The Chosen

“Call it what you want. Label it how you do. But between you and me, there is only one of us who knows what he’s talking about.”

Layla blinked once. And then twice. And then a third time.

She had some inkling that where she was about to go was probably not the best idea. But he was the one who’d brought a “cock” into this showdown.

“I know what your first shellan was like.” As the blood drained out of his face, she kept going. “While you’re putting me in a box because of my ovaries, you might consider, just for a moment, how Wellsie would have reacted to your saying any of this to a female. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have been impressed.”

As the words sank in, the Brother seemed to swell in front of her very eyes, his body increasing in size, strength, and mass to that of a deadly monster.

Tohr’s fists curled, and as he raised them, his face screwed down into a mask of absolute violence. In a voice that trembled, he said, “You need to go. You need to leave right now. I’ve never struck a female before and I’m not starting tonight.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anything.” She lifted her chin. “When it comes to protecting the lives of my young and the male I love, I will lay my life down in the path of their destiny, and if you beat me to death because of it, I will rise from the dead and haunt you to the point of insanity. There is nothing you can do to me that will make me back down. Nothing.”

For a moment, the Brother seemed so stunned he could not speak. And she supposed she could understand why. Here she was, facing off with the most fearsome kind of male the species had to offer, a trained killer who was armed and had at least two hundred pounds on her … and she wasn’t even shaking.

Yes, she thought. The one who had always felt a little lost had found her footing and her voice.

And it turned out both were that of a lion.

Tohr shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re really … totally out there, you know that. You’re willing to sacrifice your young, your chosen family, your home, your relationship with Qhuinn and Blay, your King—anyone who’s ever been there for you—all for a male who committed a war crime that was most likely one of the least offensive of all the things he’s done over the course of his life. So, fine, you want to know what my Wellsie would say about this? I’ll tell you. She’d say that you’re a traitor, and a betrayer, and that you should never see those young again because the first thing you do with children is protect them from harm.”

Okay. She was done arguing in the hypothetical here.

“I’m warning you right now, Tohrment—you need to ask yourself what you’re really doing here.” Layla shook her head again. “Because you’re going rogue. You want to talk about betrayal? I’m very certain that Wrath went back and told all the Brotherhood what he was doing with Xcor and the Band of Bastards and what he hoped to accomplish. And you’re not following orders, are you. Does that make you a traitor, too? I kind of think it does. So maybe you and I should get matching bestie armbands or something.”

“Fuck you, Layla. Hope you enjoy your life with that asshole of yours. I mean, I can only guess after all this posturing that you’re going to the Old Country with him—if he lives long enough to make the trip. Yeah, female like you, you’ll leave those young behind and just head off with your lover. And you know what? It’ll no doubt be the only time in my life when I think desertion of a person’s kids is a great idea.”

“You stay away from Xcor.”

“You are not in a position to give orders, female.” He laughed in a hard burst. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is all over someone like him. Who the hell is that piece of shit anyway—”

“He’s your fucking brother,” she snapped. “That’s who he is.”

FIFTY-FOUR

There were times in life when you could be in a car accident without even being behind the wheel. Or on a road. Or in any kind of motorized conveyance whatsoever.

As Layla’s words left her mouth and entered Tohr’s brain for processing, he felt a spinning sense of being out of control, and then, yes, there was a shock of impact as he realized, yes, she had just said that. Yes, she did just mean that. Yes … she was still looking him in the eye.

He’s your fucking brother.

“You lie,” he heard himself say.

“I do not. It’s in the library up in the Sanctuary. Go read it for yourself.”

“I have read my book. There is no mention of a brother—”

“It’s in your father’s volume. Xcor is the blooded son of the Black Dagger Brother Hharm. Just as you are.”

Tohr stumbled over to the old couch in front of the cold hearth and fell down on the hard cushions. “No.”

“As I said, go up there and read it for yourself. And then process the fact that not only are you going against one of Wrath’s direct orders, you’ll also be killing your closest blood relative.”

He had no idea how long he sat there. He was too busy sifting through his old life, before he had come to the New World, for any snippet or telltale sign, any clue … or … anything.

“How could I not have known?” He shook his head. “How could something like this have been kept quiet?”

“Xcor was rejected by his mahmen at birth. His father, your father, did the same.”

“Because of his lip.”

“Yes. From what I understand, he lived with a nursemaid who hated the sight of him and treated him terribly until she left him.” There was a pause. “He told me he was chained outside of the place where he stayed. Like a dog.”

Tohr closed his eyes.

And as if Layla sensed his changing mood, her voice grew less strident, less angry. “He doesn’t know about you. As far as I’m aware, no one does.”

Tohr looked up sharply. “You’re keeping this from him?”

“No, he knows I have the information. But he says he doesn’t want it. That it doesn’t change the past and won’t impact his future.”

“This … it doesn’t alter what he did.”

“No, but I’m hoping it will alter what you do.”

Tohr fell silent. And as he stared off into space, it was hard to categorize his emotions into neat bundles like shock, sadness, anger, grief. Hell, was shock even an emotion? And shit, he couldn’t even figure out why he felt anything. It wasn’t like he’d been all father/son tight with Hharm, so why would finding out his sire had had yet another son matter? And as for Xcor? Not like there was any connection there.

Other than the proclamation he had to kill the bastard.

Which Layla was right, had been rescinded.

Lifting his head, he focused on the Chosen. Layla was staring at him from over by the door, her face as composed as a portrait even as her eyes were a little too shiny from their argument.

From their knock-down-drag-out fight.

“I’m sorry,” he said remotely. “For what just happened between you and me.”

She shook her head sharply. “I’m not going to apologize for who I love. In fact, I’m grateful this destiny is mine. If I had fallen for another, I wouldn’t have been forced to be this strong—and there is nothing wrong in this world or the next in finding out your own power.”

Amen to that, he thought.

“You do the right thing, Tohr,” she said. “Do you hear me? You make this right, and you make sure Xcor is not hurt out there.”

“I can’t control the whole world.”

“No, but you can control yourself. It’s a lesson I’m just learning.”

Layla returned to the ranch right away. As she entered through the slider, she closed herself in and listened. Xcor wasn’t back yet, and this was good. She didn’t want him to know what she had deduced about who had shot him, or for him to know that she had confronted a Brother on his behalf.

And then there was the whole thing about her revealing the information about his father.

Dearest Virgin—um, Oversexed Lassiter—she hoped Tohr kept his mouth shut. But she had done what she had to in order to get a cease-fire out of the Brother.