Obsidian Flame (47 page)

Okay, you’ve looked at him long enough.

She shot her gaze to Thorne. He lifted a brow at her.

Sorry. Guess I was staring. He really could be a model.

Yeah, so stop looking.

Jealous?

Hell, yeah, especially in this room.

Thorne looked away. Generally, it wasn’t polite to hold telepathic conversations while in company. “Shall I give Leto and Grace a shout and bring them here? All in favor, say aye.” It was unanimous.

Thorne drew his phone from the pocket of his slacks. Not jeans this time, but tailored dark gray slacks and Italian loafers. His shirt was made of fine cotton in a blue-green that enhanced those particular shades of his hazel eyes. Damn, he was handsome. Helena made a kind of cooing noise in her sleep and Marguerite murmured, “Exactly. But you just wait. Your day will come and then you’ll understand.”

The baby huffed a short dreamy sigh.

Thorne frowned as he said, “He’s worse?” Pause. “Shit. But he still wants to come?”

Marguerite was just far enough away that she couldn’t quite hear Grace on the other end. She had strong, vampire hearing, but it wasn’t that strong.

Thorne hung up. “Grace wants everyone to know that Leto’s in bad shape, and the fold will make it worse, so be prepared.” He glanced at the couch. “He’ll need to lie down.”

Everyone rose as if on cue, even Zach who practically launched off the floor.

Parisa spoke to Antony. The next moment a blanket appeared on the couch, a very soft beige fleece, as well as a couple of pillows.

Thorne called out to Luken, “Carla’s sending them into the foyer. He might need assistance.”

“Got it, boss.” Luken was right there so he immediately moved into the adjoining room.

A moment later Luken cried out a resounding, “Fuck, is he even still alive?”

Marguerite stayed put because of the baby, but otherwise there was a mad rush to the doorway, which meant that it was one major traffic jam. Everyone had to retrace their steps and resettle in different parts of the living room once more.

Luken had Leto’s arm around his neck, his other around his waist, as he all but carried him to the couch. The vampire was pale and hollow-eyed. Grace followed behind, her expression calm, even dignified. Her lips, however, were pressed tightly together. She still wore the Convent gown, maybe thinking she would return after all this got settled.

Thorne joined her by the couch. “How’s he doin’?”

“Not well. He was barely holding his own before the fold. He’s going downhill fast, even though I’ve fed him twice.” She shook her head and her voice trembled. “Once we arrived … he collapsed.”

Thorne put his arm around Grace, and she turned into him until he held her tight in both arms. He turned slightly and met Marguerite’s gaze over his sister’s head.

Marguerite felt for all of them. Maybe she wasn’t the most sympathetic person in the world, but she loved Grace and she loved Thorne and from everything she’d heard, Leto didn’t deserve his present suffering despite his service to Greaves.

When brother and sister drew apart, Grace wiped her face with her hands then sank down on her knees next to Leto. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.

But an argument broke out near the doorway.

“No the fuck way,” Marcus shouted. “Not for a thousand deserving men, Havily. No. That’s final.”

Marguerite had no idea what was going on. She glanced at Thorne but he had a stunned expression on his face and began making his way to Marguerite’s side. For some reason, he sank down beside her, next to the chair, and took her hand.

“What is it?”

“Oh, man this is bad, but it might be good. But dammit, this is really bad. Shit. I don’t think I could do it.”

Havily’s voice lifted to the tall villa ceilings. “Screw that, Marcus, this isn’t your goddamn choice.”

Marguerite lifted her brows and held Helena a little more firmly. That was Havily? She hadn’t thought the lovely woman, with the immaculate makeup and perfectly coiffed red hair, would ever utter such words. She began to like her a little more.

“You are so wrong about that, Hav. Warriors don’t fucking share. You know that.”

“We need to make an exception in this case.”

“I don’t think I could do it,” Thorne murmured once more. He squeezed her fingers harder until she told him to let up, that he was hurting her. “Sorry.”

