Vishous's voice was steady and sure. Almost kind, which was a new one.
Lifting her chin, she met icy, diamond eyes. "Verily, you will have to kill me and drag my body out of here if you wish me to leave."
The Brother frowned. "Look, we're bringing in a dangerous - "
A sudden, subtle growling appeared to surprise the male. Silly, she thought, considering he was making the -
No. He was not.
She was. That warning was rising up out of her own chest, breaching her own lips.
Cutting the sound off, she pronounced, "I shall stay. Which room are you treating him in?"
V blinked, as if he were dumbfounded and unfamiliar with the sensation. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder at his mate. "Ah, Jane - where are you working on Tohr?"
"Right here. Throe's going into our second OR - fewer doors, so there's less of an escape risk."
The Brother turned away and walked off, but it was just to get a stool and bring it over to her. "This is in case you get tired of standing."
Then he left her be.
Dearest Virgin Scribe, who walked into enemy fire unprotected? she wondered.
The answer, when it came to her, made her gut seize up: someone who wanted to be killed in the line of duty. That was who.
Mayhap it would be better if Layla fed him. Less complicated - no. Not less so. The Chosen was incredibly beautiful, without a deformity of any sort. Yes, he had stated that he wanted no one in a sexual manner, but a male's resolve could be sorely tested by a female who looked like that. And any such response would kill him.
No'One was better for him.
Yes, that was right. She would handle his needs.
As she continued to justify things to herself, the fact that the idea of him at the fair Chosen's throat made her curiously violent was nothing she wanted to examine too closely.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Throe came awake in a void. He had no sight, no hearing, and no feeling in his body, as if the surrounding darkness had claimed him in his entirety.
Ah, so this was Dhund, he thought. The opposite of the illuminated Fade. The shadowy place where those who had sinned upon the earth were locked for eternity.
This was the Omega's hell, and indeed, it was hot.
His belly was on fire -
"No, you're wrong. That lesser was shot from above, too. Someone else was at the scene."
Throe's senses came quickly upon him, ushering away the void sure as sunrise over the landscape - but he was careful not to change his breathing or move: That male was not one of his fellow soldiers.
And neither was the second who spoke: "What are you talking about?"
"When I went over to stab him back to the Omega, he was riddled with bullets, some of which could only have been discharged from a vantage point above him. I'm telling you, the top of his skull, his shoulders, that shit was a mess."
"Any of our boys up there?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
A third voice said, "Nope. We were all at ground level."
"Someone else took the f**ker out. Tohr put some lead into him, sure, but that wasn't all - "
"Shut it. Our guest's come around."
With the ruse over, Throe opened his eyes. Ah, yes. This was not Dhund - but damn close to it: The whole of the Black Dagger Brotherhood lined the walls of the room he was in, the males staring at him with aggression in their marrow. And that was not all. There were some others with them, soldiers, clearly... as well as that female, the one who had killed the Bloodletter.
As well as the great Blind King.
Throe focused on Wrath. The male had on dark spectacles, but even so, the consuming stare behind those lenses felt very obvious. Indeed, the most important vampire on the planet was as he had always been, a massive fighter, with the cunning of a master strategist, the expression of an executioner, and a body strong enough to follow through on both of those accounts.
Aptly named, he was.
And Xcor had chosen a very, very dangerous adversary.
The king stepped up to the bedside. "My surgeons saved your life."
"I do not doubt it," Throe rasped out. Dearest Virgin Scribe, his throat was sore.
"So the way I look at it, under normal circumstances, a male of worth would owe me. But given who you're in bed with, the normal rules don't apply."
Throe swallowed a couple of times. "My first allegiance, my only... one... is to my family - "
"Some f**king family," the Brother Vishous muttered.
"My blooded relations, that is. My... beloved sister - "
"I thought she was dead."
Throe glared at the fighter. "She is."
The king stepped in between the pair of them. "Yada, yada, yada - here's the deal. You'll be released when you're well enough, free to go out and tell the world that me and my boys are as compassionate and fair as Mother f**king Teresa, in spite of who your boss is - "
"Was."
