Retribution (65 page)

“Don't be,” Daleen insisted. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She stepped forward, straightening the chain around Layla's stomach. “Because you
are
wearing this. It's absolutely bewitching on you; the gems and silver radiate positive energy; and you're going to appreciate it later. I promise. Just try to trust me on that.”

Layla's mouth fell open, and Brietta flashed a smug smile as she walked away.
 

“You're going to make me wear it?” Layla asked. Never in a million years did she believe Daleen would force her to do something she didn't want to do.

“How about a compromise?” Morrigan offered.

“Like a bribe?” Layla countered, thrown further off balance by Morrigan's participation.

“No, sweetie,” Morrigan corrected, “a compromise.” She stepped forward, summoning a pile of shiny, white material. “We made a cloak to match. It's pure silk with fibers of silver woven into it, and it has a rainbow moonstone clasp. You can wear it until you feel comfortable taking it off.”

Layla glanced at the cloak then suspiciously eyed her grandmas. “What if I wear it all night?”

“If that's what you want to do,” Daleen answered, “that's what you'll do. We won't ask you to remove it. Here.” She took the cloak from Morrigan then helped Layla into it, fastening the clasp at her neck before pulling her long, shiny curls from the collar. “What do you think?” she asked, looking at Layla's reflection. “Better?”
 

Layla nodded as she examined the filaments of silver incorporated into the soft fibers of bright-white silk. “I can handle this,” she answered, wiggling around to make sure the outfit didn’t hinder her movement. Everything felt fine and none of it was constricting. In fact, she felt naked, like her bare body was floating in a silky cloud. “And it’s still glamorous,” she added, looking at her grandmas. She wished she could give them more, provide them with some well-deserved enthusiasm, but strutting like a proud peacock was something Brietta could pull off, and Layla would only feel foolish if she tried to do the same. “Thank you for putting so much thought into this. It's gorgeous, and I really do appreciate it.”

“We're so happy we get to do these things for you,” Daleen replied. Then she carefully swept the pads of her thumbs over her Layla’s eyes, making her long lashes sparkle. “And we're thrilled you like it.”

“That’s what’s important,” Morrigan added. “And you're all set save for one last thing.” She stepped behind her and began moving the outer layers of Layla’s curls aside. “Don't be alarmed now. I'm going to take a lock of your hair.”

“What?” Layla blurted, jerking away.

“Just a little, sweetie. You'll never know it's gone.”

Layla shook her head, looking at Morrigan like she was crazy. “Why?”

“To tie in with Quinlan's armbands.”

Layla's expression fell as her shoulders sagged, and while her eyes remained fixed, her gaze was somewhere else. “Quinlan's what?”

“The bloodstone-studded leather armbands he'll be wearing,” Morrigan explained, once again digging through spirals.

Layla didn't resist. “Blood...” she breathed, dread hitting her like a fist to the chest.

“Bloodstone,” Morrigan repeated, severing a lock of hair with magic, “the stone of the warrior.”

Morrigan kept talking, but Layla couldn’t hear her. Blood rushed past her eardrums so quickly, it sounded like she was under a waterfall. Her heart was at it again, slamming hard and fast against her ribs as her muscles went numb. Her mind flashed with an image of Quin's blanched and bleeding body, his biceps draped with charred leather bands, and her stomach churned. “Oh god,” she breathed, looking for the exit.

“What’s wrong?” Daleen asked.

Layla didn’t want to explain herself. She couldn’t, so she tried to get a grip while making her way across the tent. “Nothing,” she lied. “I just need some air.”

Her grandmothers rushed to catch up.
 

“What's going on, sweetie?” Morrigan asked. “Is this about the hair? I can fix it.”

“No. The hair's fine. Can't even tell it's gone.”

“Layla,” Daleen demanded, grabbing her arm before she could escape the tent. “What's going on?”

Layla's expression tensed as she struggled with tears. “This was an amazing experience, and I'm so thankful for it, but I… I just... I need to see Quin.”

“Oh,” Daleen whispered. “Okay. We understand.”

“Thank you. I'm sorry I'm leaving early.”

“Don't be,” Morrigan insisted. “I think you've given him plenty of time to miss you. Do you want me to mind search him for you?”

“No,” Layla refused, glancing at the sliver of light seeping between the canvas flaps. “I'll find him.”

“Okay,” Morrigan agreed. “We'll be out soon. Here,” she added, placing a long lock of hair in Layla's hand. “You'll need this.” She pulled her into a hug then forced her into Daleen's arms.

“Go,” Daleen urged.

Layla ducked out of the tent and scanned the deserted lawn. Then she turned toward the other tent, aiming to mind search Quin. But before she made the connection, she hesitated, thinking maybe she shouldn't. She couldn't properly explain herself, so her stress and worry would merely add to the weight he already carried. Besides, it would make her feel awful to pull him away just so he could be her tissue. That wasn't fair at all.

She sighed then headed for her house, fighting tears while considering her predicament. She magically picked a bouquet of roses as she walked through her garden. Then she snatched the flowers from the air and floated to her porch swing, determined to find a way to conceal her grief before Quin could see it.

Chapter 44

Quin sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, meditating on his angel and his challenge to keep her safe, while Kemble silently worked magic on his back, pondering similar notions while receiving similar treatment from Lann. When Kemble's magic paused, Quin raised his head, hoping his dad was done, but then Kemble's magic resumed, so Quin's forehead went back to his palms.

A few seconds later, Kemble’s magic paused again. “Has Layla mind searched you, son?”
 

Quin's head popped back up. “No. Why?”

“Because your mom thinks she did.”

“When? Is she not with her?”

“I'm trying to find out.” Kemble added a few finishing touches to the magical tattoo on Quin’s back then leaned away. “Layla left the tent fifteen minutes ago to find you.”

