Retribution (23 page)

Read Retribution Online

Authors: B. C. Burgess

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #New Adult & College, #Angels, #Witches & Wizards, #Paranormal & Urban

BOOK: Retribution
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“Yes it was,” Alana agreed, raising a small palm to Layla’s cheek. “Thank you fowr taking me.”

“You're welcome, angel. Maybe we'll get to go again someday.”
 

The word
someday
landed on Quin’s heart like a sledgehammer, and he closed his eyes while taking a deep breath. When he returned his gaze to Layla, her aura had grown darker, and he could feel her pain as surely as he felt the wind on his face. Walking toward her, he said her name, but she ignored him.

“You know what would be fun?” she asked, searching out Brietta and Skyla, who stared back in sad confusion.

Quin wrapped one arm around Layla’s shoulders, and her aura expanded, making several people gasp as Quin’s arm fell away, his heart and ego bruised. He, of all people, should be able to offer her comfort.

Still ignoring the world and its troubles, Layla walked to Brietta and Skyla and took their hands, leading them away from the others. Facing the lake, she released Skyla and swept a palm through the air, and a vibrant rainbow sprouted from the ground, rising steeply then arching toward the bottom of the slope. The colorful mist landed at the edge of the lake before climbing back up. Then it came to a halt halfway over the water.

Taking Skyla's hand back, Layla glanced between her and Brietta. “Ready?”

“For what?” Brietta asked.

Layla looked to the rainbow, her smile trembling as she blinked back tears. “To run.”

She took off, and her firm grip on Brietta and Skyla forced them to run with her. When they reached the rainbow, their feet found stability upon the translucent mist, so they continued up one side of the spell.

Grant stepped forward and paused beside Quin. “Does she always handle bad news so well?”

Agitated and tense, Quin shook his head as he walked toward the rainbow. “She’s losing it.”

The three witches reached the peak of the rainbow then leapt for the other side, landing on their butts as they slid into the curve at the water's edge. They had so much momentum, they flew right up the other side, and Quin shivered as a chill ran down his spine. He didn’t understand why, but every muscle in his body flexed as he poised to move.

Reaching the end of the rainbow, Brietta and Skyla took flight, but Layla dropped like a stone toward the icy lake.

Quin was halfway down the slope before Layla’s name burst from his chest, but she was winning the race and only a few yards from plunging into the lake. Bending his knees, he made a soaring leap, and his arm hooked her waist as her feet disappeared beneath the water’s surface. His feet went under as well, but he ignored the icy shock and flew higher, flipping her into a cradle hold so he could search her face. Tears flowed from her wide eyes, soaking her flushed cheeks, but she seemed alert and unharmed.

“What in the hell were you thinking?” he scolded, drying her feet and calves.

Layla had no idea what she was thinking. Falling just seemed like the thing to do, like maybe all the terror would disappear when the icy water struck. Maybe physical agony would numb the pain in her heart. Or maybe she was going crazy and thought a bone-chilling dip would bring her back to her senses. But she didn’t tell him any of this, and she couldn’t find any guilt or embarrassment about the senseless fall. All that was left was hopelessness, so she buried her face in her hands and cried.

“Shit,” Quin sighed, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tucking her face in his neck, he flew to the others. “Who's going back to watch Agro?”

“I am,” Lann answered.

Quin walked over and concealed his grandpa’s body and aura with one hand. Then he concealed himself and Layla. “We're going home,” he announced, and before anyone could protest, he shot into the air.

Chapter 15

On the way home, Layla cried while Quin searched for solutions, but none of his ideas could conquer an army of ruthless killers.

He landed on their deserted lawn and looked around, making sure the enemy hadn’t dropped in. Then he released his concealment spells and carried Layla home. Bypassing the bedroom, he climbed to the turret room and sat on the sofa, hoping the bright room would improve their moods. If any two people needed light shed on a situation, it was them.
 

Several tense and silent minutes passed before her sobs quieted, and if her aura hadn't been so active, he would have thought she'd fallen asleep. But she was wide awake and filled with dread.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” she squeaked.

Fresh tears moistened his neck, and his entire body contracted, like his skin was shrinking, smothering and crushing his insides. Vanishing her cloak, he worked his fingers into her hair and forced her face from his throat. “It rips my heart open to see you like this.”

“I'm sorry, Quin. I don't know how to fix it. I'm so scared for us, and for everyone else.”

“I know, but I'll not die with regret in my heart. Remember? Live every moment like it’s our last and fight for what we love. That’s what we’re doing.”

“We can't lead our family into a losing fight, Quin. That will put regret in my heart.”

“I understand, but your grandparents and my parents won't let us to do this alone, no matter how slim our chances are. That would put regret in their hearts.”

“I don't want that either.”

Her pout quivered as more tears threatened to spill, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, desperate to make the depression go away. Their lives were too risky to spend them in sorrow.

His gaze landed on the guitar across the room, and he raised an eyebrow, wondering if her soul was too bruised to be soothed by the tried-and-true method of music. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

“I wrote you a song.”

Her forehead creased beneath his lips. “Just now?”

“No, over the past few weeks. I started it the night you got here.”

“Really? Like… a poem?”

“Sure, but song sounds better. It’s the rock stars who make the panties drop, right?”

She smirked. “I hear poets get plenty of action.”

