Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11) - J.R. Ward Page 0,65

Layla?” the doctor asked as they stepped into the warmth of the library. “I think you need to feed.”

Fuck.

As the mother hens in black leather behind him started clucking in support of that idea, Qhuinn’s eyes rolled back in his head. One crisis tonight was more than enough. The last thing he was interested in was explaining exactly why the Chosen could not be used as a blood source.

“You look woozy,” somebody said.

“I think he’s going over—”

Annnnnnd that was the last thing he heard for a while.

TWENTY-TWO

Across the river, at Havers’s clinic, Layla finally had to get off the examination table and wander around the little room. She had lost all track of time at this point. Indeed, it felt as though she had been staring at the four walls forever—and would be for the rest of her natural life upon the earth.

The only part of her that remained fresh and engaged was her mind. The unfortunate thing was that it relentlessly churned over what that nurse had said…that this was a miscarriage. That in all likelihood, she had conceived—

When the knock she’d been waiting for finally came, it was unexpected and made her jump.

“Come in?” she said.

The nurse who had been so kind entered…but appeared changed. She refused to meet Layla’s eyes, and her face was frozen in a mask. Draped over her arm was a bolt of white cloth, and she thrust the fabric forward while looking away. And then she dropped to a curtsy.

“Your grace,” she said in a shaky voice. “I…we…Havers…we had no idea.”

Layla frowned. “What are you—”

The nurse shook the robing, as if trying to get Layla to accept it. “Please. Put this on.”

“What is this about?”

“You have Chosen blood in you.” The nurse’s voice quavered. “Havers is…distraught.”

Layla struggled to comprehend the words. So this was not…about her pregnancy? “What— I don’t understand. Why is he…he’s upset because I am a Chosen?”

The other female blanched. “We thought you were…fallen?”

Layla put her hands over her eyes. “I may soon be—depending on what happens.” She did not have the energy for this. “Would someone just tell me what the test results are and what I need to do to take care of myself?”

The nurse fumbled with the draping, still trying to hand it over. “He can’t come back in here—”

“What?”

“Not if you’re…he cannot be in here with you. And he should never have—”

Layla jacked herself forward, her temper flaring. “Let me make myself perfectly clear—I want to talk to the doctor.” At the demand, the nurse actually looked up at her face. “I have a right to know what he found out about my body—you tell him to get in here now.”

There was nothing shrill in her voice. No high-pitched hysteria—just a flat, powerful tone she’d never heard come out of her mouth before.

“Go. And get him,” she commanded.

The nurse lifted the drapery up. “Please. Put this on. He’s…”

Layla forced herself not to yell. “I’m just another patient—”

The nurse frowned and squared her shoulders. “Excuse me, but that is not accurate. And as far as he’s concerned, he violated you during the exam.”

“What?”

The nurse just stared at her. “He’s a good male. A fine male who is very traditional in his ways—”

“What in the Scribe Virgin’s name does that have to do with anything?”

“The Primale can kill him for what he did to you.”

“During the exam? I consented—it was a medical procedure I needed!”

“It does not matter. He did something unlawful.”

Layla closed her eyes. She should have just used the Brotherhood’s clinic.

“You must realize where he’s coming from,” the nurse said. “You are of a hierarchy that we don’t come in contact with—and moreover, should not.”

“I have a beating heart and a body that requires help. That’s all he—and anybody else—needs to know. The flesh is the same.”

“The blood is not.”

“He must come see me—”

“He will not.”

Layla refocused on the female. And then put her hand upon her lower belly. For all of her life, up until now, she had lived on the side of the righteous, serving faithfully, discharging her duties, existing within the prescribed parameters that were dictated by others.

No more.

She narrowed her eyes. “You tell that doctor he either comes and tells me in person what is going on—or I will go to the Primale and recite word-for-word what happened in here.”

She deliberately shifted her stare to the machine that had been used during her internal exam.

As the nurse blanched, Layla felt no joy at the leverage she used. But there was no regret,