Lover Unleashed (28 page)

Would the female have hurt herself worse if there hadn’t been a humane way of doing it? One hundred percent, yes.

Jane didn’t agree with the female’s thinking or of her choice. But she was clear on the ethics, as tragic as they were.

And she was determined that Vishous hear her side of it.

Instead of running, she was going to stay put so that when he came home, she would be waiting for him and they could see if there was anything left of their life together. She wasn’t fooling herself. This might well not be something they could work through, and she didn’t blame him if that was the case. Family was family, after all. But she had done what the situation had called for according to the duty she had to her patient. Which was what doctors did, even when it cost them . . . everything they had.

Getting up, she picked hangers off the floor until she got to the closet. There were a lot of them in and around the boots and shoes, so she bent down, reaching into the back—

Her hand hit something soft. Leather—but it was not shitkicker.

Sitting back on her heels, she brought whatever it was with her.

“What the hell?” V’s fighting leathers didn’t belong shoved behind the shoes—

There was something on the cowhide—Wait. It was wax. It was black wax. And . . .

Jane put her hand over her mouth and let the pants slip out of her grip.

She’d given him enough orgasms to know what they looked like on his leathers. And that wasn’t the only stain. There was blood. Red blood.

With a dreadful sense of inevitability, she reached into the closet once more and patted around until she felt a shirt. Pulling it out, she found more blood and wax.

The night he’d gone to the Commodore. It was the only explanation : These were not ancient, forgotten relics, the dusty remnant of a life he’d previously led. Hell, the scent of the wax still clung to the fibers and hide.

She knew the instant Vishous walked into the doorway behind her.

Without looking up, she said, “I thought you weren’t with anyone else.”

His response was a long time coming. “I wasn’t.”

“Then can you explain these?” She held up the leathers, but come on, like there was anything else in the room?

“I was not with anyone else.”

She threw them back into the closet and tossed the muscle shirt in there as well. “To coin a phrase you yourself have used, I have nothing to say right now. I truly don’t.”

“You honestly think I could fuck something on the side.”

“What the hell are those clothes, then?”

He didn’t respond. He just stood there looming over her, so tall and strong . . . and strangely foreign, even though she knew his body and face as well as her own.

She waited for him to speak. Waited some more. And to pass the time, she reminded herself that his upbringing had been a bitch and that remaining stoic and unyielding had been the only way to survive.

Except that rationale simply wasn’t enough. At some point, the love they had deserved better than silence that was grounded in the past.

“Was it Butch?” she said, hoping that was the case. At least if it was V’s best friend, she knew that any release had been incidental. Butch was a totally faithful guy to his mate and he would do any Doming only because it was the strange, dark medicine V needed to keep level. As bizarre as it sounded,
that
she could understand and get past.

“Was it?” she said. “Because I can deal with that.”

Vishous seemed momentarily surprised, but then he shook his head. “Nothing happened.”

“Then are you telling me I’m blind?” she croaked. “Because unless you give me a better explanation, all I have are these leathers . . . and the pictures in my mind that are making me sick.”

Silence, only silence.

“Oh, God . . . how could you?” she whispered.

V just shook his head, and said in the same tone, “Right back at you.”

Well, at least she had a reason for what had happened with Payne. And she hadn’t lied about it.

After a moment, V stepped into the room and picked up a duffel bag that was empty of his gym clothes. “Here. You’re going to need this.”

With that, he tossed it over . . . and walked away.

TWENTY-THREE

D
own in the exam room, Payne’s healer was looking halfdead, but entirely happy with his partial demise.

As she waited for him to answer her question, she was rather more concerned with his condition than he was. His blood had been shockingly rich on her tongue, the dark wine slipping to the back of her throat and tunneling into her, flooding not just her gut but her whole body.

It was the first time she’d ever taken a vein at the neck. Chosen, when they were in the Sanctuary, required not the sustenance of blood, nor did they cycle through their needings. And that was when one wasn’t in suspended animation, as she had been.

