Page 110 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
Leander whispered, “Dreamwalkers?”
“I think they’ve been trying to tell me that something bad is coming. Something catastrophic. And they . . . and they’re going to . . .” Olivia faltered, glancing back to the bassinette. She wrapped her arms around her body, closed her eyes, and began to rock back and forth as if trying to comfort herself. As if deeply frightened.
Jenna touched Leander’s arm, watching Olivia. She said, “We’re all tired. This can wait until morning. Grayson left with the others; will you see she gets home safely?” Her husband looked shell-shocked as he glanced down into the crib then back at Jenna in mute dismay.
“Please,” she said, when he still hesitated. “I’d like to talk to Hawk alone. Just for a moment.”
Leander’s expression transformed from dismayed to murderous. He sent Hawk a stare that could have frozen molten lava. It was crystal clear what he thought of this idea.
Jenna lifted a hand and stroked her fingers lightly down Leander’s cheek. He turned his attention back to her and she smiled up at him. “I missed you, too,” she murmured, then rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a tight hug.
Hawk looked away, but heard what Leander whispered into his wife’s ear.
“Five minutes, woman. When I get back, you’d better be waiting in bed. And you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
He released her, crossed to Olivia, and took her gently by the arm. He led her from the room, stopping briefly at the top of the curved stairway to give Jenna a last, lingering look before leaving.
He sent Hawk a last look, too, this one not nearly as nice.
When he was gone, Jenna collapsed onto the settee. She crumpled boneless to the cushions as if it had taken all her strength to remain standing until now, and her knees could no longer support her weight.
Hawk leapt into motion and went to her. “Your Highness—”
“I’m fine,” she said, waving him away. Unconvinced, he squatted on the floor in front of her, ready to assist in any way he could. Her head was in her hands, and through her fingers and a curtain of golden hair, she peeked at him. “And you don’t have to call me that. In fact, I insist you don’t. It’s so . . . pretentious.” She sighed, a heavy exhalation accompanied by a shudder, and Hawk thought he’d never seen anyone so weighted, her thoughts and responsibilities and the looming threat of war wrapped around her shoulders like a mantle made of stone.
“What would you like me to call you, then?”
She sat up, and pushed her hair out of her face. “She Who Must Be Obeyed.”
Though her expression was solemn, her green eyes twinkled as she spoke, and Hawk realized she was teasing him.
“I know several bossy females who’d appreciate being called that,” he said in utter seriousness, and the Queen’s lips curled.
“Bossy?” she said with arched brows. “Aren’t you the brave one?”
“No, just exceptionally stupid.”
She laughed at that, and for a moment the weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. “Yes, that’s the testosterone. But we ‘females’ have to deal with estrogen, which makes us a little crazy.”
“Actually I think it makes you tough,” he replied, all humor gone. “Tougher than we are because you feel things even more deeply than we do, and if I had to feel anything more deeply than I already do, I’d probably throw myself off a cliff. Strike that—I would throw myself off a cliff. I don’t know how you handle it.”
She peered at him, trying to ascertain if he was mocking her. Apparently satisfied he wasn’t, she patted the cushion beside her, inviting him to sit.
He did. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, staring at one another. When the silence grew too uncomfortable, Hawk said, “I hope you’re not trying to debate whether to take your dragon form and bite off my head. I could probably survive without it, seeing how I hardly ever use it, but I’ve gotten used to having it around. I’m sentimental that way.”
“Humor,” she said, “is something I’ve really missed. Consider your head s
afe.” She amended, “For the moment.”
Unsure whether she was now teasing him or not, Hawk simply inclined his head.
After another uncomfortable pause wherein she examined his face in such a way that made him feel almost naked, she said quietly, “It’s not easy, is it?”
“Life?”
“Love.”
He looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. Not easy. That might be the understatement of the century. He didn’t want her to think him a coward, but he also didn’t have the energy to lie. And he didn’t think anything he said would make a damn bit of difference one way or another, so he just went with the truth.
