Lover Reborn Read Online Free PDF Page A

okay? I absolve you, you absolve me, we were the victims, blah, blah, blah. We need to stipulate that and move along our separate ways.”
    “Are you sure that is what you want.”
    The female froze, then narrowed her eyes. “I know what you did. The night of my birth.”
    No’One took a step back. “How…”
    Xhexania pointed to her own chest. “
Symphath
, remember.” The fighter came forward, her gait like a prowl. “That means I get into people—so I can feel the fear you have right now. And the regrets. And the pain. Just standing in front of me, you’re right back where you were when it all happened—and yeah, I know you buried a dagger in your stomach rather than face a future with me. So like I said, how about you and I just avoid each other, and save both of us the hassle?”
    No’One lifted her chin. “Indeed, you are a half-breed.”
    Dark brows popped. “Excuse me?”
    “You sense but a portion of what I feel for you. Or perhaps you do not wish to acknowledge, for your own reasons, that I might wish to care for you.”
    In spite of the fact that the female was strung with weapons, she abruptly seemed vulnerable.
    “In your gruff self-protection, do not cut off avenues for us,” No’One whispered. “We do not need to force closeness if it is not there. But let us not stop it from blooming if there is a chance. Perhaps… perhaps you shall just tell me this night if there is some small way I can help you. We shall start there… and see what transpires.”
    Xhexania broke off and walked around, her tight, hard body more like a male’s, her dress more like a male’s, her energy masculine. She stopped when she was in front of the closet and, after a moment, pulled out the skirting of the red gown Tohrment had given her for the night of her mating.
    “Have you cleaned the satin?” No’One asked. “And I am not suggesting you have sullied it. Fine fabric must be cared for, however, in order to be preserved.”
    “I’d have no idea where to start on that one.”
    “Allow me, then?”
    “It’ll be fine.”
    “Please. Allow me.”
    Xhexania looked over. In a low voice, she said, “Why in God’s name would you want to do that?”
    The truth was as simple as four words, as complex as an entire language. “You are my daughter.”

THREE
     
    B ack in downtown Caldwell, Tohr shed the cold and the aches and the exhaustion that gumshoed him and went in pursuit once again: The scent of fresh
lesser
blood was like cocaine in his system, buzzing him up and giving him the strength to carry on.
    Behind him, he heard the other two closing in, and knew damn well they weren’t seeking enemy—but good fucking luck trying to get him back to the mansion. Dawn was the only thing that could do that.
    Besides, the more wiped out he was, the better shot he had at actually sleeping for an hour or two.
    As he rounded the corner of an alley, his shitkickers skidded to a halt. In front of him, seven
lessers
were circling a pair of fighters, but the centerpieces were not Z and Phury, or V and Butch, or Blaylock and Rhage.
    That was a scythe in the left one’s hands. A big-ass, sharply honed scythe.
    “Son of a bitch,” Tohr muttered.
    The male with the curving blade had his feet planted on the pavement like he was a god, his weapon poised, his ugly face smiling in anticipation as if he were about to sit down to a good meal. Next to him, a vampireTohr hadn’t see for aeons was nothing like the guy he’d once met in the Old Country.
    Looked as though Throe, son of Throe, had fallen in with a bad crowd.
    John and Qhuinn pulled up on either side of him, and the latter glanced over. “Tell me that isn’t our new neighbor.”
    “Xcor.”
    “Was he born with that puss or did someone make it for him?”
    “Who knows.”
    “Well, if that was supposed to be a nose job, he needs a new plastic surgeon.”
    Tohr looked over at John. “Call them off.”
    Excuse me?
the kid signed.
    “I know you texted the brothers