“—glad you’re here with me.”

Blay forced himself back into focus. And as he did, he felt Qhuinn’s lips press to his forehead with incredible gentleness. When the male eased back, their eyes met and held.

You may not be holding me responsible, Blay thought to himself. But I cannot forgive myself.

“I didn’t want any of this for your brother,” he said sadly. “I only knew him from afar, as you know. I mean, my family was not on the same level of yours socially—”

“My parents’ level, you mean. I wasn’t on their level, either.”

Blay shook his head. “You’re better than all of them.”

“You’re biased.”

“Not even close.” Blay ran his fingertips over the envelope on Qhuinn’s chest. “And when it came to Luchas, I believe he was a product of his environment, but he wasn’t bad through and through. Some in the glymera were. He was not.”

“He was the one who stopped the Honor Guard from killing me that night I was jumped. He was with them, and he made them quit the beating. Otherwise, I would have died in the middle of that road.”

Blay frowned. “Your family sent him as part of . . . but of course they would have. He was the firstborn son.”

“So having him be a part of it was the best way for them to save even more face after they banished me from the house and removed me from the family bloodline. It proved how serious they were.” Qhuinn frowned. “And you know, I’ve been wondering about something. That black robe Luchas had been wearing? I’ve never known him to have one or wear one before. But somehow he got his hands on it—and I think he wore it because of his guilt over his role in the Honor Guard.”

“Did he ever talk to you about that night?”

“He said he was sorry, of course. But I didn’t know it was still a thing for him . . . I mean, he clearly saw Lash and the lessers as his own version of what he did to me. That had to be the reason he was in that robe. But I wish he hadn’t tortured himself so.”

Blay nodded. And then said, “Are you going back to your old house? Like he asked?”

“I don’t know.” Qhuinn frowned and shook his head. “I mean, of course I am. It’s just going to be fucked up to be there. I wonder what it looks like now.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“It’s too close to dawn now. And aren’t you on tomorrow night?”

“I am, but I’m sure I can get someone to cover.”

Qhuinn’s brows lowered. “I want to return to work. I asked Tohr. He said I needed to be cleared.”

“Medically? Oh, right. Mary.”

“Yeah.”

Blay wasn’t going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole—and as much as he wanted to support his mate, he didn’t disagree with the necessity of a mental health check-in. But there was no reason to bring all that up.

“What can I do to help you?” he said instead.

“You already are. Just by being here.” As Qhuinn yawned, the male’s jaw cracked, and then there was a long exhale. “I’m suddenly exhausted.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep?”

“Are you tired?”

These were simple questions, simple replies, everyday/every-night stuff. And like the proximity, physical and otherwise, the normal was something to be grateful for, especially as Qhuinn mumbled something about food: He wasn’t ready to go down to Last Meal yet, but maybe after a little nap, they could order something from the kitchen? Or at least that’s what Blay thought his mate was saying.

“Yes, absolutely,” he murmured in response. “And let me get off your shoulder, it’s going to go numb.”

Lifting his head, he repositioned the heavy arm he’d been leaning on. As he arranged the limb down at Qhuinn’s side and the male didn’t move, Blay was reminded of the times he’d found Rhamp in a tangle in his crib, face mashed up against the slats, butt in the air, one arm kinked under his body.

As he brought over the pillow he usually used and crammed it under his ear, he stared at Qhuinn.

And worried about what Luchas had tucked away.

If there was one thing Blay had learned about life in Caldwell, there was always another shoe to drop. And a lot of times, it landed on your head.

Hands.

Hands were moving over Blay’s body.

Wait . . . maybe it was only one. And he knew whose it was.

His and Qhuinn’s bedroom was dark, the lights having been willed off at some point, and Blay was lying on his stomach. Next to him, Qhuinn was on his side . . . and the male’s sensuous palm was traveling across Blay’s lower back and sneaking around his opposite hip. With a groan, Blay rolled to his side, his ass finding the front of Qhuinn’s pelvis—and the erection that was there.

Maybe this was a dream.

Maybe this . . . which he’d missed for so long . . . was just something his mind had constructed out of sad desperation—

“Is this okay,” Qhuinn said in his ear.

“Oh, God . . .” Blay arched back and rubbed against that arousal. “Please.”

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“So did I.”

