Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (78 page)

“I’m doing well enough. But thank you.”

“Well, you let me know, okay.”

“You are a very decent fellow, Qhuinn, you know that?”

Qhuinn’s heart stopped, and then beat hard. That was the phrase that their father had always used

to describe gentlemales…it was the A-plus of compliments, the top of the pile, the equivalent of a

bear hug and a high five from a normal guy.

“Thanks, man,” he said roughly. “You, too.”

“How can you say that?” Luchas cleared his throat. “How in the name of the Virgin Scribe can

you say that?”

Qhuinn exhaled hard. “You want the bottom line? Well, I’ll give you it. You were the favorite. I

was the curse—we were on opposite ends of the scale in that household. But neither one of us had a

chance. You were no more free than I was. You had no choice about your future—it was

predetermined at birth, and in a way, my eyes? They were my get-out-of-jail, because it meant he

didn’t care about me. Did he fuck me over? Yeah, but at least I got to decide what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go. You…never had a fucking chance. You were nothing but a math equation

already solved when you were conceived, all the answers predetermined.”

Luchas closed those lids again and shuddered. “I keep running it through my head. All those years

growing up, from my first memory…to the last thing I saw that night when…” He coughed a little, like his chest hurt, or maybe his heart rhythm went wonky. “I hated him. Did you know that?”

“No. But I can’t say it surprises me.”

“I don’t want to go back in that house again.”

“Then you don’t have to. But if you do…I’ll go with you.”

Luchas looked over once again. “Really?”

Qhuinn nodded his head. Even though he was in no hurry to walk through those rooms and dance

with the ghosts of the past, he would go there if Luchas did.

Two survivors, back to the scene of crimes that had defined them.

“Yeah. Really.”

Luchas smiled a little, the expression nothing close to what he’d used to sport. And that was okay.

Qhuinn liked it much better. It was honest. Fragile, but honest.

“I’ll see you soon,” Qhuinn said.

“That would be…very nice.”

Turning away, Qhuinn pushed open the door, and—

Blay was waiting for him out in the corridor, smoking a cigarette as he sat on the floor.

As Qhuinn came out of his brother’s room, Blay got to his feet and stabbed his Dunhill out on the lip of the drink he’d been nursing. He wasn’t sure what he expected the fighter to look like, but it hadn’t been this: So tense and unhappy, in spite of the incredible honor he’d been paid. Then again, spending time at your brother’s bedside was hardly a joyous occasion.

And Blay wasn’t stupid. Saxton was back in the house.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said, when the other male didn’t even offer a hello.

In fact, Qhuinn’s blue and green stare went around the corridor, hitting pretty much everything

except him.

“So, ah, how’s your brother?” he prompted.

“Alive.”

Guess that was the best they could hope for right now.

And guess that was all Qhuinn intended to say. Maybe he shouldn’t have come down here. “I, ah, I

wanted to say congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Okay, Qhuinn still wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the guy was focused in the direction of the

office, like in his mind he’d already walked down to the damn thing and put that closet full of paper supplies to good use—

The sound of Qhuinn cracking his knuckles was loud as gunshots. Then he flexed his hands,

spreading the fingers as if they hurt.

“So it’s historic.” Blay went to take another cigarette out of his pack, and stopped himself. “A

real first.”

“Been a lot firsts around here lately,” Qhuinn said with an edge.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It really isn’t relevant.”

Christ, Blay thought, he shouldn’t have done this. “Can you look at me? I mean, would it fucking

kill you to look at me?”

Those mismatched eyes shot around. “Oh, I saw you, all right. Guess your man’s home. You gonna

tell him you fucked me while he was gone? Or you gonna keep that a dirty little secret. Yeah,

shhhhhhh, don’t tell my cousin.”

Blay gritted his teeth. “You sanctimonious son of a bitch.”

“Excuse me, I’m not the one with a boyfriend—”

“You are actually going to stand here and pretend you were all out in the open about us? Like

when Vishous came out of that room”—he jabbed his forefinger across the hall—“you didn’t jump up

like your ass was on fire? You want to pretend that you were all proud that you were fucking a guy?”

