J. Ward - Lover Enshrined

All Cormia could do was blink. “You… do?”

Bella nodded. “Yeah, I do. And you want to know something else? Phury’s lucky to have you. I’m just praying he figures that out sooner rather than later.”

Dearest Virgin Scribe, that was not something Cormia had ever expected to hear from anyone, much less Bella, and her shock must have shown because the female laughed.

“Okay, I’ve made you feel weird, and I’m sorry. But I’ve wanted to say that to the both of you for the longest time.” Bella’s eyes shifted over to the bathroom, and she took a deep breath. “Now I guess you’d better go so I can get ready for Doc Jane and her poking. Love that female, I really do, but man, I hate when she snaps on those gloves of hers.”

Cormia said a good-bye of sorts and left for her own bedroom, deep in thought.

When she turned the corner next to Wrath’s study, she stopped. As if she’d summoned him, the Primale was at the head of the great stairwell, looming large and looking exhausted.

His eyes clung to her.

He must hunger for news of Bella, she thought. “She’s feeling better, but I think she’s hiding something. The Brother Zsadist has just gone for Doc Jane.”

“Good. I’m glad. Thank you for watching over her.”

“It was my pleasure. She’s lovely.”

The Primale nodded; then his eyes traced over her from her hair, which was up high on her head, to her bare feet. It was as if he were reacquainting himself with her, as if he hadn’t been around her for ages.

“What ugliness have you witnessed since you left?” she whispered.

“Why do you ask?”

“You stare at me as if it has been weeks since you saw me. What have you seen?”

“You read me well.”

“About as well as you avoid my question.”

He smiled. “Which would be very well, huh.”

“You don’t have to speak of-”

“I saw more death. Avoidable death. Such a damn waste. This war is evil.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” She wanted to take his hand. Instead, she said, “Would you… join me in the garden? I was going to walk among the roses for a bit before the sun comes.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Of course.” She bowed to avoid his eyes. “Your grace.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.” She gathered her robing and walked quickly to the stairs he had just mounted.

“Cormia.”

“Yes?”

As she looked over her shoulder, his eyes bored into hers. They burned in a way that took her back to the two of them on the floor in his bedroom, and her heart leaped to her throat.

Except then he merely shook his head. “Nothing. Just stay safe.”

As Cormia went down the stairs, Phury headed for the hall of statues and the first of the windows that looked out over the back garden.

Going with her to see the roses was so not an option. He was raw right now, stripped of his skin, though he still wore his suit of flesh. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those bodies in the clinic’s corridor and the scared faces in that medicine closet and the bravery of those who shouldn’t have had to fight for their lives.

If he hadn’t stopped to help Bella up the stairs and then gone to find Zsadist, maybe those civilians wouldn’t have been saved. Sure as hell, no one would have called him as backup, because he wasn’t a Brother anymore.

Down below, Cormia emerged on the terrace, her white robe glowing against the dark gray stone pavers. She drifted over to the roses and bent at the waist to bring her nose to the blooms. He could almost hear her breath going in and the sigh of contentment she’d release as the fragrance registered.

His thoughts shifted from the ugliness of war to the beauty of the female form.

And to what males did with females in between satin sheets.

Yeah, it was a big no on being around Cormia right now. He wanted to replace the death and suffering he’d seen tonight with something else, something alive and warm and all about the body, not the head. As he watched his First Mate lavish her attentions on the rosebushes, he wanted her naked and writhing and slick with sweat underneath him.

Ah… but she wasn’t his First Mate any longer, was she.

Shit .

The wizard’s voice drifted through his head. Could you honestly have done right by her, though? Made her happy? Kept her safe? You spend a good twelve hours a day smoking. Could you light up blunt after blunt in front of her and have her watch you wilt into your pillows and nod off? You want her to see that?

Do you want her dragging you back into the house at dawn, like you did for your father?

Would you hit her in frustration someday, too?

“No!” he said out loud.

Oh, really? Your father said that to you. Didn’t he, mate. Promised you right to your face that he’d never hit you again.

Problem is, the word of an addict is just that. A word. Nothing more.

Phury rubbed his eyes and turned away from the window.

To give himself a purpose, any purpose, he headed for Wrath’s study. Even though he wasn’t a member of the Brotherhood anymore, the king would want to know what had happened at the clinic. With Z busy with Jane and Bella, and the other Brothers helping out at the new clinic, he might as well make an unofficial report. Besides, he wanted Wrath to know the reason why he’d gone over there in the first place, and reassure the king that he wasn’t disregarding his pink slip.

And then there was the whole Lash issue.

The kid was missing.

The tally of heads at the new clinic and the count of the bodies at the old one had revealed only one abduction, and Lash was it. The medical staff indicated he was alive at the time of the raid, having been resuscitated after his vitals crashed. Which was tragic. The kid might have been a bastard, but no one wanted him to fall into the hands of the lessers . If he was lucky, he’d died on the way to wherever they were taking him, and there was a good chance he had, given the shape he’d been in.

Phury knocked on Wrath’s study. “My lord? My lord, you in?”

When there was no answer, he tried again.

He didn’t get any response, so he turned away and headed for his room, knowing damn well he was going to light up and smoke out and take his place once again in the wizard’s bleak kingdom.

As if you could be anywhere else , the dark voice in his head drawled.

Across town, at Blaylock’s parents’ house, Qhuinn was sneaked in through the back service entrance the doggen used. He did his best to limp along, but Blay had to carry him up the servants’ staircase.

After Blay left his room to go lie about where he’d been and what he’d been doing, John took up sentry duty while Qhuinn settled on his buddy’s bed with none of his usual relief. And not just because he felt like a punching bag.

Blay’s folks deserved better than this. They’d been good to Qhuinn all along. Hell, a lot of parents wouldn’t let their kids near him, but Blay’s had been tight from the get-go. And now they were inadvertently jeopardizing their station in the glymera by harboring a disowned, PNG fugitive.

Just the thought of it all made Qhuinn sit up with the intention of taking off, but his belly had other plans for him. A sharpshooter went through his gut, like his liver had picked up a bow and arrow and taken aim at his kidneys. With a groan, he lay back down.

Try to stay still , John signed.

“Roger… that.”

John’s phone went off, and the guy took it out of the pocket of his A amp; F jeans. As he read whatever it was, Qhuinn thought back to the three of them going to the mall to shop and him fucking that manager in the dressing room.