NINETEEN
Layla felt much better when she awoke to the third day of the trip, but the bout of misery left her drained, so she easily caved when Quin insisted on carrying her. The few times she peeked from the safety of his embrace, she found nothing but endless ocean, and it stayed that way for about twelve hours, at which point Quin descended toward a small, deserted island.
With her feet buried in soft sand and waves crashing against the eastern shore, Layla held her bladder while letting Skyla perform a quick exam, but as soon as Quin had the tent erected, Layla rushed inside to pee.
Skyla laughed as she followed. “I imagine trying to stay hydrated while flying over the ocean is hell.”
Quin met his cousin halfway and accepted the pouch of herbs she offered. “How is she?”
“Good,” Skyla answered. “She can keep drinking the tea for the pain and inflammation, but the fever’s gone and shouldn’t come back. If it does, we’re not dealing with milk stasis.”
“Thanks again, Sky. We’re glad you’re here.”
“Me, too. Will we see you at dinner?”
He shrugged while walking her to the exit. “I don’t know. Would you like some help with your tent?”
“I got some. Tristan is setting it up.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. He’s helped the past two nights. He’s really nice.”
“Hmm… You know what he is.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know he can’t give you everything you deserve.”
“Like what?”
“Like his love and devotion. He’s incapable, so don’t try to sway him. It’ll disappoint you both.”
She stayed silent for a few seconds, and just as Quin thought she was gearing up to argue, a smile stretched across her face. “Your concern is sweet, but I have no delusions about Tristan. I know what I’m doing.”
“Does he know?”
“Probably.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.”
Quin had his suspicions, but Skyla was old enough to make her own decisions and mistakes, so he suppressed the urge to pry and let her leave.
When he turned, he found Layla sitting on the side of the bed, a framed photo of their kids in her hands. “What was that about?” she asked. “Is Sky hooking up with Tristan?”
Quin moved to the bucket and drained his bladder without bothering to close the curtain. “I don’t know. Maybe, but I suspect it’s a means to a completely different outcome. She’s using him.”
“Hmm… Think he cares?”
“No. He probably prefers it that way.”
“Then they’re using each other.”
“I suppose they are.”
He cleaned his hands while closing the distance between them. Then he performed his own examination, double-checking Skyla’s work. “I need to meet with Drexel after we eat. I’ve refused his request for a conference the past two nights.”
“What does he want?”
“Hell if I know. He probably wants to bitch about us not doing enough to save the world.”
“For fuck’s sake, we’re doing everything we can.”
Quin raised an eyebrow at her, and a small grin twitched the corners of her lips. “See? I can say naughty words, too.”
“You pull it off surprisingly well.”
“Does it bother you?”
He laughed and shook his head no. Then he led her to the table, which was set with two Caprese salads, fresh focaccia bread, and two bowls of lobster bisque. Layla dug in, finally well enough to eat an entire meal, and Quin followed her lead, staying quiet and contemplative.
When Layla was halfway through her soup, she made a confession. “I don’t want to meet with Drexel tonight. I’m feeling better, and I’d like it to stay that way. Once we’re in Maganthia, I’ll do whatever I can to be the earth’s angel, but right now, I just want to be me.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ll pass the message to Drexel.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Do you want dessert?”
“No, I’m full.”
Nevertheless, she continued to sip her soup, but Quin was done, so he tossed a joint on the table and kissed her head. “I’ll be back. Mind search me if you need anything.”
Layla downed a dose of guilt while watching him leave. Then she pushed aside her dinner and summoned a nearby photo of her children, finding her disheveled reflection in the glass. Magicking her teeth clean, she tried to tame her curls with her fingers, but the improvement was minor, so she slumped into her chair and turned her attention on the kids, drawing strength and endurance from their sweet expressions.
Quin still hadn’t returned by the time she replaced the photo, and she couldn’t help but imagine the bitch-fest he was forced to endure. She’d make it up to him. She’d make it up to all of them. Eventually. But today was not that day.
Summoning pajama pants and one of Quin’s t-shirts, she stripped off her dress and got comfortable. Then she grabbed the joint off the table and emerged from the tent.
