In the split second before he replied, he felt an overwhelming need for his brother to come through this some way, somehow. Even though he barely knew the guy, and had resented him for years—and then been beaten by him when Luchas had joined that Honor Guard—he hadn’t realized until they were gone how rudderless you were on the planet when there was no blood of yours walking the earth with you.
Then again, that void was exactly what had spurred him on during Layla’s needing. And what had made him reach for Blay instinctively.
Love ’em or hate ’em, by blood or by heart, family was a kind of oxygen.
Necessary for the living.
“Do it,” he said once more.
“Wait,” Blay cut in, whipping his belt off and giving it to Qhuinn. “For his mouth.”
Just one more reason to love the guy. Although it wasn’t like he needed yet another.
Qhuinn angled the strap into his brother’s open mouth and held it in place as he nodded to V. “Stay with me, Luchas. Come on, now—stay with…”
Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked that bright white light closing in on his brother’s sternum….
Luchas’s chest jerked high, his whole body spasming off the floorboards as a brilliant glow shot through him, funneling down his arms and his legs, radiating up to his head. The sound he made was inhuman, a guttural moan that went straight into Qhuinn’s marrow.
When V yanked back his hand, that glowing palm raising high, Luchas dropped like the deadweight he was, his body bouncing, his limbs flapping.
He blinked rapidly, as if a stiff breeze were blowing into his face.
“Hit him again,” Qhuinn demanded. When V didn’t respond, he glared. “One more time.”
“This is fucking nuts,” Rhage muttered.
V measured the male for a moment. Then brought that deadly hand back into range. “Once more—that’s all you get,” he said to Luchas.
“Damn straight,” Rhage cut in. “Any more and you could make a s’more out of the son of a bitch.”
The second shot was just as bad—that battered body contorting wildly, Luchas making that god-awful sound before landing back down in a clatter of bones.
But he took a deep breath. A big, powerful, deep breath that expanded his rib cage.
Qhuinn felt like praying, and he guessed he did as he started chanting, “Come on, come on….”
The mangled hand, the one with the ring, stretched out and grabbed onto Qhuinn’s shirt. The hold was weak, but Qhuinn leaned in.
“What,” he said. “Talk slow….”
That hand skipped over his jacket.
“Talk to me.”
His brother’s hand locked on the grip of one of his daggers. “Kill…me….”
Qhuinn’s eyes peeled wide.
Luchas’s voice was nothing like it had been, nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Kill…me…brother…mine….”
SIXTY-TWO
“How you holding up?” Blay asked.
Standing on the porch of the cabin, Qhuinn breathed in and caught a hint of smoke on the air. Blay had lit up again, and much as Qhuinn hated the habit, he didn’t blame the guy. Hell, if he were into that kind of thing, he’d have busted out the coffin nails, too.
He glanced over. Blay was staring at him patiently, clearly prepared to wait for a response to the question even if it took what was left of the night.
Qhuinn checked his watch. One a.m.
How long was it going to take the rest of Brotherhood to get here? And was this evac plan they were all rocking really going to work—
“I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind,” he replied.
“I’m with you.” Blay exhaled in the opposite direction. “I can’t believe that he’s…”
Qhuinn stared at the trees ahead of them. “I never asked you about that night.”
“No. And frankly, I don’t blame you.”
Behind them, in the cabin, Rhage, V, and John were with Luchas. Everyone had taken their jackets off and wrapped them around the male in hopes of keeping him warm.
Standing in his muscle shirt and his weapons, Qhuinn didn’t feel the cold.
He cleared his throat. “Did you see him.”
Blay had been the one to go back to the mansion after the raids. Qhuinn simply hadn’t had the sac to ID the bodies.
“Yes, I did.”
“Was he dead then?”
“As far as I knew, yes. He was…yeah, I didn’t think there was any chance he was alive.”
“You know, I never sold the house.”
“So I’d heard.”
Technically, as a disavowed member of the family, he had had no rights to the property. But there had been so many killed that no one made any claims to the estate, and it had, according to the Old Laws, reverted to the king’s ownership—whereupon Wrath had promptly given it in fee simple to Qhuinn.
Whatever the hell that meant.
“I didn’t know what to think when I was told they’d gotten slaughtered.” Qhuinn looked up to the sky. The forecast was for more snow, so no stars were to be seen. “They hated me. I guess I hated them. And then they were gone.”
Beside him, Blay went very still.
Qhuinn knew why and a sudden awkwardness had him shoving his hands into his pockets. Yes, he absolutely despised talking about emotions and crap, but there was no keeping the shit down. Not out here. In private. With Blay.
Clearing his throat, he kept going. “I was relieved more than anything, to be honest. I can’t tell you what it was like growing up in that house. All those people looking at me like I was a walking, talking curse on them.” He shook his head. “I used to avoid them as much as possible, using the servants’ stairs, staying in that part of the house. But then the doggen threatened to quit. Actually, the biggest bene of my getting through the transition was that I could dematerialize out the window of my room. Then none of them had to deal with me.”
Even when Blay cursed softly, Qhuinn still didn’t feel like shutting up. “And you know what the real head fuck was? I saw that love was possible when my father looked at my brother. It would have been one thing if the bastard had just hated all of us—but he didn’t. And that just made me realize how locked out I was.” Qhuinn glanced over. Shuffled his shitkickers. “Why are you looking at me like that.”
“Sorry. Yeah, sorry. You just…you’ve never talked about them. Ever.”
Qhuinn frowned and measured the sky again, picturing the twinkling lights of the stars even though he couldn’t see them. “I wanted to. With you, that is. Not with anyone else.”
“Why didn’t you?” As if this was something the guy had wondered for a while.
In the silence that followed, Qhuinn sifted through memories he had never dwelled on, seeing himself. Seeing his family. Seeing…Blay. “I loved going to your house. I can’t tell you what it meant to me—I remember the first time you invited me over. I was convinced your parents were going to kick me out. I was ready for it. Hell, I dealt with that shit at my own house all the time, so why wouldn’t complete strangers do the same? But your mom…” Qhuinn cleared his throat again. “Your mom sat me down at your kitchen table and fed me.”
“She was mortified that she made you sick. Right afterward, you ran into the bathroom and threw up for an hour.”
“I wasn’t throwing up in there.”
Blay’s head whipped around. “But you said—”
“I was crying.”
As Blay recoiled, Qhuinn shrugged. “Come on, what was I going to say. That I pussied out and wept next to the sink on the floor? I ran the water so no one heard and flushed the toilet every once in a while.”
“I never knew.”
“That was the plan.” Qhuinn glanced over. “That was always the plan. I didn’t want you to know how bad it was at my house, because I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. I didn’t want you or your parents to feel like you had to take me in. I wanted you to be my friend—and you were. You always have been.”