For no apparent reason, he thought of one of Fritz’s beloved Dysons, the thing rolled into a service closet, left in the dark until somebody took it out for use.
Great. He’d been reduced to the level of a vacuum cleaner.
Eventually he cursed, and ordered himself to carry on with getting undressed and going to bed. The night had been a ballbuster from the moment the sun had gone down, and the good news was that the sorry mess was finally over: Shutters were in place to keep out the sun. House was getting quiet.
Time for a REM-sleep reboot.
As he gingerly took his muscle shirt off and grunted at all the aches and pains, he realized he’d left his leather jacket and his weapons down in the clinic. Whatever. He had extras up here if he needed them during the day, and he could get his stuff brought up before First Meal.
Going for the fly of his leathers, he—
The door behind him exploded open with such force, it ricocheted off the wall—only to be caught on the rebound by the hard grip of one pissed-off motherfucker.
Blay was rip-shit as he stood in the jambs, his body trembling with such rage that even Qhuinn, who had faced off with a lot of things in his life, went whoa.
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” the male barked.
Are you kidding me, Qhuinn thought. How could the guy not have recognized that foreign scent on his own lover?
“I think you need to put that to my cousin.”
As Blay marched forward, Qhuinn moved around the guy to—
Blay snatched a grab and bared his fangs with a hiss. “Running?”
In a quiet voice, Qhuinn said, “No. I’m shutting the damn door so no one else hears this.”
“I don’t give a fuck!”
Qhuinn thought of Layla down at the other end of the hall, trying to sleep. “Well, I do.”
Qhuinn disengaged and shut them in together. Then before he could turn around, he had to close his eyes and take a little TO.
“You disgust me,” Blay said.
Qhuinn hung his head.
“You need to get the fuck out of my life.” The bitterness in that familiar voice went straight into his heart. “You stay the hell out of my business!”
Qhuinn looked over his shoulder. “You don’t even care that he was with someone else?”
Blay’s mouth opened. Closed. Then those brows dropped low. “What?”
Oh. Great.
In the rush of everything, Blay had clearly not clued in to the whys.
“What did you say?” Blay repeated.
“You heard me.”
When there was no reply, no cursing, nothing thrown in terms of punches or objects, Qhuinn turned around.
After a moment, Blay crossed his arms, not around his chest, but his middle, as if he were vaguely nauseated.
Qhuinn scrubbed his face and spoke in a broken voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry….I don’t want this for you.”
Blay shook himself. “What…” Those blue eyes focused. “That’s why you attacked him?”
Qhuinn took a step forward. “I’m sorry…I just…he came in through the door and I caught the scent, and I just lost it. I wasn’t even thinking.”
Blay blinked, like maybe he was getting confronted with a foreign concept.
“That’s why you…why the hell would you do that?”
Qhuinn took another step forward, and then forced himself to stop—in spite of an almost overwhelming need to get close to the guy. And as Blay shook his head like he was having problems understanding all of it, Qhuinn didn’t mean to speak.
But he did. “Do you remember down in the clinic, well over a year ago…” He pointed to the floor, like, in case the guy had forgotten where the training center was. “It was before you and Saxton first…” Right. No finishing that one, not if he wanted to keep down all that food he’d eaten. “Remember what I told you?”
As Blay seemed confused, he helped the guy out. “I told you that if anyone ever hurt you, I would hunt them down and leave them for the sun?” Even he heard the way his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Saxton hurt you tonight, so I did what I said I was going to do.”
Blay rubbed his face with his hand. “Jesus…”
“I told you what was going to happen. And if he does that again, I can’t promise you I won’t finish the job.”
“Look, Qhuinn, you can’t…you can’t be doing that shit. You just can’t.”
“Don’t you care? He was unfaithful. That’s not okay.”
Blay exhaled long and slow, like he was tired of carrying a weight. “Just…don’t do that again.”
Now Qhuinn was the one shaking his head. He didn’t get it. If he were in a relationship with Blay, and Blay stepped out on him? He’d never get over it.
God, why hadn’t he taken advantage of what he’d been offered? He shouldn’t have run. He should have stayed put.
Unbidden, his feet took another step forward. “I’m sorry….”
All of a sudden, he was saying those words over and over again, repeating them with each footfall that brought him closer to Blay.
“I’m sorry….I’m sorry….I’m…sorry….” He didn’t know what the fuck he was saying or doing; he just had an urgency to repent for all his sins.
There were so many when it came to this honorable male who was standing dead still before him.
Finally, there was only one step left before his bare chest hit Blay’s.
Qhuinn’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
In the thick silence that followed, Blay’s mouth parted…but not in surprise. More like he couldn’t breathe.
Reminding himself not to be a world-revolves-around-me asshole, Qhuinn brought it back to what was happening between Blay and Saxton.
“I don’t want that for you,” he said, his eyes roaming around that face. “You’ve suffered enough, and I know you love him. I’m sorry….I’m so sorry….”
Blay just stood in front of him, his expression frozen, his eyes darting around as if they couldn’t light on anything. But he didn’t pull back, jerk away, storm off. He stayed…right where he was.
“I’m sorry.”
Qhuinn watched from a vast distance as his own hand reached out and touched Blay’s face, the fingertips running over the five o’clock shadow. “I’m sorry.”
Oh, God, to touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin, to inhale his clean, masculine scent.
“I’m sorry.”
What the fuck was he doing? Man…too late to answer that—he was reaching forward with his other hand and putting the palm on that heavy shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
Oh, God, he was drawing Blay in, pulling that body up against his own. “I’m sorry.”
He moved one of his hands to the nape of Blay’s neck and pushed it deep into the thick hair that curled under there. “I’m sorry.”
Blay was stiff, that spine straight as an arrow, his arms remaining around his tight belly. But after a moment, almost as if he were confused by his own reaction, the male began to lean in, that weight shifting subtly at first, and then more so.
With a quick jerk, Qhuinn wrapped his arms around the single most important person in his life. It was not Layla, although he felt a pang at that denial. It was not John, or his king. It wasn’t the Brothers.
This male was his reason for everything.
And even though it killed him that Blay was in love with someone else, he’d fucking take this. It had been too long since he’d touched the guy…and never like this.
“I’m sorry.”
Palming the back of Blay’s head, he urged the male closer to him, tucking that face into his own neck. “I’m sorry.”
As Blay went with it, Qhuinn shuddered, turning his own face inward, breathing in fully, pulling all of the sensations deep into his brain so he could remember this forever. And while his palm rubbed up and down, soothing that muscled back, he did what he could to make amends for so much more than his cousin’s infidelity. “I’m sorry—”
With a quick shift, Blay shook his head. Shook himself free. Pushed back.
Pushed away.
Qhuinn’s shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because…”