The atmosphere outside was much less stifling and depressing than the one inside, and her shoulders lightened with the salty breeze drifting off the surf. Most of the Crusaders huddled around fires outside their tents, but Drexel and Bryce weren’t in sight, and neither were Tristan and Emrys. Layla’s coven members sat at a table under a cluster of palm trees, along with Weylin, who’d been tasked with keeping Timber in line. Bright and shiny auras surrounded the group, and laughter echoed into the night sky… until they noticed Layla’s approach and sobered up.
She sighed at their response, but she didn’t let it deter her. Sliding into the chair next to Weylin, she lit her herb and looked around. “Keep going. It’s nice.”
Their tension eased as conversations resumed, but they were more subdued than before.
“Where’s Quin?” Layla asked, passing the joint to Weylin.
He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Drexel’s tent.”
She’d assumed as much, and since she’d already put the burden on Quin, she tried to take advantage of the peace he provided. “What are you playing?”
Brietta motioned to the dice on the table. “It’s a drinking game. If you’re lucky, you’ll get drunk. If you’re unlucky, you’ll get shitfaced.”
Layla laughed and straightened. “Looks like I need something to drink.”
Skyla held out a bottle of wine, but Layla bypassed it for the amber bottle between Weylin and Timber. “What’s this?”
“Shitty whiskey,” Timber answered, yet he threw it back all the same.
“That will work,” Layla mumbled, wrinkling her nose over the rising fumes.
Weylin laughed and snatched up the dice. “Have you ever had whiskey, gorgeous?”
“No.”
“Ava’s ass, you truly are an angel.”
“It doesn’t smell very good.”
“A few shots of that, and you won’t smell it anymore.”
Layla noticed Aradia’s intrigued stare and raised the bottle between them. “Want to take the dive with me?”
“No way,” Aradia refused. “I’m still working up to straight champagne.”
Sure enough, Aradia was nursing a mimosa, but Layla needed something stronger tonight, so she shrugged and lifted the whiskey to her lips.
Before she could tip it back, her chest warmed, and gravity shifted as the world brightened. No… not the world. Her bonded light. It had been a while since the gold and silver haze had such a powerful and instantaneous reaction, but there was no forgetting what caused it.
A trace of whiskey tickled her taste buds as she lowered the booze and looked over her shoulder, watching wizards flood from Drexel’s tent. Quin was the first to emerge, his stiff shoulders carrying the weight of the world as he beelined for his tent, but his purposeful steps faltered when he noticed Layla outside, and when he dropped his gaze to the bottle in her hand, his scowl deepened.
She braced for his reprimand, determined not to cower at his approach, but she should have known better than to fear him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing at Weylin, who held up his hands in defense.
“Don’t look at me. She helped herself.”
“She’s a big girl,” Brietta piped in. “If she wants to get drunk, no one’s going to stop her.”
“May we watch?” Tristan asked, summoning chairs for himself and Emrys.
Skyla welcomed them with a smile and a joint. Then all eyes turned to Quin, awaiting his opinion on the matter.
Following a heavy sigh, he took the whiskey away from Layla, but after handing it to Weylin, he sat and summoned a much prettier bottle, along with two fancy glasses. “I won’t have my girl getting wasted on that swill. If you’re going to get liquor drunk, you’re going to do it right.”
“Hear, hear,” Weylin approved, tossing the dice, and he must have rolled lucky numbers, because they allowed him to give Layla and Quin two drinks a piece.
Wrapping a strong arm around Layla’s shoulders, Quin clinked his glass to hers. Then he drank deeply while watching her take her first sip of Scotch.
The burn wasn’t as bad as she feared, so she took a slightly bigger drink the second time. “How many of these until I’m smashed?”
Quin played with her hair as he quietly answered. “Let’s revisit the topic after you finish the first glass.”
Brietta pointed at Weylin, breathing between drinks. “That won’t be long if Wey keeps rolling sevens.”
Quin lit a joint while shoving Weylin’s shoulder. “Let my angel roll.”
“Gladly,” Weylin agreed, passing the dice to Layla, but the first combination she rolled earned her another drink instead of letting her give one away.
“Aww…” Quin teased, swiping the dice. “Too bad.” Then he rolled the best combination possible and proceeded to assign all the drinks to Weylin, who took them like a champ.
