Deception (33 page)

Layla’s lungs and heart fluttered, ever touched by his adoration. “I'm a lucky woman to be the object of your affection, Quinlan Farrel Kavanagh.”

“And that’s why I do this,” he returned, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m going to throw together something besides junk food. Would you like to take the opportunity to call Travis and Phyllis?”

“Good thinking,” she agreed.

“Your phone is in the closet next to our bags.” He lowered her feet to the floor then gave her butt a soft pat. “Hurry, angel.”

Layla did hurry, doing her best to rush her conversations along without being obvious about it. Both Travis and Phyllis were happy to hear from her, and neither of them harassed her for not calling everyday, but Travis seemed concerned and asked more questions than usual. As their call wound down, he said something that squeezed Layla’s heart and emptied her lungs.

“Think I’ll ever see ya again, sugar?”

The question had come out of nowhere and shocked Layla to her core – reality kicking in the door to her brain. She had no idea if she’d see him again. The chances seemed slim. “Of course,” she lied. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he quietly answered. “Just a feelin’ I got.”

“Is this because I didn’t call for a couple of days?”

“No. Well, maybe that triggered it, but I don’t want ya thinkin’ ya have to call everyday. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it, Trav?”

“It’s nothin’, sugar. I’m just missin’ ya. I don’t have anything else to do now that the funeral’s outta the way and the diner’s gone.”

“Take a trip,” she suggested, hoping he wouldn’t choose Oregon. Things were too dangerous for him to be around her.

“I will,” he returned. “It’s the first thing I’m gonna do after Ma’s finances are wrapped up. I’m waiting to hear from the insurance company.”

“So start planning.”

“I would, but ya haven’t invited me yet.”

Her stomach sank. “I know,” she whispered. “But I will. As soon as things settle down. I just don’t want to make plans I can’t follow through with. Get things worked out with the insurance company then give me a call. Maybe by then I’ll have my life lined out.”

“I’m teasin’, sugar,” he laughed. “Stop tryin’ so hard to please me.”

“But I miss you, too, Trav. I really do want you to visit. It’s just a bad time. Things are… hectic.”

“I understand. And don’t call apologizin’ every time ya miss a few days. Of all the people I know, you check in on me more than the rest. Well, ’sides Phyllis. Did ya tell her to keep an eye on me or what? She’s hoverin’ like a hawk.”

“She cares about you.”

“She’s a hoot, that woman. Ya know she irons my boxers and socks?”

Layla laughed, feeling better than before. She was glad Travis and Phyllis had each other. “That’s a sure sign she loves you, Trav.”

“Or she’s bored outta her mind. I do love her cookin’, though.”

“Then let her cook. She never had kids. Maybe she’s compensating.”

“Then I guess I’ll let her.”

Layla felt eyes on her and glanced over, finding Quin in the doorway, but he wasn’t rushing her. He was leaning against the doorjamb, drinking a glass of wine as he watched her. Anxious to go to him, she hurried the phone call along. “My dinner’s ready,” she said, raising her eyebrows at Quin.

He laughed and turned away, tempting her to follow.

“Then I’ll let ya go,” Travis offered. “Talk to ya in a few days?”

“Yes,” she assured. “Be nice to Phyllis now, or you’ll have to feed yourself.”

“Oh the horror,” he groaned. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Sure thing.”

“Take care, sugar.”

“You, too,” she returned. Then she said goodbye and tossed the phone aside.

When she returned to the parlor, she found an assortment of hors d’oeuvres laid out on the coffee table next to a pile of junk food. “You have all my favorites here,” she exclaimed, seating herself on Quin’s lap.

He waited for her to get comfortable then fed her a bite. “How were your phone calls?”

“Kind of sad,” she admitted. “Travis misses me.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes, but we’re in different worlds now. I don’t know what I’d say to him even if I did get to see him.”

“You’d find something to say. Conversation comes easy with friends.”

Layla watched Quin’s eyes as she chewed and swallowed, realizing he’d never mentioned anyone outside his coven, let alone a friend. “What about your friends?”

“What about them?”

“Well, do you have any? I've been here for nine days and I haven't heard you mention one friend. And you haven't left my side long enough to see anyone else. Surely you have friends.”

“Sure,” he confirmed. “Lots of them.”

“Are there any you're closer to than the others?”

“A few. There's one I’d turn to before anyone else outside our coven, and another I’d turn to if the first wasn’t available. They’re like brothers to me, but there are many more I consider good friends.”

“What are their names? The two best friends.”

“Kegan and Weylin.”

“Do you guys get together often?”

“You could say that.”

“Have they contacted you since I've been here?”

“Kegan's called a few times.”

“Have you called him back?”

“No. I've been busy.”

She looked down, struggling to withhold a pucker. “I told you I didn’t want you changing your life for me.”

He took her chin and forced her gaze back to his. “Too late. It's already changed.”

“That's not fair to you.”

“I think it is. You're way better looking than Kegan and Weylin, and they can’t begin to do for me what you do, so don't feel guilty.”

“You shouldn't have to stop seeing your friends because I'm around.”

“I'm not,” he assured. “I'll take you to meet them sometime, and I'm sure they'll understand my brief absence as soon as they see you. They'll probably wonder why I leave the house at all now that I have you.”

“You flatter me.”

“No, love, I'm telling the truth. When my friends meet you, they'll be blown away and a bit jealous. I'll have to keep my eye on a few of them.”

“You have no competition, Quin.”

“I believe you, but that doesn't mean they will. In case you haven't noticed, our kind is a determined and confident kind. If they think they have even a tiny chance, they'll make the jump just to see how far they can fly before falling on their faces.”