Qhuinn seemed momentarily stunned. “You think that was why? And not, oh, lemme think, trying

to respect the fact that you were
cheating
on the love of your life!”

By this point, they were both jacked forward on their hips, their voices careening up and down the

corridor.

“Oh, bull
shit
.” Blay slashed his hand through the air. “That is such total bullshit! See, this has
always
been your problem. You’ve never wanted to come out—”

“Come out? Like I’m gay?!”

“You fuck men! What the good goddamn do you think it means!”

“That is
you
—
you
fuck guys. You don’t like women and females—”

“You have
never
been able to accept who you are,” Blay bellowed, “because you’re afraid of

what people think! The great iconoclast, Mr. Pierced, crippled by his fucking family! The truth is, you’re a pussy and you always have been!”

Qhuinn’s expression was one of absolute fury, to the point that Blay was ready to get hit—and

hell, he wanted to have a punch thrown at him just so he could have the pleasure of corking the guy back.

“Let’s get this straight,” Qhuinn barked. “You keep your shit on
your
side of the aisle. And that includes my cousin and the fact that you fucked around on him.”

Blay threw up his hands and had to pace before he jumped out of his own skin. “I just can’t stand

this anymore. I can’t take this with you again. I feel like I’ve spent a lifetime dealing with your shit

—”

“If I’m gay, why are you the only male I’ve ever been with!”

Blay stopped dead and just stared over at the guy, images of all those men in bathrooms filtering

through his brain. For the love of all that was holy, he remembered each and every one of them, even though Qhuinn no doubt didn’t. Their faces. Their bodies. Their orgasms.

All getting what he’d been desperate for, and denied.

“How dare you,” he said. “How fucking
dare
you. Or do you think I don’t know your sexual

history? I had to watch it for far longer than I cared for. Frankly, it wasn’t that interesting—and neither are you.”

As Qhuinn blanched, Blay started to shake his head. “I’m so done. I’m
so
over this—the fact that you can’t accept yourself is going to fuck up what’s left of your life, but that’s your issue, not mine.”

Qhuinn cursed long and low. “I never thought I’d say this…but you don’t know me.”

“I don’t know you? I think the shoe’s on the other foot, asshole. You don’t know
yourself
.”

At that, he expected some kind of explosion, some theatrical, over-the-top, light-up-the-world

emotion to roll out of the guy.

He didn’t get it.

Qhuinn just set his shoulders, leveled his chin, and spoke with control. “I’ve spent the last year

trying to figure out who I am, dropping the act, getting clean—”

“Then I say you’ve wasted three hundred and sixty-five nights. But like everything about this,

that’s on you.”

With a vicious curse, Blay turned and strode away—and he didn’t look back. No reason to. There

wasn’t anyone in the corridor he wanted to see.

Man, if the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a

different result, then he’d lost his marbles years ago. For his mental health, his emotional well-being, and his very life, he needed to put this all—

Qhuinn hauled him around by the arm, the guy’s furious face shoving into his own. “Don’t you

walk away from me like that.”

Blay felt a wave of exhaustion tackle him. “Why. Because you have something else to say? Some

insight into yourself that’s supposed to put the puzzle pieces together in a way that fits? Some big confession that’s going to right the ship and make everything sunset-on-the-beach perfect? You don’t have that kind of vocabulary, and I’m not that naive anymore.”

“I want you to remember something,” Qhuinn growled. “I tried to make this work between us. I

gave us a shot.”

Blay’s mouth dropped open. “You gave us a
shot
? Are you fucking
kidding
me? You think having sex with me as a way to get back at your cousin is a relationship? You think a couple of sessions in secret is some kind of love affair?”

“It was all I had to work with.” Those mismatched eyes raked around Blay’s face. “I’m not saying

it was a grand romance, but I showed up because I wanted to be with you any way I could.”