By the time Layla drained her glass, they’d switched to a card game that didn’t demand anyone drink, but Quin poured her a refill anyway. He was on his third glass, and they were both more relaxed than they’d been in over a week. Easygoing conversations flowed around them, punctuated by random jokes and booze-fueled laughter, which was a stark contrast to the solemn Crusaders in the background.
Leaning into Quin’s side, Layla whispered while glancing at Drexel. “Did Commander Sourpuss have anything important to say?”
“Not really,” Quin answered. “He’s just intent on reminding me why we’re here.”
“Like you don’t know.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
He searched her eyes. Then he took a big swig and shrugged. “I’m not here to save the world. Our priorities don’t align and never will. He’ll have to learn to live with that or figure out a way to kill me.”
“That won’t happen,” Emrys interjected, watching them from across the table. “She chose you. The Crusaders have to accept that to uphold their vows to her creators. They won’t cut you out unless she cuts you out.”
Layla harrumphed into her liquor. “That’s not happening.”
Quin tightened his hold on her shoulders and kissed her head. “As long as that’s true, I’m right where I need to be.”
Layla wholeheartedly agreed. Now she just needed to figure out how to close the distance she’d put between them over the past week. To save face and stay sane, she’d built a wall, and she knew it had taken all of Quin’s exceptional willpower to refrain from busting it down. He was patiently waiting for her to let him in, and with her kids over two thousand miles away, she needed him now more than ever. She needed a replacement for the skin contact she lost the moment she stopped nursing the triplets, and only Quin would succeed in giving it to her. Only he could patch the gaping hole in her heart. And he was the only man she wanted to smother in the unspent love and affection building inside her. Even her bonded light understood this, reacting to his nearness in ways she thought were mere memories, an early perk that got lost in the hectic push to love and protect the babies they conceived within days of bonding.
She felt his eyes on her and looked over, wondering if he could tell he was on her mind. But of course he could. Even if her bonded light wasn’t loud enough, her aura undoubtedly broadcasted the overwhelming emotions to everyone on the island. She didn’t care. She wanted them to see. Every single one of them.
A smile curved Quin’s lips as his tender fingers tucked an errant curl behind her ear, and she wasn’t sure if liquor, weed or tears were to blame for his glossy eyes. Maybe it was a combination of all three, plus a lack of sleep. Whatever the case, she didn’t point out his shiny gaze, and he didn’t mention the telltale lights radiating off her. Talking about it was unnecessary. They could feel it.
Layla drank her second glass of Scotch much quicker than the first, catching up with Quin on the third, and while inebriation told her to go for a fourth, Quin vanished his glass and didn’t volunteer to refill hers. If she wanted another drink, she’d have to get it herself, thereby releasing him from the blame should she go overboard. His position was clear. He wouldn’t forbid her from getting blackout drunk, and he’d take care of her if she did, but he wouldn’t encourage it.
With the world around them already flowing like fuzzy fluid, she decided not to push her luck and nudged away the fine liquor and fancy glassware. Quin immediately vanished them. Then he summoned a bottle of water and a pile of candy for them to share.
“Best drinking partner ever,” she praised, diving into the sweets, which mixed with the weed and alcohol to propel her into the goofiest state of mind she’d ever experienced. She giggled at everything, even stupid shit, and her worries and inhibitions had flown, leaving her euphoric and aroused. Quin must have noticed the latter, and she spied arousal in his aura, but he didn’t act on his desires.
Brietta and Kegan had retired to their tent, still in the throes of their honeymoon phase, and Banning was trying to convince Aradia to let him cleanse her aura, willing to do anything to get her alone. Even Skyla and Tristan explored their urges by taking a walk on the other side of the lagoon, leaving Weylin, Timber and Emrys immersed in a drunken debate over the best Maganthian pubs. But Quin hadn’t flirted or suggested he and Layla return to their tent, no matter how handsy she got.
When Aradia caved and let Banning lead her away, Layla opened her mouth to suggest Quin follow their lead, but he’d already refilled their water and stood. “We need to get some sleep.”
Layla clumsily pushed herself from her chair, hoping sleep was code for something else entirely, but as they walked to the tent, he didn’t give any indication that he planned to pursue sex. Of course he was physically affectionate, a trait he maintained through good times and bad, and there was no way he’d missed the signals she was sending him. She was too soused to be subtle. But he hadn’t countered or encouraged her roaming touch and sensual stares.
