No'One wasn't among them as was usually the case.
Jogging up the stairs, he couldn't deny the arousal that got harder and harder the higher he went. But the erection didn't exactly make him happy.
You know as well as I do how much you haven't done.
When he got to his door, he gripped the knob and closed his eyes. Then, forcing the panels wide, he said, "No'One?"
Her shift would have been over for about an hour - Fritz had insisted that she have some time to ready herself for dining, something she had fought initially, but seemed to have been taking advantage of lately, as the Jacuzzi was always damp at its drain when he came back after fighting.
He hoped he wouldn't catch her in the tub. He wanted a shower, and didn't know how to handle the two of them in the bathroom naked together.
You know as well as I do -
"Shut. Up. " He dropped his weapons and started to shuck his muscle shirt and his shitkickers. "No'One? You here?"
Frowning, he leaned into the bathroom, and found a whole lot of nobody.
No fragrance in the air. No draining water in the tub. No towels out of place.
Weird.
With a scattered head, he went back out into the corridor, hit the grand staircase and put the hidden door underneath it to good use. As he went through the underground tunnel, he wondered if she was in the pool.
He hoped she wasn't. His cock prayed she was.
For godsakes, he didn't know what the fuck to think anymore.
Except. . . she wasn't floating, naked or otherwise, on its surface. And she wasn't where the washers and dryers were. Not in the weight room or the locker room or the gym restacking towels. Not in the clinic area putting fresh scrubs in the shelving, either.
She wasn't. . . there.
His trip back to the mansion took half the time of the jog out, and when he got to the kitchen, all he found was a shitload of doggen doing the dinner scurry.
Stretching his senses out for the first time, he discovered. . . she wasn't anywhere in the mansion.
A striking panic went through him, making his head hum -
No, wait, that was the sound of a. . . motorcycle?
The deep, rumbling growl made no sense. Unless Xhex had come home for some reason - which was good news for John -
No'One was out in front of the house. Right now.
Tracking his blood in her veins, he ran out across the foyer, shot through the vestibule, and. . . stopped dead on the top step of the entrance.
Xhex was on her Ducati, her black leather form fitting perfectly with the bike. And right behind her? No'One was sharing the seat, her hood off, her hair a frizzy mess, her smile as bright as the sun.
The expression changed as she saw him, tightening up.
"Hey," he said, feeling his heart rate start to return to normal.
Behind him, he sensed someone else come out of the vestibule. John.
Xhex glanced at her mate and nodded, but did not cut the engine. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "You okay there, Mom?"
"Yes, indeed. " No'One dismounted awkwardly, her robe resettling down at her feet as if it were relieved to have the joyride over with. "I shall see you tomorrow night?"
"Yup. I'll pick you up at three. "