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He wondered who mowed their lawn, and had a feeling the grass, like all the rest of it, just grew that way.

Must be nice.

Chapter Fourteen

Back at the brotherhood’s mansion, Cormia checked the clock on her bureau again. John Matthew had been due to come for her an hour ago to watch a thew had been due to come for her an hour ago to watch a movie, and she hoped nothing had gone wrong.

Pacing around a little more, she found that her room seemed way too small tonight, way too crowded, even though it had no new furniture and she was all alone.

Dearest Virgin Scribe, she had too much energy.

It was the Primale’s blood.

That and a crushing, unsatisfied urgency.

She stopped by the window, put her fingertips to her lips, and remembered the taste of him, the feel of him. What a mad rush, what a glorious ecstasy. But why had he stopped? That question had been swirling in her head. Why had he gone no further? Yes, the medallion had summoned him, but as Primale everything was on his terms. He was the strength of the race, the ruler of the Chosen, free to ignore any and all at his will.

The only answer she had made her sick to her stomach. Had it been his feelings for Bella? Had he believed that he was betraying the one he loved?

It was hard to know what was worse: him being with her and all her sisters, or him being with none of them because his heart was held by another.

Looking out at the night, she was sure she was going to go crazy if she stayed in her room, and the pool with its undulating surface caught her eye. The gentle waving motion reminded her of the deep baths on the other side, promising a peaceful respite from all that was on her mind.

Cormia was at her door and out in the hall before she knew she’d left her bedroom. Moving quickly and silently in her bare feet, she took the grand staircase down to the foyer and crossed the mosaic floor. In the billiards room, she used the door John had let them out of the night before and stepped free of the house.

Standing on the cool stones of the terrace, she let her senses reach into the darkness and ran her eyes down what she could see of the massive wall at the edge of the property. There seemed to be no danger. Nothing moved among the flowers and trees of the garden except the thick night air.

She glanced back up at the massive house. Lights glowed in leaded windows, and she could see doggen moving around. There were plenty of folks close by should she need help.

She closed the door most of the way, picked up the skirting of her robes, and jogged across the terrace to the water.

The pool was rectangular and ringed with the same flat black stones that covered the terrace. Long chairs made up of woven strips and tables with glass tops. Off to one side, there was a black contraption with a white tank. Flowers in pots added color.

Kneeling down, she measured the water, its surface appearing oily in the moonlight, probably because the pool’s belly was lined in more of the black stone. The way it was set up was not like the baths at home; there was no gradual wading in, and she suspected the depths were substantial. You would not get trapped, however. At regular intervals on the sides, there were curving handles that you could use to help yourself free of the water.

Her toe went in first and then her whole foot, the pool’s surface rippling out from the penetration, as if the water were clapping in encouragement.

There were stairs over to the left, shallow steps that were clearly the way you went in. She went to them, took off her robe, and walked naked into the pool.

Her heart was pounding, but oh, the luxury of the water’s soft buffer. She kept going forward until she was clothed in a gentle, moving embrace from breast to heel.

How lovely it was.

Instinct told her to push off with her feet, and she did, her body slipping forward in a weightless slice. Sending her arms up and out and then drawing them back in, she discovered she could make her way around, going wherever she chose—first to the right, then to the left, then down,