“What’s the argument about? What is it he won’t let her share?”

Thorne met her gaze, but boy did his eyes look dark, almost hostile. “Her blood.”

Marguerite recoiled. Even she got it. Even she understood the horrible nature of the idea. “She can’t … do that.”

He nodded in brisk pops of his head. “You understand, then.”

“Sure. Of course. I’d kill a woman for taking yours.”

But much to Marguerite’s surprise Fiona moved to stand beside Havily. “You have to let her try, Marcus, you know you do.”

“Okay, now I really don’t get this,” Marguerite whispered. But Thorne was rubbing her fingers and kissing them as though trying to soothe himself.

Alison moved closer to Fiona and put in her two cents’ worth. “If you stand next to Havily and hold her, would that make it easier? He could take her blood at the wrist.”

Marguerite was dumbfounded. Why Havily’s blood? The warriors had begun forming a tight knot near the entrance to what looked like the library. Tension in the room seemed to be mounting.

Sweet Christ, what the hell was going on?

But when Parisa, who really didn’t like to share, joined the group of women, Marguerite’s mouth fell open.

“Marcus, we can all stand with her, surround her. Will that help?”

Marcus pushed his way through this feminine onslaught until he stood before Thorne. “I can’t do this. You have to order Havily not to do it.”

Marguerite watched Thorne, wondering what he was going to do. He stared up at Marcus for a good long moment. His breathing was strange, really rough, like he was just barely holding himself together. He let go of Marguerite’s hand and squared his shoulders. He rose to his feet and leveled his hard stare on Marcus, that commanding stare that Marguerite knew so well. Oh, shit. Thorne was going to allow it. What the hell?

Thorne put a heavy hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “How about you and I and the boys go out on the front patio and have a smoke. Medichi has some great cigars and I’ve missed a lot of stuff over the past couple of weeks. Jeannie’s kept me informed, but I’d like to hear what you’ve got going on.”

“Shit,” Marcus muttered. He put a hand to his face and shaded his eyes.

Thorne stepped in close and put his arm around Marcus’s shoulders. He got the man moving in the direction of the foyer and kept him moving.

The women quickly flowed in to fill up the space behind, almost like a barricade to the couch where Leto breathed in small puffs of air.

Thorne signaled for the rest of the men to back him up and together, as one giant mountain of testosterone, they ushered Marcus outside.

Alison cried out, “Havily, make it quick.”

Marguerite’s mouth grew dry from having it so wide open as she watched female peer pressure orchestrate a move against one of the bonded warriors. It was no small thing that the rest of the warriors supported Thorne despite the fact that he’d been AWOL.

The next thing she knew, Havily dropped to the carpet next to Grace and offered her wrist to Leto. He moved his head around and wouldn’t take it.

Grace got in close as well and began to kiss him and play with lips. She rubbed her face against Havily’s arm several times, scenting it up. She then loomed over him, held his face in her hands, and looked into his eyes.

“Take it, Leto. Do it for me.”

Marguerite couldn’t see the strike from where she sat, but she watched Havily’s back arch then settle down. Her shoulder began to bob.

After a few seconds had passed, Alison, who now stood behind the couch with Parisa, murmured, “Look how fast his color is coming back.”

Parisa touched her arm and drew her away, whispering to her.

Alison drew back and met Parisa’s gaze. “Oh, God, you’re probably right. Oh, shit.” This, from Alison. “Well, so much for dinner and welcoming either Thorne or Leto back.”

Parisa leaned over the back of the couch and said to Grace, “You’ll have the house to yourself for an hour or so. Do whatever you need to do. Everyone’s taking off as soon as Havily’s done. Uh … except that Antony and I will be in his suite of rooms, but I’ll keep him there.” Her cheeks had turned a dark pink.

Marguerite was so confused. She was trying to piece everything together and failing. Why was everyone leaving?