And she barely remembered feeding from Wrath’s wrist.

Strange . . . the two bloods had tasted much the same, though the flavor of the king’s had been bolder.

“What is this coming?” she repeated.

Her healer cleared his throat. “It’s . . . ah, what happens when you’re into someone and you’re with them.”

“Show me.”

The laughter that came out of him was velvety and deep. “I would love to. Trust me.”

“Is it something I . . . can make you do?”

He coughed a little. “You already have.”

“Really?”

Her healer nodded slowly, his eyelids dropping low. “You most certainly did. So I need a shower.”

“And then you will show me.” It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. And as his arms tightened up on her, she had the sense he was aroused. “Yes,” she growled. “You shall show me everything.”

“I’ll so fucking do that,” he said darkly.
“Everything.”

When he stared at her as if he knew secrets she couldn’t begin to guess at, she realized, even with the paralysis, that this was worth living for. This connection and excitement were worth more than her legs, and she had a sudden, stark terror that she had nearly missed this.

She had to thank her twin properly. But however could she balance this gift?

“Let me take you back to your room.” Her healer stood up smoothly, in spite of her weight. “After I’m cleaned off, we’ll start with a sponge bath for you.”

Her nose crinkled in distaste. “How clinical.”

There was more of that secret smile of his. “Not the way I’m going to do it. Trust me.” He paused. “Hey, any chance you can hit the lights for me so I don’t bump us into something? You’re glowing, but I’m not sure it’s enough to go by.”

Payne had a moment of confusion—until she lifted her arm. Her healer was right. She was softly aglow, her skin casting a faint phosphorescence. . . . Perhaps this was her sexual response?

Logical, she thought. For the way he made her feel on the inside was as uncontainable as happiness and as luminous as hope.

When she willed the lights back on and unlocked the doors, he shook his head and started walking. “Damn. You’ve got some fancy tricks there, woman.”

Perhaps, but not the ones she wanted. She would love to give him back what he had shared with her . . . but she had no secrets to teach him and no blood to gift him with, as not only did humans not require such a thing, but it was capable of killing them.

“I wish I could repay you,” she murmured.

“For what?”

“Coming herein and showing me . . .”

“My buddy? Yeah, he’s an inspiration.”

For truth, ’twas more about the man in the flesh than the one on the screen. “Indeed,” Payne demurred.

Back in the recovery room, he took her to the bed and laid her out with such care, arranging the sheeting and blankets so that no part of her was bare . . . taking the time to resettle the equipment that dealt with her bodily functions . . . plumping the pillows behind her head.

Whilst he worked, he always covered his hips with something. A part of the bedding. The two halves of his coat. And then he stood on the far side of the rolling table.

“Comfortable?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ll be right back. Holler if you need me, okay?”

Her healer disappeared into the bathroom and the door shut most of the way—but not completely. A shaft of light pierced through into the stall of the falling water and she saw clearly his white-coated arm reach in, turn a handle, and call forth the warm rain.

Clothes were removed. All of them.

And then there was a brief glimpse of glorious flesh as he stepped under the spray and closed the glass partition. As the auditory rhythm of the water changed, she knew his naked form was breaking up the free fall.

What did he look like, sluiced with water, slick and warm and so very male?

Pushing herself up off the pillows, she leaned to the side . . . and leaned a little more . . . and leaned more still until she was all but hanging off....

Ah, yeeees. His body was in profile, but she saw plenty: Carved with musculature, his chest and arms were heavy over tight hips and long, powerful legs. A dusting of dark hair sat upon his pectorals and formed a line that went o’er his abdomen and down, down . . . so far down....

Damn it, she could not see enough, and her curiosity was too desperate and driving to ignore.

What did his sex look like? Feel like . . .