Trying not to pout about his disinterest, Layla led the way into the tent. Then she denounced modesty and vanished her clothes. Even her underwear disappeared, so if he wasn’t looking now, all hope was lost. Bracing for disappointment, she rotated, and though her naked body had stolen his attention, he looked more frustrated than turned on.
She scowled and propped her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you want me?”
His shoulders fell as he closed the distance between them, but he kept his hands above her neck, taking her cheeks in gentle palms. “I can’t begin to explain how badly I want you right now. Getting your body all to myself is the only part of this trip I looked forward to, and I just spent the past two hours trying to tame an extremely uncomfortable erection. You’re relaxed and happy and your aura’s screaming for sex, and all I want to do is throw you on that bed and fuck you until the sun comes up.”
Her belly tingled, ridiculously overjoyed by the prospect, and her lips crept into a smile as she fumbled for his waistband. “Let’s do it.”
“We can’t,” he refused, pulling her hand from his shorts to his heart.
Undeterred, she vanished his shirt and played with his pecs. “Why not?”
He stepped back, making her stumble. Then he summoned a hand mirror and aimed it at her. “That’s why.”
She blinked at the reflection of her breasts, which looked like they’d volunteered as punching bags for a boxing champ. Red in some spots and purple in others, they remained veiny, swollen and misshapen, and odds were, they smelled like old cabbage.
“Gross,” she mumbled, shuffling to the bed.
He scowled and vanished the mirror. “They’re not gross. Not even a little bit. But they are on the mend, and they don’t need me pawing at them.”
“Like you’d want to.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I do want to touch them. And it would be damn near impossible for me to resist if I’m inside you.” He followed her to the bed and climbed in. “You have to believe me, love. Even bruised and ill, you’re the sexiest woman in my world.”
She sat with her legs crossed and succumbed to a pout. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious, Layla. I mean, there’s nothing sexy about a fever, and your pain doesn’t turn me on at all, but even when you look your worst, you arouse me in ways no one else can.”
She motioned to herself. “You think this is sexy?”
“Yes.”
“I’m drunk and sloppy.”
He grinned as his colors raced. “I know, and I’d love to take advantage of that, but not at the risk of hindering your healing.”
She huffed, still insanely turned on. Apparently fancy Scotch needed to come with a warning label – caution: this product will turn even the most modest among you into horny harlots.
Encouraged by his speeding aura, she rose to her knees, and in a final attempt to get what she wanted, she took his cheeks and planted a deep kiss on his lips. He gripped her hip and shoulder, squeezing as he instinctively kissed back, but then he came to his senses and tensed, using his hold to keep her from rubbing against him. Unready to cede, she aimed for his throat, and he groaned as his fingers dipped into her flesh.
“Shit,” he breathed, his lungs quickening. “Please, love.”
Pulling one hand from his face, she reached between them, and her clit throbbed when she found him hard and straining the stitching of his shorts. He cursed again, followed by another muttered plea for mercy. Then he got serious and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it hard enough to halt the kissing assault on his throat. She licked her lips while flipping her gaze to his smoldering stare, certain she was about to get scolded, but the bulge in her grip hadn’t softened, and his aura sped as fast as ever.
He swallowed while glancing down her body. Then he found her eyes and spoke through a tight jaw. “Turn around and bend over.”
Her mouth opened for an excited gasp, her blood rejoicing by surging to tender areas, including her breasts, but she ignored the discomfort and pushed off him. In her enthusiastic rush to flip around and perch her horny ass in the air, she forgot she was drunk, which not only disrupted her balance, but made her forget she wasn’t on her oversized bed.
Off the side of the mattress she went, headfirst, arms outstretched, and despite it playing out in slow motion, making her aware of her foolishness, she was too uncoordinated to halt her descent. Thankfully, Quin wasn’t as inebriated, and his strong hand hooked her ankle just in time. Another inch, and she probably would have broken her wrists. But rather than mourn what might have been the most embarrassing moment of her life, she started cracking up. Bent at the hip and flung upside down, she couldn’t stop laughing, her naked ass undoubtedly shaking in Quin’s face as he held tight, but the humiliating image of herself through his eyes merely increased the humor, and her hysterical giggles heightened.
