuinn was on the bed, his back against the headboard, his boots crossed, his fingers linked over his thick chest as he smiled over at the Chosen. Layla was flushed as she stood next to him, her eyes on the carpet, her smaller, daintier hands twisting in front of her.

As Blay came in, the two of them looked over at him. Layla's expression didn't change. Qhuinn's did, though, closing up tight.

"Who goes first?" Blay asked, approaching them.

"You," Qhuinn muttered. "You go. "