Alison approached her. “Will you continue to hold Helena for a couple more minutes while I settle things with the men?”

“Only if you tell me what the hell … I mean, what’s going on?”

“Oh, that’s right. You probably wouldn’t know. Havily’s blood has unique properties: It mimics dying blood. That’s why there was such a dustup about this. Leto will probably emerge much stronger and, um, well, he’ll have certain needs.”

“Oh, my God.”

“You got that right. So this”—she extended a hand toward the couch—“is going to get very interesting in about three minutes, maybe less. And our warriors just aren’t going to handle this at all.”

“I’ll watch the baby.”

Alison left the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Marguerite felt a rush of cool air from the front door opening and closing.

Parisa approached her, looking worried. “The men will have to head to the Borderlands soon, but once this is finished”—she jerked her head in the direction of the couch—“at the very least Marcus will need to assert himself with Havily, if you know what I mean.”

“But she’s just trying to help, maybe even save his life.”

Parisa shrugged. “They’re bonded. This is a big no-no, especially Havily’s blood.”

“I get that, but…”

Parisa was chewing on her lower lip, and her complexion was flushed. She kept glancing in the direction of the front door.

Finally, Marguerite understood. Parisa’s complexion hadn’t pinked up because she was embarrassed.

Alison came back in and called Fiona over. “We’re going to have to break this up. Kerrick practically attacked me. Antony’s shaking. Marcus is sitting in a chair with his arms tight around his chest and rocking like he’s going crazy. Fiona, I’d suggest you go out to Jean-Pierre and take him home … now. He’s pacing like a madman. It’s as though whatever Marcus is feeling the rest of them are as well, even the ones that aren’t bonded. Thorne sent Zach, Luken, and Santiago off to the Blood and Bite for some R and R.”

Fiona didn’t hesitate. “Got it.” She lifted her arm and folded.

Parisa was next. A couple of seconds later she and Medichi materialized outside their bedroom door, way down the hall, at least thirty yards away. He was kissing her hard as he pushed open the door to what Marguerite supposed was his suite of rooms. He all but dragged her inside then shut the door so hard the walls shook.

Alison moved to the front of the chair. “I’ll take Helena now. Sorry about this. I suppose it’s not exactly a rousing endorsement for the
breh-hedden.
We’ll catch up later, okay?”

“Sure.” The blond beauty leaned down and lifted her baby oh-so-carefully, cradling her in her arms. “Thank you for holding her. It meant a lot.” Then she was just gone.

Thorne reappeared by her chair so suddenly that she jerked away from him. If she’d been standing, his cherry tobacco scent would have knocked her flat. Sweet Christ the man was shaking.

She rose and slid her arm around his waist.

God, I need you,
he sent.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked. “Maybe we should leave.” His obvious need of her, and all that specific male scent meant just for her, was doing a serious number on her body.

“Roses,” he murmured.

He looked down at her. She saw the raw need in his eyes, and his powerful tobacco scent powered over her. His eyes were dilated.

Still, he shook his head. “Not yet. I have to see for myself how Leto’s doing. Then we can go.”

Havily backed up, holding her wrist. Marguerite caught a glimpse and realized Leto had all but savaged her. But as she turned to Thorne, she was smiling and her eyes were wet. “You’ll see in a minute.” She then drew a deep breath and lowered her chin like she knew she was in for it. “Now, for Marcus.”

She lifted her arm and vanished.

Grace stood up. As she moved out of the way, so that Marguerite had a full view of Leto, she gasped. Even Thorne muttered, “Holy shit.”

*   *   *

Leto sat up. His eyes were closed as he leaned against the back of the couch and touched his stomach. “Free,” he whispered. “I’m free.”

“You’re out of pain?”

He looked up and met Grace’s gaze, her exquisite green-gold eyes and pale lashes. “Yes. For the first time in weeks.” He felt alive, really alive.