The Shadows

Aye, he thought. He had gathered that the RV was the Brothers’.

He had caught that scent dematerializing out of it—and no other vampire group could afford such a luxury.

Xcor cracked a hard laugh. “Have you not heard of self-preservation? If I was injured as badly as you think I am, I left to save myself.”

“Bullshit. I know your reputation. You had an opportunity tonight and you didn’t take it. Matter of fact, you’ve had the chance to attack our compound for almost a year and you’ve done nothing.”

“Must I remind you of the nature of our arrangement here?” he asked in a bored tone. “You show up and indulge mine eyes, and I don’t slaughter them all.”

“A vow given to a female would never stop you. You are the Bloodletter’s son.”

Oh, but a vow to you would, he thought to himself.

Her voice grew strong. “You are not going to agress on them, are you. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not a year from now. And not because I’m coming here to see you—otherwise, you would have killed one or more of them in the alleys this eve. That would be outside the scope of our agreement, would it not?”

As he stared up at her, her eyes were so shrewd that he felt diminished in stature—and not because he was sitting down and she was standing over him.

“For whatever reason, they are no longer a target for you, are they,” she said. “Are they.”

* * *

As Layla stood above Xcor, she spoke aloud the realization that had formulated in her head during the drive from the Brotherhood compound here to the cottage.

It was as if she had been walking at a steep incline and had suddenly reached a clearing in the brush that showed her the vista that she had been a part of, and yet unaware of.

“Answer me,” she demanded.

He cocked a brow. “You said I am a male of no honor, that the vow to a female would not curtail my actions. Why do you want me to give you any reply when it cannot be trusted.”

“What’s changed? I know it has nothing to do with me, but something has shifted.”

“Since you are so good at filling in my responses, I believe I shall just sit back and allow you to hold both sides of this conversation.”

As he continued to stare up at her, his face as calm and composed as a mask, she knew he was going to give her nothing further. And perhaps he was right: She could not trust what he said.

She would, however, put faith in his actions.

“Take from me,” she said, extending her wrist. “And heal.”

“You are a perverse female. What about your young?”

“Females can safely feed a male, provided they do not take overmuch.”

She had fed Qhuinn and Blay up until about a month ago, when they had switched to Selena out of an over-abundance of caution. And anyway, she herself had taken a vein a mere twelve hours ago, so she was at her very strongest.

And he was not.

“You have not fed properly since you took my vein, have you.”

His eyes flicked away to the fire. “Of course I have.”

“You lie.”

“Please make use of that car of yours and spirit yourself back to the Brotherhood.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed to a glare as he looked back at her. “You are trying my patience.”

“Because I’m right about all of this—”

Just like that, he was up on his feet, and even though he had a limp, he still managed to press himself against her, forcing her to take a step back or fall off her heels. And another. And another.

Until she was up against the wall.

And held there by his body.

“You might want to rethink your conclusion, Chosen.”

Layla found it difficult to breathe, but not because he was putting any direct pressure on her chest. “I know something else.”

“And what might that be.”

She thought back to over-hearing what Blay and Qhuinn had said about the night before, about how Rhage, V, and the twins had gone out to where the Band of Bastards had stayed.

“I know that you had yet another chance to kill them. I know they went to the house you had been living in, and you didn’t leave anything behind that could hurt them. You could have either ambushed them there, or set up some kind of offensive, and you did not.”

At that, he broke off from her.

It was painful to watch him limp around, see his bloodstained, torn clothes, witness the exhaustion.

Grimly, she said, “So I’m not exactly feeding the enemy anymore, am I?”

Eventually, he stopped before the fire. Putting one hand upon his hip, he stared down at the flames and seemed curiously defeated.

“Just go,” he said.

“Why would you choose to hide what for me is good news?” The idea that he might not be trying to kill the Brotherhood or Wrath anymore would be a tremendous relief. “Why?”

“If we did not have our arrangement, would you come and see me.”

Layla felt a strange warmth come over her, and she was dimly aware that they were, once again, approaching some kind of divide.

All of their nights thus far had been a dance defined by the role of manipulator and victim.

And there had been a perverse safety for her in the position she took.

It meant she could hide behind doing a duty for the Brotherhood.

It meant she could pretend that she was forced into this.