They were both fully clothed and lying on top of the covers—where they had been when Qhuinn had meant to take a catnap, and Blay had intended on staying awake and worrying about things he couldn’t change. No more sleeping now, though.

And for the very best reason.

As Qhuinn arched over, all bonded male, his lips brushed the side of Blay’s neck, and then came the fangs, slowly going up his jugular. Twisting his torso, Blay turned his head—and then they were kissing proper, all tongues, and moaning, and breath coming fast . . . while that hand, oh, that hand, found Blay’s erection and started to stroke over the fly of his slacks.

Overcome, Blay reared back once again, grinding his ass on Qhuinn until the male cursed low.

“I’m supposed to take it slow,” Qhuinn grunted.

“Says who?”

“Oh . . . fuck . . .”

The next thing Blay knew, he was being handled roughly—the way he liked. He was shoved on his back, and then Qhuinn straddled his hips, the male’s massive body looming in the darkness. With an erotic surge, Blay willed on a lamp across the room, and he was not disappointed with what he saw. His mate was fully aroused, Qhuinn’s eyes burning, his face flushed, his huge shoulders blocking out the illumination.

Oh, and then there was the erection tenting up the front of his track bottoms.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Qhuinn growled.

Blay’s eyes rolled back. “Now. God, now—”

Harsh hands all but demolished his Hermès belt as the thing was whipped out of its loops. And then his fly was treated with no better regard, dragged down roughly with a jerk.

“Do you give a shit about these pants?” Qhuinn asked harshly.

Actually, they were Blay’s favorite pair. He’d put them on to cheer himself up. “Not at all—”

Qhuinn’s hands clamped on the two sides and he yanked the front apart, the fabric tearing—

Before Blay could start begging, Qhuinn’s mouth was right where he wanted it to be, the male sucking his cock, head going up and down, massive arms bowed out on either side. Blay splayed his legs wide and dug his hands into that thick black-and-purple hair. Pumping his hips, he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pleasure.

Like the reconciliation and the letter-reading, he hadn’t expected this. And one thing continued to be true. Sex with his mate was the great eraser. Even with how scrambled his brain was, this made everything recede. All he knew was Qhuinn.

Well, Qhuinn’s mouth, specifically.

Popping his lids, Blay lifted his head. His shirt was all wedged up his abs, his pants were nothing but the leg parts, and his mate was—

Blay let out an animalistic sound as Qhuinn’s mouth retracted and the tip of Blay’s erection popped out from between those lips. Then it was a case of that tongue extending and that piercing flashing silver in the low light. The flicking was unbelievable, every slip and tickle going through to Blay’s sac.

He didn’t last long.

And that was clearly his lover’s plan. Qhuinn opened wide and sucked it all down, taking the shaft and the head, the orgasms, everything. After the release was over? Blay’s hips kept pumping into that mouth, over and over again.

Until it was suddenly a very different position.

Without warning, Qhuinn flipped him over onto his stomach, dragged his hips up, and—

The contact was wet and slick, and Blay totally fucking lost it. And then the penetration—deep and thick, plunging in and retreating. Driving in again. Pulling out.

Faster, harder, as Blay kicked the pillows out of the way and bore down into the sex, giving it all up to his mate. To keep himself in place as the onslaught intensified, he gripped the edge of the headboard and worked with the rhythm, hanging on and then pushing back, and hanging on and pushing back.

The smell of dark spices thickened the air, and sweat slicked his body, and the bed was banging, and—

Oops, bedside lamp was on the floor. Fortunately, there wasn’t a crash as it landed on the pillows he’d evicted. It also wasn’t the one Blay had turned on.

Qhuinn started to growl, and the smacking sounds behind Blay’s body got louder, everything going next level. And then his mate started to come, Qhuinn’s hips locking in, his cock kicking deep, everything slipping into perfect, blissful alignment.

As Blay closed his eyes and felt his mate’s fangs sink into his shoulder . . . he prayed that this lasted. All of it.

Forever.

And yet even as he reveled in the releases, he still feared the future.

Find a way to cope.

As Qhuinn stepped out of the Brotherhood’s mansion the following evening, that was his mantra. He’d been saying the words over and over again to himself, ever since he’d woken up, naked and sated, in his mate’s arms. By mutual agreement, Blay had stayed on rotation, and after they’d eaten First Meal in their room, Blay had left along with the other brothers to go out into the field.