Quin shot from his seat and headed for the exit.

“Quinlan,” Kemble called, tossing him two strips of leather.
 

Quin paused long enough to catch them then flew from tent. '
Layla,
' he mentally called, scanning the empty lawn.

'
Hey,
' she called back.

His gaze shot to her porch, landing on her smiling face, and he sighed as he flew toward her, mind searching his mom and dad to let them know she was fine. He alighted in the garden and took the stairs two at a time. Then he came to a stumbling halt on the landing, staring at her with wide eyes and parted lips. He couldn’t look away. She was… heavenly. If ever a celestial being walked the earth, it was her.

Her smile widened as she ran her gaze across his bare chest and shoulders, noticing their golden sheen. “You look yummy.”

Keeping his eyes on her face, he slowly walked forward. “You look...” He had to pause, because there were no words worthy of her.

“Silly?” she offered. “Ostentatious? Like a Christmas tree? You can say it. I don't mind.”

He sat down and took her right hand, which was closed around a lock of her hair. First he scanned her shiny spirals. Then he searched every inch of her radiant face before finding her eyes. “You look beautiful, Layla. You're always beautiful, but right now you're glowing, more than usual.”

She smiled as her sparkling cheeks reddened. “It's a bit fancy, don't you think?”

“No. If it looks this good on you, it's just right.” He pulled her onto his lap, keeping his gaze on her face while stroking her warm cheek and playing with a shimmering tendril falling over it. “Why didn't you call to me?”

“Who told on me?”

“It wasn't like that.”

“I know,” she assured, looking at the bouquet of roses in her left hand. “I didn't want to cut your time short. I was going to call to you, but I didn't really need anything, so I decided to let you finish.”

He intently watched her profile for a moment. Then he looked at her aura, finding the two didn't match. “Then why didn't you stay with your grandmas?”

“I just needed some air. And like I said, I'd intended to ask you to join me, but I changed my mind at the last minute, so I decided to swing and smell the roses while I waited.”

“I see,” he mumbled, but he didn't see at all. He knew she wasn't telling him everything, but he saw no proof to back up his theory. “Were you uncomfortable with the other women?” he asked, urging her gaze to his.

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Did you know what I’d be walking in on? Because a little warning would have been nice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know they’d be sitting around naked?”

He couldn't help but smile at the visual of her walking into a tent full of naked witches. “No, I didn’t know that. I figured you'd see more flesh than you’re used to, but I didn't know they stripped and stayed that way.” His expression sobered. “Is that why you left?”

“No. It was embarrassing at first, but good ol' Bri was entertaining me before too long, and the nudity got easier to ignore. I was done getting ready before I left.” She glanced at her sparkling cloak. “I guess you could call this getting ready... if I were heading for a Halloween party or Mardi Gras. You, however, look golden and delicious.” She leaned closer, running her tongue over his shoulder. Then she stuck it out at him. “Ith it gold?” she asked with a lisp.

He laughed as he curled his fingers into her hair. Then he slowly sucked her tongue into his mouth. His kiss deepened as her arms encircled his neck, but then they heard voices drifting across the lawn, so they broke apart and looked over.

Gorgeous magicians poured out of the tents, and as the men turned toward the women, Weylin loudly whistled. Layla smiled as she watched the witches playfully strut toward the eager wizards. Then she laughed as Brietta twirled toward Kegan, landing in his arms with the panache of a comedian and the grace of a ballerina.

“They look beautiful,” Layla whispered.

“Yes they do,” Quin agreed. Then he found Layla's profile. “Did Morrigan and Daleen manage to dress you up?”

“You think
I
did all this?” she asked, flipping a silver-laden curl.
 

He laughed as he shook his head. “No, but I wasn't talking about that. Did you refuse their outfit?”

“Did you know they were making me one?”

“No, but looking at everyone else, I seriously doubt they’d leave you out. I have a feeling they did their best to get you into something more provocative than you usually wear.”

“Would it make you happy if I wore something like that?”

His expression softened as he pulled her closer. “I don't care what you wear, love. I like your clothes best when I'm taking them off.”

“So you wouldn't be disappointed if I'm wearing the same dress you last saw me in?”

“No. You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen, no matter what you're wearing.”

“Good answer,” she approved, laying her sparkly head on his shoulder.

He laughed as he nuzzled her hair, glad all the silver didn’t change its feel and scent. “I guess you're not going to answer me.”

“It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, so why bother?”

“I should have made that bet with Serafin.”

“What bet?”

“He was sure Daleen would succeed in dressing you up. When I told him I had doubts, he wanted to gamble on it. It was Daleen's stubbornness versus yours. But I didn't bite, because I wasn't sure how far you’d go to please your grandmas.”

“Hmm...” she murmured, and because of the confusing inconsistencies between her face and aura, he worried she was concerned.
 

“Layla.”

“Yeah?”

“I don't care what you're wearing under the cloak.”

“I know.”

“Good. Shall we join the others?”

“Carry me away, my thorough hero.”

“Gladly, my perfect angel.”
 

He carried her across the lawn, and as they approached the glamorous group, Layla tossed her roses into the air, transforming them into colorful butterflies. Returning her cheek to Quin's shoulder, she watched the winged creatures flutter among her loved ones, but then Quin lowered her feet to the ground.

She glanced around, finding several witches tying armbands around their wizards' biceps, and the nifty trick she'd taught herself twenty minutes ago was put to the test. And what was so damn difficult about the test was the fact that she had no way of knowing if she was succeeding. She couldn’t tell if the panic she attempted to shove into a hidden chamber of her heart exposed itself, because she couldn't see her aura. All she had was a theory, which was much like the one used to hide thoughts. She’d know soon enough if it wasn't working, because Quin was always watching her.