the fabulous hair. «I want everyone in my study in a half hour. We need to decide
what the hell to do with her.»
«Not… without me…» the patient said, his tone getting stronger.
«You don't get a vote.»
The patient shoved his palms into the mattress and sat up, even though it made his arms shake. «I
get all the votes when it comes to her.»
The towering man pointed a finger at the patient. «Fuck you.»
From out of nowhere, Jane's adrenaline kicked in.
Dream or no dream, she should to be counted in this happy conversation. Straightening in the
chair, she cleared her throat.
All eyes snapped to her.
«I want out of here,» she said in a voice she wished were less breathy and more ass-kicking.
«Now.»
The big man put a hand to the bridge of his nose, popped up the wraparounds, and rubbed his
eyes. «Thanks to him, that's not an immediate option. Phury, take care of her again, would you?»
«Are you going to kill me?» she asked in a rush.
«No,» the patient said. «You're going to be fine. You have my word.»
For a split second she believed him. Which was nuts. She didn't know where she was, and these
men were clearly thugs-
The one with the beautiful hair stepped in front of her. «You're just going to rest for a little bit
more.»
Yellow eyes met hers and suddenly she was a TV unplugged, her cord yanked out of the wall,
her screen blank.
Vishous stared at his surgeon as she slumped down once more in the armchair across the
bedroom.
«She all right?» he said to Phury. «You haven't fried her, true?»
«No, but she's got a strong mind. We want to get her out of here ASAP.»
Wrath's voice cracked through the air. «She should never have been brought here.»
Vishous eased gingerly back onto his bed, feeling like he'd been punched in the chest with a
cinder block. He wasn't particularly concerned that Wrath had his leathers in a knot. His surgeon
had to be here, and that was that. But at least he could tray-up a rationale.
«She can help me recover. Havers is complicated because of the Butch sitch.»
Wrath's stare was level behind his shades. «You think she'll want to help you after you had her
kidnapped? The Hippocratic oath only goes so far.»
«I'm hers.» V frowned. «I mean, she'll take care of me because she operated on me.»
«You're grasping at straws to justify-«
«Am I? I just had open-heart surgery because I was shot in the chest. Doesn't feel like straws to
me. You want to risk complications?»
Wrath glanced at the surgeon, then rubbed his eyes some more. «Shit. How long?»
«Till I'm better.»
The king's sunglasses dropped back onto his nose. «Heal fast, brother. I want her scrubbed and
out.»
Wrath left the room, shutting the door with a clap.
«That went well,» V said to Phury.
Phury, in his peacekeeping kind of way, murmured something about how everyone was under a
lot of stress, blah, blah, blah, then went over to the bureau to change the subject. He came back
to the bedside with a couple of handrails, one of V's lighters, and an ashtray.
«Know you'll want these. What kind of supplies is she going to need to treat you?»
V whipped a list up off the top of his head. With Marissa's blood in him, he was going to be back
on his feet fast, as her lineage was nearly pure: he'd just put high-test gas in his tank.
Thing was, though, he found himself not wanting to heal all that fast.
«She'll also need some clothes,» he said. «And food.»
«I'll take care of it.» Phury headed for the door. «You want something to eat?»
«No.» Just as the brother stepped out in the hall, V said, «Will you check on Butch?»
«Of course.»
After Phury left, V stared at the human woman. Her looks, he decided, were not so much
beautiful as compelling. Her face was square, her features almost masculine: No pouty lips. No
thick lashes. No arching, feminine-wile brows. And there were no big breasts pushing against the
white physician's coat she had on, no wildly curvy ins and outs as far as he could see.
He wanted her like she was a naked beauty queen begging to be served.
Mine. V's hips rotated, a flush spreading under his skin even though there was no way he should
have the energy to get sexed up.
God, the truth was, he had no remorse about kidnapping her. Matter of fact, it was preordained.
Just as Butch and Rhage had shown up in that hospital room he'd had his first vision in weeks.
He'd seen his surgeon standing in a doorway, framed in glorious white light. She'd