The Shadows

Nothing like throwing gasoline on a fire. Along with about a hundred pounds of dynamite.

* * *

Trez had meant every word he’d said about Selena and her freedom of choice.

As he strode through the underground tunnel, heading for the training center’s clinic, he was one hundred on pretty much one and only one thing—well, two, but the fact that he was in love with her was a rock-bottom given. The other thing he knew for sure was that Selena, and Selena alone, was going to decide how her condition was managed, and if anybody tried to strong-arm her in any way? He was going to butt-out them like you read about.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go see Doc Jane.

About his queen.

God, that pet name for Selena was so funny. The instant the sobriquet had come out of his mouth, it had locked in. As if his vocabulary had bonded to that word like his body had bonded to hers.

And she would be the only queen for him. No matter what happened to them, or where he ended up, she would be his reigning female, none other to supplant her place in his heart, his respect, or the utterance of that word.

Dragging his palm over his face, he forced his feet to stay at a walking stride even though a big part of him wanted to run at a full tilt to the clinic. There was no rush, however, at least as far as his female was concerned. Selena was up in his bedroom, naked in his tub, soaking her beautiful body in warm, scented water.

She was not completely pain-free. She hid the lingering stiffness and discomfort well, but the telltales were in the subtle winces of her face, and the jerky manner in which she moved her hands and arms. The bath and some OTC aspirin were going to help, though. And when she had had a good, long soak, she was going to get into his bed for a rest before their “date.”

Her joy at the prospect of their dinner together was contagious. He literally felt warm inside his skeleton, as if her happiness held a kinetic magic that, through his bonding, magnified within his own flesh. Hell, all he had to do was think of her at that breakfast table, grinning over their bowls of oatmeal, or think of the sound of her voice getting all excited about where they were going . . . and he was sublimely at peace.

There had never been anything close to it for him. Not even the love and commitment he had for his brother came near to the feeling.

In a sick way, he supposed her illness had been good for both him and Selena. He could not fathom how they would have wiped away the bullshit between them so efficiently or completely without . . .

Hell of a trade-off though, wasn’t it.

As he came up to the training center’s access point, he entered the proper codes, and then passed through the supply closet and into Tohr’s office. The Brother was not behind the desk, which was a good thing, and not a surprise. It was around five p.m., and Tohr was no doubt waking up in his mated bed with his Autumn, about to get ready for the night ahead.

What had been a surprise was that Doc Jane was willing to see him at this odd time of day. With the hours she’d been pulling lately between injuries and illness and Qhuinn’s brother, it seemed like she and Manny and Ehlena had been on shift constantly.

Made him respect the shit out of her.

Through the glass door. Down the concrete-block main corridor. Many doors down on the left.

Pushing his way into the examining room, he—

“Oh, shit!”

Leaping back out into the hall, he put the crook of his elbow up to his eyes, and prayed that what he’d just seen was not a permanent burn on his retinas.

There were some things that you didn’t need to know about the people you lived with, no matter how much you loved them.

A split second later, V opened the door, and the ziiiiiiiiip! as he did up the front of his leathers was loud.

“She’ll see you now,” he said matter-of-factly.

As if two seconds ago he hadn’t been banging the ever-loving shit out of his shellan as she sat on her desk.

“I can come back?” Trez asked.

“Nope, she’s ready. Selena okay?”

“I, ah . . . yes. She’s moving, she’s . . . well, I’m taking her out tonight.”

V took out a hand-rolled. “No shit. Where to?”

In all his ruminations, Trez had been studiously avoiding thinking about their precise destination. The date idea was great, the food was going to rock . . . there was just one problem that he was going to have to suck up and deal with.

“That restaurant.” He pointed to the ceiling. “You know the one downtown that, like, goes in circles?”

“Oh, yeah. Way up there.” The Brother exhaled. “Helluva view.”

Uh-huh. Fifty-plus stories. He’d gotten on the Web site to find out exactly how bad it was. “Yeah. Helluva view.”

“Lemme know if there’s anything I can do. For either of you.”

V gave him a clap on the shoulder, and started to stride off.

“Vishous.”

The Brother stopped, but did not turn around. And in the light above his head, the tendril of smoke from his hand-rolled struck an elegant swirl in the air.

“How much time do I have with her.”