"Whatever. Bottom line, you're welcome to stay in one piece - "
"Unless you pop shit," Vishous interjected.
The king glared at the Brother. " - as long as you act like a gentleman. We'll even get you someone to feed from. The sooner you're out of here, the better."
"And if I wanted to battle alongside you?"
Vishous spit on the floor. "We don't take traitors - "
Wrath's eyes whipped around. "V. Shut your motherfucking face. Or you're out in the hall."
Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, was not the kind of male anyone addressed like that. Except, apparently, for Wrath. In this case, the Brother with the tattoos on his face and the perverted reputation and the hand of death did exactly what he was told. He shut the f**k up.
Which said volumes about Wrath. Did it not.
The king turned back. "But I wouldn't mind knowing who cut you."
"Xcor."
Wrath's nostrils flared. "And he left you for dead?"
"Aye." On some level, he still couldn't believe it. Which marked him as stupid. "Aye... he did."
"Is that the reason your own blood is your allegiance now?"
"No. That has e'er been true."
Wrath nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "You tell the truth."
"Always."
"Well, good thing you quit them now, son. The Band of Bastards is kicking at a hornets' nest the likes of which they will not walk away from."
"Verily... there is nothing I can say that you do not already know."
Wrath laughed softly. "A diplomat."
Vishous cut in with, "Try dead animal - "
Wrath's hand shot up into the air, the black diamond of the king's ring flashing. "Somebody get that mouth out of this room. Or I'll do it."
"I'm f**king leaving."
After the Brother marched out, the king rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Enough with the talking. You look like shit - where's Layla?"
Throe began to shake his head. "I have no need for blood - "
"Bullshit. And you are not dying on our watch just so Xcor can accuse us of killing you. I'm not giving him that kind of weapon." As the king started for the door, Throe realized for the first time that there was a dog at the male's side - wearing a halter that Wrath grasped. Was he truly blind? "Needless to say, this is going to be witnessed - Oh, hey, Chosen."
Throe's entire brain shut down as a vision entered the room. An absolute... vision. Tall, and fair of hair and eye, dressed in a white robe, it was indeed a Chosen.
Such a beauty was she, he thought. A sunrise that lived and breathed... a miracle.
And she was not alone, as was appropriate for a gem such as herself. By her side, Phury, son of Ahgony, was a wall of protection, his face screwed down so tight, it appeared as if mayhap she was his? He even had a black dagger in his hand - although it was discreetly held by his thigh, undoubtedly so the female did not see it and grow alarmed.
"I'll leave you to this," Wrath said. "But if I were you, I'd watch yourself. My boys here, they're a little twitchy."
After the great Blind King left with the blond dog, Throe was alone with the Brothers, the soldiers... and that female.
As she came forward into the room, her smile was a wellspring of peace and femininity in the midst of the vile trappings of war and death, and if he hadn't been lying down, he'd have sunk to his knees in awe.
It had been so long since he had been 'round any female of worth. Verily, he had grown too used to the whores and the prostitutes, whom he treated like ladies out of habit, but not concern.
His eyes teared up.
She reminded him of who his sister should have been.
Phury stepped up in front of her, blocking the view as he leaned down and put his mouth right to Throe's ear. As he squeezed Throe's biceps until it screamed in pain, the Brother growled softly, "You get hard and I'll castrate you as soon as she leaves."
Well... if that wasn't crystal clear. And a quick glance around the room suggested that Phury wasn't the only one who would come after him. The other Brothers would fight for pieces of his dead carcass if he became aroused.
Straightening to his full height, Phury smiled at the female as if there was nothing of any concern going on. "This soldier is very grateful for the gift of your vein, Chosen. Aren't you."
The "asshole" went unsaid. And the grip that once again tightened on Throe's upper arm was just as hidden and emphatic.
"I am e'er grateful, your grace," he breathed.
At that, the Chosen smiled at Throe, stealing his breath. "If I may be in even a small way helpful to a male of worth such as yourself, I am blessed. There is no greater service to the race than fighting the enemy."
