Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11)(129)
Author: J.R. Ward

And he was still erect when it was time to get out.

The cold air would take care of that.

Stepping onto the bath mat, that was also done in that god-awful deep pinky red, he toweled himself off.

Still erect.

Glancing at his fighting clothes, he found himself loath to put them upon his skin. Rough. Scratchy. Dirty.

Mayhap the feminine environment was contaminating him.

Xcor ended up in the big bed, naked, upon his back.

Still erect.

A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table and he knew he didn’t have long before the house was inundated with fighters.

This was going to have to be quick.

Funneling his hand under the sheets and down his body, he gripped himself….

Xcor’s eyes shut hard and he moaned, his torso twisting from the heat and need that curled up from his lower body. As the pillow came up to greet the side of his face – logically, it was the other way around, he supposed – he began to pump up and down.

Delicious. Especially at the top, where his blunt head ached for attention and got it on every upstroke. Faster. Tighter.

All the while seeing his Chosen.

In truth, the image of her did more for him than what he attended to down below. And as the sensations grew ever stronger, he realized for the first time why his soldiers did this so often. So good. So very, very good…

Oh, his female was beautiful. To the point where, in spite of the power of what he was doing to himself, he was not distracted from her visage. Instead, she became achingly clear to him, from her pale hair to her red lips to her slender neck – all the way down that long, elegant body that was both hidden and revealed by the pristine white robing she had worn.

What would it be like to be wanted by such a creature? To be held within her sacred body as a male of worth…

At that very moment, the reality of her pregnancy re-landed on him like a physical weight. But at least it was too late. Even as his heart chilled and his chest began to ache with the knowledge that she had accepted another, his body continued on its joyride, the conclusion as unstoppable as a –

The orgasm that swept through him made him cry out – and thank the Fates for the pillow that caught his capitulation: At that very moment, down below, he heard the first of his soldiers walk through the house, the drumbeat of combat boots an unmistakable thunder he would recognize anywhere.

The aftermath of his release was wretched on too many levels to count. He had turned upon his injured shoulder; he had come all over his hand and abdomen as well as the sheets; and the vision of loveliness was gone from his head, his hard reality all that remained.

The pain inside of him was raw as a fresh wound.

But at least none would otherwise know of it.

He was, after all, first and foremost, a soldier.

Chapter Sixty-six

"Yes, absolutely you can go see him. He’s groggy, but aware."

As Doc Jane smiled up at Qhuinn, he jacked his leathers higher on his hips and tucked in his muscle shirt. He drew the line at smoothing his hair down, however, forcing his arms to stay at his sides even though his palms were itching to pull a drag-through.

"And he’s going to be okay?"

The doctor nodded as she began to untie the surgical mask that was hanging around the front of her neck. "We removed the vampire equivalent of the human spleen, and that took care of the internal bleeding. We also went through him with a fine-toothed comb. Near as we can figure, he was in some kind of stasis in that oil drum, the Omega’s blood somehow preserving him in his current state in spite of the injuries. If he’d been left out, I’m very certain he would have died."

The curse that brought about a miracle, Qhuinn thought.

"And he’s not contaminated?"

Jane shrugged. "He bleeds red, and no one can sense any of the Omega in him – it was just a case of on or around him."

"Okay. All right." Qhuinn glanced at the door. "Good."

Time to go in, he told himself. Come on….

His eyes went to Blay’s. During the course of the four-hour operation, the guy had gone back and forth down the hall, taking breaks out in the parking lot for cigs. He’d always returned, though.

God, he looked grim.

Had ever since V had come out and found them…yeah.

Christ, what timing had that been.

"I’ll go in now," he said.

It wasn’t until after Blay nodded that he actually entered the OR.

Pushing his way through the door, the first thing he was greeted with was that antiseptic smell that he associated with postfight contusions. Next was the subtle beeping by the gurney in the center of the room, and the sound of Ehlena typing at the computer.

"I’ll give you some private time," she said in a kind voice, as she got to her feet.

"Thanks," he replied quietly.

As the door shut behind her, Qhuinn retucked his shirt even though it didn’t need the help. "Luchas?"

Waiting for his brother to respond, he glanced around. The debris of the operation, the bloody gauze pads, the used instruments, the plastic tubing, was all gone – nothing but the still body under those white sheets, and a stuffed red biohazard bag to show for the hours that had passed.

"Luchas?"

Qhuinn went over and stared down. Man, he didn’t typically have problems with his blood pressure, but when he got a gander at his brother’s drawn face, things went for a spin, a surge of dizziness making him realize exactly how tall he was – and how far he had to fall.

Luchas’s eyes fluttered open.

Gray. They had both been gray, and still were.

Qhuinn reached behind and rolled over a little stool. As he sat down, he didn’t know what to do with his arms, his hands…his voice.

He had never expected to see a member of his family again. And that had been back before the raids, when he’d been kicked out.

"How you doing?" What a dumb-ass question that was.

"He kept…me…"

Qhuinn leaned in close, but damn, that weak, hoarse voice didn’t carry far. "What?"

"He kept me…alive…."

"Who?"

"…because of you."

"Who are you talking about?" Hard to imagine the Omega had a vendetta against –

"Lash…"

At the sound of the name, Qhuinn’s upper lip peeled off his fangs. That motherfucker cousin of theirs – who turned out not to be blood at all, but rather, the transplanted son of the Omega. As a kid, the SOB been an obnoxious show-off. As a pretrans in the training program, he’d made John Matthew’s life a living hell. As a posttrans?

His true father had welcomed him back into the fold, and utter destruction had been the result. Lash was the one who had led the raids. After centuries of the Lessening Society having to hunt and peck for vampire enclaves, that bastard had known exactly where to send the slayers – and because he had been adopted into an aristocratic family, he had decimated the upper classes.