Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11)(131)
Author: J.R. Ward

Blay exhaled a curse, the smoke curling up over his head. "I have no clue."

Shit, that mating thing probably should have occurred to him – and maybe that was why Qhuinn had jumped out of range when V had appeared.

Could Qhuinn and Layla be getting hitched now that the young was okay –

The door swung wide, and Qhuinn came out, looking like he’d been kicked in the head. "Oh, hey, John, whassup."

As the two clapped each other on the shoulder, Qhuinn glanced over, but then carried on with a back-and-forth with John.

And then he and Qhuinn were alone after John left a moment later.

"Are you okay?" Qhuinn said.

Clearly, the question of the hour, wasn’t it.

"Actually, I’m going to ask you that. How’s Luchas?" Blay pulled a V and stubbed his cigarette out on the tread of his shitkicker.

Before Qhuinn could answer, Selena came out of the office, as if she had been summoned from the main house. The Chosen walked toward them gracefully, but with purpose, her traditional white robing flowing around her legs.

"Greetings, sires," she said as she approached. "Dr. Jane indicated that I was required?"

As Blay exhaled, he felt like punching himself. This was the last thing he –

"Yeah, both of us," Qhuinn answered.

Blay closed his eyes as a sudden surge rocked him. The idea of watching Qhuinn feed was like a drug in his bloodstream, loosening him up and threatening to get him hard. But really, it wasn’t –

"Down the hall would be great," Qhuinn murmured.

Well, it was better than a bedroom. Right? More professional, yes?

And he did need the feeding – and Qhuinn no doubt had to as well after all the drama.

Blay ditched his cigarette butt into a trash can and brought up the rear as Qhuinn led the way. Going along, he didn’t track the Chosen’s movements. Nope, not in the slightest. His eyes were glued to Qhuinn’s, from those shoulders, to those hips…to that ass….

Okay, this was going to stop. Right now.

He just needed to pull himself together, do the feeding, and make an excuse to get gone.

Maybe this plan would be one that actually worked?

In through a doorway. Conversation. Polite smiling, even though he didn’t know what had been asked or answered of him.

Ah, one of the hospital rooms, he realized. This was really good – a clinical environment. Just take the vein and move along, with one biological function not necessarily leading to another –

"I’m sorry?" the Chosen said, looking at him with an open face.

Great. He’d been loose-lipping it, but there was no telling how much he’d shared.

"I’m sorry," he said smoothly. "I’m just hungry as all get-out."

"In that case, would you like to be first?" Selena asked.

"Yeah, he would," Qhuinn replied as he settled back against the door.

Well, there you go, Blay thought. Everything was settled. When Qhuinn started? He was going to leave.

Stepping forward, he wondered how this was going to work precisely, but Selena solved that one by drawing up a chair and sitting by the hospital bed. Roger that – Blay hopped up on the mattress, his weight displacing the pillow from the slightly raised head, the springs creaking. And then his mind shut down, which was a relief. As Selena stretched out her arm and drew her white sleeve back, his hunger came to the forefront, his fangs dropping down from his upper jaw, his breath deepening.

"Please partake as you wish," she said placidly.

"I thank you for the gift, Chosen," he answered in a low voice.

Leaning down, he struck deeply, but as gently as he could – and on the first swallow, he knew it had been too long. With a great howl, his stomach roared with need, his civility draining out of him, his instincts taking over: He drew hard, drinking faster and faster, the power landing in his gut and spreading out from there –

His eyes went to Qhuinn.

Dimly, he was aware that yet again, one of his plans was soon going to be out the window, gone and forgotten. In fact, this had been a very bad idea – assuming he didn’t want to f**k the guy again: Logic was difficult enough when it was just a case of conflicting emotions. A full-on sexual urge, spurred by the drinking?

He was an asshat of the first order; he truly was.

And that was especially true as he watched Qhuinn’s erection inflate behind the fly of the fighter’s leathers.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Man, one of these days, he was going to be strong enough to walk away. He really was, honest.

Oh, FUCK.

Chapter Sixty-seven

As Qhuinn watched the show, his tongue parted his mouth and took a lick of his lips.

Across the shallow room, Blay was up on the hospital bed, that perfect torso angled forward so he could partake of the Chosen’s vein, his hands, those capable, well-trained, strong hands, holding the fragile wrist to his mouth with care – as though, even in the throes of feeding, he was a gentlemale.

As he continued to drink, his torso curved around even tighter, his rib cage flexing and settling with every breath, his head subtly shifting with every swallow.

It was all Qhuinn could do to stay where he was. He so wanted up on that mattress as well, twisting that body around so he could come in from behind. He wanted to be at the male’s throat as Blay took from the Chosen. He wanted to f**k the guy for twelve or fifteen hours straight when they were both done.

After all the drama with Luchas, this short, intense respite from the shock and pain was a glorious, guilty relief: it was just too damn good to focus on something like this – his tired mind and exhausted body ready to be refreshed so he could come back to reality fighting strong once again.

God, his brother…

Shaking his head, he deliberately gave his brain something erotic to play with: As Blay’s hand sneaked between his legs and rearranged something at his fly, it was pretty damn clear he was fully aroused.

As if that delicious scent didn’t make it obvious.

Just as Qhuinn was about to lose it, Blay lifted his head and let out a chuffing sound of satisfaction. Then the male licked at the puncture wounds he’d made.

You know what, Qhuinn thought. Fuck the feeding. All he needed was Blay….

"And you, sire?" the Chosen asked.

Crap. He probably should do it.

Besides, Blay was clearly in a postfeeding logy state, his body slow, his eyes fuzzy – and Qhuinn took advantage of it, pushing himself between the fighter and the Chosen, his ass rubbing against the hard ridge of Blay’s c**k as he hopped up onto the bed.

While Blay let out a groan, Qhuinn leaned over and took the female’s other wrist. Holding it with one hand, he used his other to yank out the bottom of his muscle shirt – and then shove Blay’s palm down the front of his own pants.