"I can think of at least one more," somebody said under their breath.
As Phury motioned her to come to the bedside, Throe could only stare up into her face, his heart struggling to decide whether to pound or stop altogether. And whilst he imagined what she could possibly taste like, he tried not to lick his lips - for surely that would fall under the prohibited-activities list. He also sternly reminded his sex to stay flaccid or lose its two stupid best mates.
"I am not worthy," he said softly to her.
"Damn f**king straight," someone growled.
The Chosen frowned over her shoulder. "Oh, but surely he is. Anyone who wields a dagger with honor against the lessers is worthy." She looked down at him again. "Sire, may I serve you now?"
Oh... damn.
Her words went straight to his cock: Right up the shaft, which thickened instantly, to the tip, which promptly stung with need.
Throe closed his eyes and prayed for strength. And bad aim for the Brothers. Neither of which would likely be granted -
Her wrist was close to his lips - he could smell it.
Eyes flaring open, he saw her fragile vein within striking distance - and, merciful Virgin Scribe save him, all he could think about was reaching out to her, caressing her smooth cheek -
A black blade forced his arm back down. "No touching," Phury said darkly.
Well... at least if that was all the Brother was worried about, obviously he had not caught on to the issue below the waist. And short of agreeing to have himself neutered, Throe would do anything to have this happen - so no touching was good.
No touching was fine with him....
As Tohr lay in his bed, he came awake with the thought it was a little early to be sleeping. Shouldn't he be out fighting? Why was he -
"Get Layla in here stat," a male voice barked. "We can't operate until his blood pressure is up - "
Say what? Tohr wondered. Whose blood pressure was bad...?
"She'll be there ASAP," came a far-off response.
Were they talking about him? Nah, they couldn't be -
As he popped opened his eyes, the industrial chandelier hanging right over his face cleared things up fast. This wasn't his bedroom; this was the clinic in the training center. And they were talking about him.
Everything came back in a flash. Him stepping out from behind that Dumpster. His body getting drilled as he walked forward, opening fire. Him shooting until he stood over the slumped, stinking form of that slayer.
After that, he'd wobbled back and forth, like a stick only partially drilled into the ground.
Then it had been lights out.
With a groan, he went to push himself up, but his palm slipped on the padding of the gurney. Guess he was leaking -
Manello's handsome puss popped into his line of vision, replacing the bright-and-shiny of the light fixture. Wow - check out that expression. The bastard looked like someone had just gotten him tickets to Disneyland. Surprise!
"You shouldn't be conscious."
"That bad, huh."
"Maybe a little worse. No offense, but what the f**k were you thinking?" The good surgeon pivoted and jogged to the door, shoving his head out into the corridor. "We need Layla in here! Now!"
At that, there was some conversation, but he couldn't track any of it, and not because he was injured. In spite of all the owie-owie, his body had a huge opinion about who he was going to feed from - and as far as it was concerned, as lovely as the Chosen was, it was not going to be her.
And it was a shock to realize why.
He wanted No'One. Even though it wasn't fair -
"I shall do it. I shall take care of him."
At the sound of No'One's voice, Tohr gritted his teeth, and felt a surge go through him. Turning his head, he looked past the rolling tables of operating instruments... and there she was in the far corner, her hood in place, her body still, her hands churning under the robe's sleeves.
The instant he saw her, his fangs elongated, and his body filled out its own skin, the residual numbness receding and revealing all kinds of sensation: pain at the side of his neck, his ribs, and under his arm; tingling at the tips of his canines sure as if he had already struck; hunger in his gut - for her.
Starvation in his c**k - for her.
Shit.
He quickly camo'd the arousal by yanking the surgical drape around and holding it to the front of his hips.
"Okay, you shouldn't be able to sit up," Manny muttered.
Was he? Oh, hey, check it... And as for the doctor's second dose of surprise? Nice guy, but he was being a dumb-ass human when it came to the feeding thing. With this kind of hunger for that particular female? Tohr was frickin' Superman, capable of bench-pressing a Hummer while he juggled Smart Cars with his free hand.