“Well, congratulations. And now that we’ve both sampled the goods, I can solidly say that you

and I are not meant to be together.” As Qhuinn started cursing up a storm, Blay shoved a hand into his hair and wanted to rip the shit out of his head. “Listen, if it helps you sleep during the day—and I can’t believe this is really going to bother you for longer than a night—tell yourself you did what you could, but it didn’t work out. Myself? I prefer reality. What happened between you and me is exactly what you’ve done with all the other randoms you’ve been with. Sex—just sex. And now we’re done.”

Qhuinn’s eyes burned. “You’ve got me wrong on this.”

“Then you’re delusional as well as in denial.”

“People can change. I’m not like that anymore, and certainly not with you.”

God…it was a sad relief to feel nothing as those words were spoken to him. “You know…there

was a time when I would have fallen to your feet to hear something like that,” he murmured. “But

now…all I see is you jumping up from the floor the second someone came out a door and saw us

together. You say that reaction is because of Saxton’s and my relationship? Fine. But I’m really

sure…no, I’m
totally
sure…that if you scratch the surface on that, you’re going to discover it had much more to do with you rather than your cousin. You’ve hated yourself for so many years, I don’t

think it’s possible for you to really love anybody or have any sense of who you are. I hope you figure it out sometime, but I’m not going to be part of that Lewis and Clark—I promise you.”

Qhuinn shook his head, his frown so deep it looked like a gully had grown between his brows.

“Guess you’ve got me sewn up tight.”

“It’s really not that hard.”

“Just so you know, I was in love with you.”

“For three days, Qhuinn. Three days. During which there was enough drama going on to make

War and Peace
looked like a comic book. That’s not love. That’s good sex as a distraction from life being a shithole.”

“I’m not gay.”

“Fine. You’re bi. You’re bi-curious. You’re experimenting. Whatever. I don’t care. I really don’t.

I know who I am and that’s how I get through my life. You’ve got another drill going entirely—and

good luck with that. It’s clearly working
so
fucking well for you.”

With that, he walked away again.

And this time…Qhuinn let him go.

SEVENTY-FIVE

ONE WEEK LATER…

Where in life resumed its normal course, Qhuinn thought as he pulled his leathers up his

thighs, yanked a muscle shirt on over his head, and grabbed his weapons and his leather

jacket.

God, he couldn’t believe just seven nights ago he was inducted into the Brotherhood.

Seemed liked forever.

Leaving his room, he stalked down past the marble statuary, went by Wrath’s study, and knocked

on Layla’s door.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he said he went inside. “How you doing?”

“I’m great.” Layla shoved herself up higher on her stack of pillows and then rubbed her belly.

“Make that,
we’re
great—Doc Jane was just here. Levels look perfect, and I’m sticking with ginger ale and saltines, so I’m good.”

“You should have some protein, no?” Shit, he didn’t want that to sound like a demand. “Not that

I’m telling you what to eat.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. As a matter of fact, Fritz poached some chicken breasts for me and it stayed

down, so I’ll be trying to do that every day, too. As long as food doesn’t taste like much, I can

stomach it.”

“Do you need anything?”

Layla’s eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

“Talk to me.”

Qhuinn jacked his brows up. “About?”

“You.” She let out an exasperated curse, tossing the magazine she’d been reading to the side.

“What is going on? You’re dragging around, you aren’t talking to anybody, and everyone is worried.”

Everyone. Fantastic. Why the hell didn’t he live alone?

“I’m fine—”

“You’re fine. Right. Uh-huh.”

Qhuinn held his hands out in quasi-submission. “Hey, come on, what do you want me to say? I get

up, I go to work, I come home—you’re doing well and so is the young. Luchas is slowly recovering.

I’m in the Brotherhood. Life is great.”

“Then why do you look like you’re in mourning, Qhuinn.”

He had to glance away. “I’m not. Listen, I’ve got to go grab something to eat before I—”

“Doyoustillwanttheyoung.”

Layla’s words came out so fast, his brain had to work to decipher what she’d said. And then he—

“
What?
”

As her hands started to tangle in that way they did when she was nervous, he went over to the bed