The Beast

That was why—

“Stop it,” she muttered as she closed her eyes and halted her needles. “Just . . . stop.”

Indeed, she did not think she could bear her guilt and the knowledge of her betrayal of those whom she held dearest another moment. Yet what was another a course? Yes, she had been lied to and then coerced . . . but in the end, her heart had gone where it should not have.

And in spite of everything, had ne’er been returned unto her.

As she heard yet another sound out in the corridor, she glanced at her door and forced herself to get lost in the distraction. There had been a lot of activity in the training center tonight—voices, footfalls, doors opening and shutting—and somehow, it all just made her feel more isolated instead of less so. Then again, when things were quiet, there were fewer cues to remind her of everything she was missing.

Yet she wouldn’t have been anywhere else.

Putting her hand on her round stomach, she thought, yes, life as she knew it was of late more inwardly focused than outwardly so—and anytime she got antsy, all she had to do was remind herself of everything that was at stake.

She may never have the love that Qhuinn and Blay shared, but at least the young would be hers and herself theirs.

That was going to have to be enough for her life, and it would be. She couldn’t wait to hold them, care for them, watch them thrive.

Assuming she survived the birthing. Assuming all of them did.

As a soft alarm went off on her phone, she jumped and fumbled to silence the chiming sound. “Is it time already?”

Yes, it was. Her freedom had arrived. Thirty minutes to stretch and walk and go for a wander.

Within the confines of the training center, of course.

Pushing the knitting toward the base of the needles, she stuck the tips into her ball of yarn and stretched her arms and her legs, pointed her toes, flexed her fingers. Then she shifted her feet off the bed and eased her weight onto them. The demands of the pregnancy and all of her forced inactivity had led to a certain weakness in her muscles, one that was not cured no matter how much she fed from Qhuinn and Blay—so she had learned to be cautious whenever she stood up.

First stop was the bathroom, something that she was allowed to use readily, but inevitably put off. There was no need to take a shower, as she had done so twelve hours ago during that half hour to be up and around.

No, this was going to be purely investigatory.

What was going on out there?

As she headed over to the door, she smoothed her hair, which seemed to be growing as fast as her scarf was: the blond waves were down past her hips now, and she supposed she should have it cut at some point. Her flannel nightgown was likewise long and loose, rather the size of a flowered tent, and her slippers made a shhht-shhht-shhht sound over the bare floor. With her back already aching, and one arm thrown out to steady herself, she felt as though she were centuries older than she actually was.

Pushing open the way out, she—

Immediately stepped back.

Such that her butt hit the closing panel.

Across the way, a pair of males were standing tall and proud, identical expressions of tension marking their faces.

And by identical, she meant exactly the same.

They were twins.

As they focused on her, both recoiled sure as if they’d seen a ghost.

“Watch yourself,” came a nasty growl.

Layla whipped her head toward the warning. “Zsadist?”

The Brother with the scarred face stalked over to her, placing his body, with all its weapons, in between her and the two strangers, even though neither of the males had made an aggressive move toward her. Unsurprisingly, it was a very successful block. Zsadist’s torso and shoulders were so large she could no longer see the pair—and that was clearly his plan.

“Get back in there with him,” Zsadist barked. “Before I put you in that room.”

There was no argument, and abruptly, the foreign scents dissipated as if they had indeed disappeared from the hall.

“They did naught unto me,” she said. “Actually, I think if I’d gone, ‘Boo!’ they might well have run off.”

Z glanced over his shoulder. “I think you should return to your room.”

“But I’m allowed to stretch my legs twice a night?”

The Brother gently, but firmly, took her elbow and escorted her back through her door and over to her bed. “Not right now. I’ll come tell you when it’s okay. We have some unanticipated visitors, and I’m taking no chances with the likes of you.”

“Who are they?”

“No one you need to worry about—and they’re not staying long.” Z settled her back into position. “May I bring you some food?”

Layla exhaled. “No, thank you.”

“Something to drink, then?”

“I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

After bowing deeply, the Brother departed, and she half expected to hear the distant sounds of him pistol-whipping those two soldiers just for looking at her. But that was the way of things. As a pregnant female, she was the most valuable thing on the planet not just to her young’s sire, but to every single member of the Brotherhood.

It was like living with a dozen older, bossy, over-protective brothers.

Or Brothers, as was the case.

And ordinarily, she might have challenged even Zsadist. But she hadn’t recognized those big males, and God knew she’d already gotten into plenty of trouble fraternizing with fighters she didn’t know—and they had to be soldiers. They were built heavy and strong, and they had been wearing holsters.