“Your friends would do that to you?”

“Kegan won't. We’re a lot alike, and we’ve always had a . . . natural impulse, I guess you could say, to stay away from each other's women. Now Weylin, he's a different story. We're still close, but there are two things Weylin can't resist – women and a challenge. If he sets his sights on either, he'll throw himself into the fire. But he accepts defeat well and doesn't push his luck, so once he realizes he doesn't stand a chance, he'll back off. The others, however, wouldn't hesitate to spend the next year of their lives trying to take you away from me.”

“And you put up with that?”

“What do you mean
put up with that
? They have every right to go for what they want, and if they somehow manage to get something I have, it's my own fault. I should have held on to it tighter if I didn't want someone snatching it away.”

“So you welcome the challenge?”

“I don’t encourage it, but I expect it. That’s one reason I treat you so well. I don't want someone else tempting you into their arms instead of mine. I do what I do because it's what you deserve, and that's the only way I'll ever deserve you. If I don't treat you right, I'll lose you to someone who will. But that’s not going to happen. I'm holding on to you tighter than I've ever held anything, and when those guys take their shot at you, they’ll fail. I've devoted every second of every minute of the last nine days of my life to making sure of it.”

“So
that’s
why you haven’t mentioned them,” she teased. “You wanted time to butter me up.”

He laughed as he fed her another bite. “Damn straight. And if any of them do decide they want to challenge me, they better prepare for a dirty fight.”

Layla swallowed, surprised by the flood of longing released by his macho remark. She never thought of herself as the kind of girl who’d get off on the idea of a man fighting over her, but sure enough, her nipples had grown hard and her thighs twitched.

Quin noticed and laughed as he tapped her nose. “You like that, huh?”

“Stop,” she objected, burying her hot face in his neck.

He laughed again as he stroked her hair. “It’s natural, love, and nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t want you fighting over me,” she clarified. “It’s just the idea that you would.”

“I know,” he assured, “and I would. I’d fight the Heavens if they tried to take you from me.”

She stayed silent for a moment then pulled her face from his neck. “Do they really exist, Quin?”

“Who?”

“The Heavens? The gods and goddesses?”

“Yes. Why would we talk about them if they didn’t exist?”

“But how do you know?”

“That question deserves a thoughtful explanation, and I’m really tired. May we talk about it another day? I promise your soul isn’t on the line.”

Her mouth fell open. “Oh my god. You haven’t slept.”

“No,” he confessed.

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her guilt. “I'm so sorry, Quin. I should have considered… I should have known.”

“Don't be sorry. I needed to stay awake, but now that you’re well, it’s catching up with me.”

“Then let's finish eating and go to bed.” She gave him a bite then took one herself, mumbling as she chewed. “I can’t believe you haven’t slept.”

After getting their fill and cleaning their mess, they headed for separate bathrooms. Layla rushed through the task, trying to beat him to bed, but to no avail. He was lying there waiting for her when she exited the bathroom.

“I win,” he teased.

She laughed as she floated to the bed and lay down beside him. Then she trailed her fingers down his bare torso. “So, since we don't have to worry about running out in the middle of the night, do I get to sleep without my shirt?”

“Sure,” he approved, vanishing her t-shirt. Then he rested his palm on her stomach. “If that’s what you want.”

She detected hesitancy in both his stare and touch, so she took his hand and pulled it to her heart. “That's definitely what I want.” After a few solid heartbeats, she slid his palm to one of her breasts. “What I don’t want, is for you to feel like you can't look at me and touch me. I know I get embarrassed, and I know my body’s been through hell lately, but none of that changes the fact that I love your touch. It's never let me down, and it’s always welcome.”

He slid his thumb over her cleavage and buried his face in her hair. “You're an angel, Layla.”

“I'm not,” she disagreed, wiggling closer.

He abandoned her hair and breast, letting her cuddle into a hug. “Yes you are. You could lose your halo and sprout horns and you'd still be my angel.”

She laughed as she looked up, finding him watching her through heavy lids. A mere twenty-four hours earlier, she thought she’d never see that sexy, dark stare again. “I love you, Quin.”

“I love you, too, Layla. Ready to tuck in?”

“More than ready.”

He leaned in for a long, soft kiss. Then he opened his arms and let her curl into his chest. They both sighed as he buried his face in her hair, and less than five minutes later they were reunited in vivid dreams.

Chapter 22

A high-pitched scream followed Guthrie from the tent, but the shriek didn’t pierce his icy exterior. The damn soothsayer was worthless and deserved the torture he was enduring for calling himself such. He’d been at it for five hours and hadn’t received one vision pertaining to the witch and her family.

Guthrie paused near a fire and summoned a bowl, filling it with soup from a cast iron cauldron. Inhaling traces of garlic and onion, he sat on a nearby log and started gulping down the sustenance. Who knew how long it would be before he’d get another meal.

“What’s all the racket?” a gruff voice asked.

Guthrie glanced over his shoulder, finding a seasoned soldier sitting against a tree trunk. Guthrie didn’t know the man’s given name; everyone just called him Slick. He’d been part of the Dark Elite longer than Guthrie and had seen his fair share of injuries. He was nursing one now – his left forearm, which was scorched during Agro’s rage the night before. Without a decent healer around – their best had fallen during the rage – Slick’s raw and swollen arm still bubbled with blisters.

“Soothsayer,” Guthrie answered, looking from the burnt flesh to the steaming soup. “Agro’s trying to torture visions from him.”

“Ahh,” Slick mumbled. “Serves the dumb-ass right. He shouldn’t have raised his hand when the boss asked for soothsayers. Probably thought he’d get special treatment if he could manage a half-ass omen.”