Quin steadied her by holding her thigh. Then he released her ankle and hugged her waist, carefully heaving her back onto the bed. Her head landed on the pillows with a poof, but the world continued to sway as the mattress shook with her diaphragm. Quin brushed her hair from her face, and she chanced a peek at him, expecting annoyance or anger, but he was smiling, on the brink of catching her laughing bug.
“I’m a mess,” she confessed, laying a hand over her aching side.
He moved his pillow closer and lay down beside her. “You’re the most perfect mess I’ve ever known.”
Drawing a deep breath, she tried to tame her silliness, but the effort led to more uncontrollable laughter that lasted for several seconds.
When she finally calmed her lungs, she ran one hand through her hair while pulling the other down her strained cheeks. “Well, if that isn’t a sign I should call it a night, I don’t know what is.”
He nuzzled through curls and touched his lips to her neck. “Will you let me hold you while we sleep?”
“Will you forgive me for being so cold lately?”
“Done,” he assured. “What else do you need?”
“Just meet me halfway when we’re ready to close the distance. I need you, Quin. Now more than ever.”
His lips paused over her pulse then drifted across her shoulder. “I’m all yours.”
“Good,” she sighed, always willing to be selfish when it came to him. “Now cover my tits in cabbage and tuck me in.”
~***~
When Quin hugged Layla awake Wednesday morning, everything she’d done the night before came rushing back, and it looked much worse in the sober light of day.
“Oh god,” she moaned, laying a palm over her face. “I’m the worst.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
She harrumphed and rubbed her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I honestly don’t. Please enlighten me.”
“I was such an idiot last night.”
His body shook with a soft string of laughter, and she scowled while slapping his chest. “You’re laughing at me.”
He tightened his hold in an attempt to keep her close, but he didn’t stem his humor, and her cheeks burned as she shrunk into a humiliated ball. “I’m so embarrassed. Not only did I act like a drunken fool and fall off the bed, I tried to seduce you with ugly, cabbage boobs and a body that hasn’t seen a shower in three days. Eww…”
He leaned back, but he had to pry her hands from her face to find her eyes. “Hey.”
She fought tears and swallowed a lump. “Hey back.”
“I’m glad you did all that.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
He seemed to mean it, but she didn’t understand. “Why?”
“For so many reasons, but mostly because I know you better today than I did yesterday, and I have yet to meet a side of you that fails to make me fall in love all over again. You are my favorite part of every day, Layla. Whether you’re pale and clammy and running a fever, or you’re drunk and giggly and falling off beds. You could curse like a teenage boy, lose your breasts, and swear off soap forever, and I’d still find a million reasons to love you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Stinky reasons.”
He smiled and scooted closer. “I’d give up my sense of smell for you. As much as I adore the angel in you, I like seeing your human side, along with all the interesting flaws that come with it. Experiencing them makes me feel closer to you on a level I’ll never reach with my hands, so please don’t keep them from me. Don’t regret being you, even when the you you’re being isn’t the you I’m used to, and don’t ever let yourself believe I won’t still love you in the morning, because odds are, my love has grown.”
She blinked back tears, cleansed of the embarrassment and full of warm and fuzzy feelings. “God, I love you. So much. Willa may have screwed up with me, but when it came to you, she got it right. If anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise, send them to me.”
“That’s sweet, but I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me. Your opinion is the only one that matters.”
“Then you’re in good shape, because I’m madly in love with you.”
“You know… I haven’t showered in three days either, so it shouldn’t be a stretch for you to believe I can love a grungy angel.”
She grinned and tucked her bottom lip into her teeth, tasting it while recalling her drunken make-out session with his neck. “I thought you tasted saltier than normal.”
He laughed and pulled her into a hug. “We’ll be salty together.”
“Until when?”
“Well, we’ll be on a raft again tonight, so we could take a dip in the ocean, but that won’t help with the saltiness. We’ll take a proper shower tomorrow night.”
“Will my boobs be better by then?”
“I hope so. How do they feel now?”
“Fine, a little tender.”
He rolled her onto her back and removed the cabbage he’d adhered to her chest with magic. “They look much better. They’re not leaking anymore.”
“It will be a relief when the milk’s completely gone. Without babies to feed, it’s just a burdensome reminder that something’s missing.”
His aura slowed as he chewed his cheek. Then he swallowed his sorrow and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get going. The sooner we reach Maganthia, the sooner we can call home.”