With a curse, she awkwardly shuffled herself around so that she was on the end of the bed. Angling her head, she made the very best of the limited exposure of that crack in the doorway. But as she had moved, so had he, and he was now facing away from her, his back and his . . . lower body . . .

She swallowed hard and stretched upward to see even more. As he unwrapped the cleansing bar, water streamed across his shoulder blades and rivered o’er his spine, flowing onto his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. And then his hand appeared on the nape of his neck, the frothy suds he had called up in his palms going the way of the water as he washed his body.

“Turn about . . .” she whispered. “Let me see all of you. . . .”

The desire for her eyes to get greater access only increased as his soapy ministrations went below his waist. Lifting one leg, and then the other, his hands were tragically efficient as they went o’er his thighs and calves.

She knew when he tended to his sex. Because his head fell back and his hips curled up tight.

He was thinking of her. She was sure of it.

And then he spun around.

It happened so fast that as their eyes met, both of them recoiled.

Even though she had been caught and then some, she shambled back against the pillows, and resumed her former position, restraightening the blankets he had been so careful with. With her face aflame, she wanted to hide—

A sharp squeak echoed through the room, and she glanced up. He had burst forth from the bathroom, the shower left open and running, soap still clinging to his abdominals and dripping from off . . .

His sex was a magnificent shock. Standing out from his body, the rod of him was hard and thick and proud.

“You . . .”

He said something further, but she was too captivated to care, too enthralled to notice. Deep within her, a wellspring was released, her sex swelling and preparing itself to accept him.

“Payne,” he demanded, covering himself with his hands.

Instantly, she was ashamed and put her palms to her hot cheeks. “Verily, I am sorry I spied upon you.”

Her human gripped the edge of the doorway. “Not that . . .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Are you aware of what you were doing?”

She had to laugh. “Yes. Believe in this, my healer—I was totally aware of what I was regarding so thoroughly.”

“You were sitting up, Payne. You were up on your knees at the end of the bed.”

Her heart stopped. Surely she could not have heard him right.

Surely.

As Payne frowned, Manny lurched forward—and then realized he was really fucking naked. Which was a condition that occurred when a guy didn’t just have his ass in the breeze, but was totally and completely, ball-numbingly erect as he pulled a birthday suit. Reaching into the bathroom, he snagged a towel, wrapped it around his hips, and
then
went over to the bed.

“I . . . no, you must be wrong,” Payne said. “I couldn’t have—”

“You did—”

“I had merely stretched upon—”

“How did you get to the end of the bed, then. And how did you get back where you are?”

Her eyes went to the short footboard, confusion drawing her brows in tight. “I do not know. I was . . . watching you and you were all I knew.”

The man in him was astounded and . . . strangely transformed. To be wanted that much by someone like her?

But then the physician in him took over. “Here, let me see what’s doing, okay?”

He untucked the sheets and blanket from the end of the bed and rolled them up to the tops of her thighs. Using his finger, he ran it across the sole of her pretty foot.

He expected it to twitch. It didn’t.

“Anything?” he said.

When she shook her head, he repeated on the other side. Then he moved higher, wrapping his palms around her slender ankles. “Anything?”

Her eyes were tragic as they met his. “I feel nothing. And I do not understand what you think you saw.”

He moved higher, to her calves. “You were on your knees. I swear to it.”

Higher still, to her taut thighs.

Nothing.

Christ, he thought. She had to have had some control over her legs. There was no other explanation. Unless . . . he’d been seeing things.

“I do not understand,” she repeated.

Neither did he, but he was going to damn well figure it out. “I’m going to go review your scans. I’ll be right back.”

Out in the exam room, he got some help from the nurse and accessed Payne’s medical record via the computer. With practiced efficiency, he went through everything: vitals, exam notes, X-rays—he even found the stuff he’d done to her at St. Francis, which was a surprise. He hadn’t a clue how they’d gotten access to that original MRI—he’d erased the file nearly as soon as it had gone into the medical center’s system. But he was glad to see it again, that was for sure.