His cousin halted. Looked over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” On closer goddamn inspection, it was really frickin’ obvious what the guy had been up to. His lips were red and there was a flush on his cheeks that Qhuinn was willing to bet had jack shit to do with the cold weather. “Where the fuck you been.”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, cousin.”
Qhuinn stalked over the mosaic floor, not stopping until his shitkickers were steel-toed to the guy’s pretty loafers. “You fucking slut.”
Saxton had the nerve to look bored. “No offense, dearest relation of mine, but I don’t have time for this.”
The guy pivoted around—
Qhuinn snapped a hand out and grabbed an arm. With a yank, he brought them nose-to-nose again. And shit, the stank on the guy made him sick to his fucking stomach.
“Blay is out risking his life in the war—and you’re fucking some random behind his back? Real classy, cocksucker—”
“Qhuinn, this is not your concern—”
Saxton tried to shove him off. Not a good idea. Before Qhuinn knew what he was doing, he locked his palms around the male’s throat.
“How fucking dare you,” he said with his fangs fully bared.
Saxton slapped both his hands on Qhuinn’s wrists and tried to get free, jerking, pulling, getting absolutely nowhere. “You’re…choking…me….”
“I should kill you right here, right now,” Qhuinn growled. “How the fuck could you do that to him? He’s in love with you—”
“Qhuinn…” The strangled voice grew thinner and thinner. “Qh—”
The thought of everything his cousin had, and everything the guy wasn’t taking care of, gave him super-strength, and he channeled it right into his hands. “What the hell else you need, asshole? You think some strange is gonna be better than what you’ve got in your bed?”
The force of his onslaught started to push Saxton backward, the guy’s shoes squeaking on the smooth floor as Qhuinn’s shitkickers drove both of them on. Things halted when Saxton’s shoulders slammed into the staircase’s huge bannister.
“You fucking slut—”
Someone shouted. So did someone else.
And then there was a shitload of fast footfalls coming from different directions, followed by a bunch of people pulling at his arms.
Whatever. He just kept his eyes and his hands locked, the fury in his gut turning him into a bulldog that would…
Not…
Let…
Go…
TWENTY-SIX
“So do you think you guys will ever come back to Caldwell?” Blay asked his mother.
“I don’t know. Your father goes in and out for work so easily every night, and we both like the quiet and the privacy here in the country. Do you think it’s any safer in town now—”
From out of nowhere, shouts penetrated the closed door of his room. A lot of them.
Blay glanced across and frowned. “Hey, Mahmen, I’m sorry to cut you off, but there’s something going on in the house—”
Her voice dropped, fear lacing her words. “You’re not being raided, are you?”
For a moment, that night at their Caldwell home a year and a half ago came back to him in a fast series of stomach churners: his own mother fleeing in terror, his father taking up arms against the enemy, the house ruined.
Even though the shouting seemed to be getting worse, he couldn’t get off without reassuring her. “No, no, no, Mahmen—this place is tight as a tick. Nobody can find us, and even if they could, they can’t get inside. It’s just sometimes the Brothers get into arguments—honestly, it’s fine.”
At least, he hoped it was. Things really appeared to be ramping up.
“Oh, that’s such a relief. I can’t have anything happening to you. Go take care of things, and call me when you know you’re coming for a visit. I’ll get your room all set, and I’ll make you that lasagna.”
On command, his mouth started watering. And so did his eyes, a little. “I love you, Mahmen—and thank you. You know, for…”
“Thank you for trusting me. Now go find out what’s happening, and be safe. I love you.”
Hanging up, he shifted off the bed and hit the door. The second he was out into the hall of statues, it was clear there was a big-time fight going on in the main part of the house: there were a lot of male voices carrying on, all of which were at a volume that had “emergency” written all over it.
Breaking into a jog, he beelined for the second-story balcony—
When he got a gander at the foyer, he didn’t immediately understand what he was seeing down below: There was a whole knot of people at the base of the staircase, all with their arms reaching forward like they were trying to break apart a fight.
Except it wasn’t between two Brothers.
What the fuck? Were they really trying to peel Qhuinn off Saxton…?
Jesus, the vicious bastard had his hands around his cousin’s throat and was, going by the gray pallor of the other male’s face, about to kill him.
“What the hell are you doing!” Blay screamed, as he took the stairs at a dead run.
When he got to the fray, there were too many Brothers in the way—and those were not the kind of males you just elbowed aside. Unfortunately, if anyone was going to get through to Qhuinn, it would be him. But how the hell was he going to get the dumb-ass’s attention—
There you go, he thought.
Shooting across the foyer, he broke the glass of the old-fashioned manual fire alarm with his fist and then reached in and pulled the lever down.
Instantly, noise exploded through the space, the acoustics of the cathedral ceiling acting like a magnifier as the jet-engine-loud alarm went haywire.
It was like hitting a bunch of fighting dogs with a bucket of water. All the action stopped and heads popped out of the tangle, looking around.
The only one who didn’t pay any mind was Qhuinn. He was still locked on and squeezing hard.
Blay took advantage of all the hey-what-is-that and was able to push his way through.
Focusing on Qhuinn, he shoved his face right into the guy’s grille. “Let him go, now.”
The moment his voice registered, an expression of shock replaced the cold violence that had marked Qhuinn’s puss—like he’d never expected to have Blay check in. And that was all it took. One simple command from him and those hands released so quick, Saxton dropped to the floor like deadweight.
“Doc Jane! Manny!” someone called out. “Get a medic!”
Blay wanted to scream at Qhuinn right then and there, but he was too terrified about Saxton’s condition to waste time on any what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-yous: The lawyer wasn’t moving at all. Grabbing the guy’s beautiful suit, Blay rolled him out flat and went for the carotid with his fingertips, praying he found a heartbeat. When he didn’t, he tilted Saxton’s head back and bent down to begin administering CPR.
Except then Saxton let out a cough and dragged in a trunkload of air.
“Manny’s coming,” Blay said roughly, even though he didn’t know that to be true. But come on, someone had to be on the way. “Stay with me….”
More coughing. More breathing. And the color started to come back into that handsome, refined face.
With a shaking hand, Blay pushed back the soft, thick blond hair from the forehead he had touched so many times before. As he looked into the fuzzy eyes staring up at him, he wanted to feel something soul defining and life altering and…
He prayed for that kind of reaction.
Hell, in that moment, he would have traded both his past and present for it.