J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [381]
They were soldiers who fought with John, she thought. Young soldiers.
“Who are you?” she asked the one with the odd, lovely eyes.
“Qhuinn. I’m with him.” His thumb jogged in John Matthew ’s direction. “The redhead’s—”
“Blaylock,” the other one cut in sharply. “I’m Blaylock.”
“I’m just going for a swim,” she said.
“So I see.” Qhuinn’s smile was friendly, no longer sexual.
Still, he was attracted to her. She could sense it. And that was when she realized that with the path she was on, she would remain untouched forever. As a sequestered scribe she would never be among the ones who the Primale visited sexually.
So that gathering storm that had been called from her in such a glorious way would never be summoned and relieved again.
Ever.
As the great stretch of her years of life unfurled before her, some restless, desperate cord was struck, and the vibrations of its dissatisfaction carried her through the warm water over to the ladder. Grasping the handrails and pulling herself out, she felt the cool air on her body and knew all three of the soldiers were looking at her.
The knowledge depressed and emboldened her. This was the last time any male would see her body, and it was hard to think that she was locking down all that was female about herself forever. But she wasn’t going to be with anyone save the Primale, and she couldn’t bear to be with him as things stood with all her sisters. So this was the end.
In a few moments, she would close her robing around herself and bid good-bye to something that had never really gotten started.
So she would not apologize for her nakedness nor hide her body as she stepped free of the water’s gentle embrace.
Phury rematerialized in the gardens at the back of the Brotherhood’s mansion because he had no interest in running into anyone. With what was in his head, marching through the front door and running the risk of—
His feet stopped and his heart stopped and his breath stopped.
Cormia was rising from the pool, her resplendent female form dripping with water . . .while three newly transitioned males stood about ten feet from her with their tongues hanging down to their navels.
Oh . . . hell . . . no.
The bonded male in him came out like a beast, breaking free of the lies he’d fed himself about how he felt, roaring out of the cave of his heart, stripping him of everything that was civilized.
All he knew was that his female was standing naked and being coveted by others.
That was all that mattered.
Before he was aware of what he was doing, Phury let out a growl that broke through the air like a crack of thunder. John Matthew’s and his buddies’ eyes shot his way, and then the three of them moved back as one. Big-time. Like the pool had caught fire.
Cormia, on the other hand, didn’t look in his direction. She didn’t scramble to cover up, either. Instead, she deliberately picked up her robe and slid it slowly onto her shoulders, all latent defiance.
Which powered him up like nothing else. “Come into the house,” he demanded of her. “Now.”
As she glanced at him, her voice was as level as her eyes. “And if I choose not to?”
“I will put you over my shoulder and carry you inside.” Phury turned to the boys. “This is our business. Not yours. Get gone if you know what’s good for you. Now.”
The trio hesitated until Cormia said, “It’s going to be all right. Don’t worry.”
As they turned away, Phury had a feeling they weren’t going to go far, but Cormia didn’t need protection. Bonded males were mortally dangerous to everyone but their mates. He was out of control, yes, but she held his remote.
And he suspected she knew this.
Cormia reached up and wrung out her hair calmly. “Why do you want me inside?”
“Are you walking on your own or being carried?”
“I asked you why.”
“Because you are going to my bedroom.” The words were pushed out of his mouth by his sawing breath.
“Your bedroom? Don’t you mean mine? Because you told me to get out of yours