"Lover At Last" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ward, J.R.)

The Chosen Layla had existed in her own body without any physical compromise for the entirety of her existence. Born in the Scribe VirginтАЩs Sanctuary, and trained in the rarefied, preternatural peacefulness there, she had never known hunger, or fever, or pain of any note. Not heat nor cold, nor contusion, concussion, or contraction. Her body had been, as with all things in the mother of the raceтАЩs most sacred space, always the placid same, a perfect specimen functioning at the highest levelтАФ

тАЬOh, God,тАЭ she gulped as she shot out of bed and lurched into the bathroom.

Her bare feet skidded on the marble as she threw herself to her knees, popped the toilet seat, and leaned over to go face-to-face with the bowlтАЩs epiglottal hole.

тАЬJustтАжdo itтАж.тАЭ she gasped as the rolling nausea polluted her body until even her toes curled under and grabbed at the floor. тАЬPleaseтАжfor the Scribe VirginтАЩs sakeтАжтАЭ

If she could just empty the contents of her stomach, surely the torture would relentтАФ

Taking her fore- and middle fingers into her throat, she shoved them in so hard she choked. But that was the extent of it. There was no coordination of her diaphragm, no release of the greasy spoiled meat in her stomachтАжnot that sheтАЩd actually eaten thatтАФor anything elseтАФforтАжhow long had it been? Days.

Mayhap that was the problem.

Snaking her arm around her hips, she put her sweaty forehead on the hard, cool lip of the toilet and tried to breathe shallowlyтАФbecause the sensation of air moving up and down the back of her throat made the impotent urge to throw up worse.

Mere days ago, when she had been in her needing, her body had taken control, the urge to mate strong enough to wipe out all thought and emotion. That supremacy had quickly passed, however, and likewise had the aches and pains from the relentless mating, her skin and bones once again resuming their backseat to her brain.

The balance was tipping back once more.

Giving up, she carefully repositioned herself, placing her shoulders against the blessedly chilly marble wall.

Considering how sickly she felt, her only extrapolation was that she was losing the pregnancy. SheтАЩd never seen anyone in the Sanctuary go through thisтАФwas this illness what was normal here on earth?

Closing her eyes, she wished she could talk to someone about it all. But very few knew her conditionтАФand for the time being, she needed to keep things that way: Most were completely unaware that she had gone through her needing or been serviced. AutumnтАЩs fertile period had hit first, and in response, the Brotherhood had scattered far and wide as there was no taking chances with exposure to those hormonesтАФfor good reason, as she had learned firsthand. By the time people had returned to their normal rooms in the mansion? Her own had passed, and any residual hormonal fluxes in the air had been chalked up by all and sundry to AutumnтАЩs fading time.

The privacy in these two rooms of hers was not going to last if the pregnancy continued, however. For one, her status would be sensed by the others, especially males, who were particularly attuned to that sort of thing.

And two, after a while, she would begin to show.

Except if she felt this bad, how ever could the young survive?

As a vague sensation of tightness settled into her lower belly, like her pelvis was being compressed by an invisible vise, she tried to train her mind on something, anything other than her physical sensations.

Eyes the color of the night sky came to her.

Penetrating eyes, eyes that stared up from a face that was bloodied and distortedтАжand beautiful even in its ugliness.

Okay. This was not an improvement.

Xcor, leader of the Band of Bastards. A traitor against the king, a hunted male who was enemy to the Brotherhood and lawful vampires everywhere. The fierce warrior who had been born of a noble mother who did not want him because of his visage, and an unknown father who had never claimed parentage. An unwanted burden shuffled from home to orphanage until heтАЩd entered the BloodletterтАЩs training camp back in the Old Country. A remorseless fighter trained therein to great effect; then, in his maturity, a master of death who toured the land with a band of elite fighters first aligned to the Bloodletter himself, and thereafter, to XcorтАФand no one else.

The information trail at the SanctuaryтАЩs library ended there because none of the Chosen were updating anything anymore. The rest, however, she could fill in herself: The Brotherhood believed the attempt on WrathтАЩs life back in the fall had been made by Xcor, and she had further heard there were insurrectionists within the glymera working with the fighter.

Xcor. A traitorous, brutal male with no conscience, no loyalty, no principle save to serve himself.

Yet when she had looked into his eyes, when she had been in his presence, when she had unknowingly fed this new enemyтАжshe had felt like a full female for the first time in her life.