His heart lightened as he shifted her to one leg and summoned the guitar. “How about guitarist? What do they get?”

“You
play
, too?”

“A little. Would you like me to teach you?”

Her chest deflated as she laid her head on his shoulder. “We don’t have time.”

“Sure we do,” he disagreed, laying the guitar across their laps. “Put your fingers over mine so you can get a feel for the chords, and I’ll use your hand to strum. We need a pick… hold on.” He closed his eyes and summoned a pick from his house. “Here, we don’t want to damage those beautiful nails.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Quin.” Nevertheless, she hovered the pick over the strings and molded her left hand to the back of his.

“You’re going to help me play your song,” he replied, magically tuning the guitar.

She turned her head, finding his cheek with her lips. “You really wrote me a song?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you already shared it with me?”

“I didn’t write it to impress you.”

“Why did you write it?”

“Because I was lying there, watching you experience your parents’ memories while thinking about how I felt about you, and the words came, but I didn’t finish it that night. I knew there was more.”

“That’s sweet.”

“That’s the truth, as sappy as it sounds. Ready?”

“Yes.”

He took the back of her right hand and urged her to strum. Then his fingers began moving along the fret board, testing out a tune. “See? Easy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Layla countered, watching his fingers compensate for her clumsy strumming. She wanted to tell him she’d learn to play so she could write
him
a song, but there wasn't time. The end was closing in on them faster than ever. “Did you write the music, too?”

“I had a tune in mind, but this is the first time I’ve played it, so there are a few kinks to work out.”

“I like it.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“So you write, play
and
sing. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I can’t seem to cheer up my angel.”

“I’m sorry, Quin. I’m trying.”

“I know, love, and don’t be sorry. Just meet me halfway.”

They kept repeating the tune over and over again, tweaking it a little each time, and soon their haphazard composition sounded like a catchy song. Layla had the rhythm memorized and was strumming on her own, and he’d worked out the kinks in his notes while fine-tuning the strings.

Nuzzling through her hair, he whispered in her ear. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty.”

“Ready for the words?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to strum through a refrain. Then he began singing in a deep, heart-melting voice.

“Eyes of emerald and a heart of gold;

soft, rose lips and treasures untold.

This is the woman for whom I fell.

This is my love,

my sweet angel.

Soul so pure, none can compare.

My lovely lady, so precious and rare.

My heart soars when she speaks my name.

Her beautiful smile will do the same.

All that she does she does so well,

my perfect love,

my sweet angel.

She captured my heart and holds it tight.

When she's in my arms the world is right.

Whatever may come, I will conquer with pride

as long as my love is by my side.

She gives me strength to face the day.

Wherever she is, my heart will stay.

My love for her will never fail.

She has it forever,

my sweet angel.”

He took her hand and helped her strum the final chord. Then he waited for the note to stop echoing through the room before kissing her ear. Tingles slid down her neck to her throbbing heart, and her chest quaked as tears filled her eyes. “That was beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m an emotional wreck,” she corrected.

He nibbled on her ear while sending the guitar to its base. Then he picked her up and turned her around, parting her legs around his waist. “You’re my emotional wreck, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I make you sad.”

“No. This situation makes me sad. You make my heart beat.” He slid one shoulder of her dress down, exposing the left side of her chest. Then he cupped her breast while drifting his thumb over her heart. “I know yours is sore right now, but I’ll fix it.”

She swallowed a lump while blinking back tears. “How? Because usually, when you touch me like this, the rest of the world slips away and I'm in heaven. It’s been that way from the beginning, but it’s not that way now, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

He flashed a grin and raised his eyebrows. “Good thing you got me.”

She gasped as he picked her up and practically tossed her onto the couch beside him. Then the room dimmed as shades fell over the windows. In the time it took her to glance around, he’d moved between her legs and leaned over her, but they still had clothes on, and only their thighs touched.

“I’m afraid it won’t be so simple this time,” she whispered, trying hard not to fidget, but she was tense and guilty and uncomfortable.

“I’m up to the challenge,” he returned, lowering his lips within inches of hers.

Usually this would catch her breath as she anticipated his kiss, but at the moment, she was doing her best not to squirm.

Bracing himself with one hand, he found the buttons running down the front of her dress and unfastened the top three. Her breasts spilled out, and as cool air rushed over them, she pulled her arms in to cover herself. He let her, and he still hadn’t kissed her.

She glanced between his face and aura, wondering if her rigidness upset him, but he seemed calm and patient and prepared for the challenge, just as he’d claimed. Layla didn’t want to be his challenge; she didn’t want to be chased. She got enough of that from the people hunting her. With Quin, she wanted it to be easy. She wanted to be putty in his hands, but she felt more like a rock weighing him down.

Her throat swelled as she squeezed her eyes shut, and he gently swept his fingers down her face before tilting her head to the side. His lips found her neck, and his magical warmth spread through her tense body.

The heat didn’t relax her, but it made her feel more comfortable with her exposed breasts, so she let her arms slide away.

“There you go,” he approved.

She tried not to flinch as she awaited his touch, but when he moved his hand from her jaw, he slid it to her heart instead of her breasts. His fingers stretched as his mouth found the pulse in her neck, and the tingles she’d been missing shot from his lips, zipping through her chest to his hand.

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