“Yeah. That’s a problem,” Lucian said, releasing her shoulders with a grimace.
“You—” Marcus began, but Lucian cut him off.
“Do not spout your bit about my brother Jean Claude. I heard it the first time,” he said sharply, and then admitted, “I was standing in the door quite a while longer than you realize, which proves that we’re all useless when we find our life mates. Hell, if I’d been this A-bidet character—”
“Abaddon,” Basha corrected, but couldn’t help grinning at his mispronunciation.
“Whatever,” Lucian muttered. “If I’d been him you’d both be dead right now.”
Neither of them argued the point. He was right.
Lucian rubbed his forehead grimly, and then straightened his shoulders. “You didn’t know the boy you raised as your son was a killer when you helped him. You didn’t even know he was rogue.”
“No,” Basha assured him even though he wasn’t asking.
“You also didn’t know feeding off the hoof wasn’t allowed anymore,” he added, and she blinked, startled by just how much he did know. But he was continuing, “While that doesn’t excuse your actions, it does mitigate them.”
Basha stilled as he considered her briefly.
“We can forgive the feeding off the hoof so long as you stick to bagged blood in future.”
“I will,” she promised.
“As for the other . . .” He paused, expression unhappy, and then said solemnly, “I know this will be hard since you’ve thought of him as your son all these years, but you’ll need to help us recapture Leonius to make up for it.”
Basha was silent for a moment, her emotions in chaos. She had thought of him as her son for so long, and as such her instinct was to protect, but after all she’d learned about him . . .
Marcus squeezed her shoulders, and Basha sighed and nodded in response.
“And you’ll also have to help catch this Abaddon character who has apparently scurried back to whatever hole the two of them are hiding in,” he added.
There was no hesitation this time, Basha nodded firmly. She’d be happy to put an end to that bastard.
“Good,” Lucian said quietly. “Then come on. I made the others wait outside until I knew what was what. I’m sure they’re peeing their pants worrying over whether you’re both okay or not.”
Basha sagged back against Marcus’s chest with relief when her uncle turned away. It was a relief she knew Marcus shared. She felt the tension slide out of his hard body as his arms slid around her.
“We’re going to be okay,” he assured her.
“Yes,” Basha agreed, and found a smile to offer him as he turned her into his arms.
“No more running,” he said with a smile. “We can make a home. We’ll have family, both yours and mine, and we can have children . . . if I’m still capable,” he added wryly.
“Why wouldn’t you be capable?” Basha asked with concern.
“Well, after what you did to me with the mop . . .” Marcus paused and caught her wrists on a laugh as she realized he was teasing her and tried to smack his chest. Using his hold on her wrists, he tugged her against his chest and kissed her quickly before saying, “I love you, Basha Argeneau.”
For once, she didn’t flinch at the name, and supposed it was knowing that her father had given it to her that made the difference. She’d tried so long to deny the past and what had happened to her as a child. Denying the name had been the only way she’d known how to separate that poor abused child from the woman she wanted to be. Now though, she realized that by denying the name, she denied her father too, and everything else that connected her to the family she so dearly wanted to be a part of. Besides, little Basha had done all right. She had survived, and grown stronger. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
“I love you too, Marcus Notte,” she murmured and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him.
“Come on you two, you’re busting my balls here. Get a move on.”
Divine turned sharply toward the door, just in time to see her uncle turn and walk away. “He didn’t—?”
“He did,” Marcus said dryly.
“But he doesn’t know—”
“He knows,” Marcus assured her. “He read our minds.”
“Oh, damn,” Basha groaned. “I’m so going to get teased about that for eternity.”
“Yeah,” he agreed with a grimace as he slipped his arm around her waist to steer her to the door. “We both are. I can hear it now, uniball, one-nut, half man . . .”
“No,” Basha said at once. “They’ll know it healed. You still have two balls.”
“That won’t matter,” he assured her with a crooked smile.
“I guess we’ll have to suffer it together,” she said apologetically.
“Together we can handle anything,” Marcus assured her, and risked her uncle’s wrath to stop and kiss her again.