the-
Mine.
On the heels of the word, an all-powerful need to mark her lit him up. He wanted to get her
naked and underneath him and covered with his scent as he pumped into her body. He saw it
happening, saw them skin-to-skin on the bed, him on top of her with her legs split wide to
accommodate his hips and his cock.
As she brought the tray of food over his temperature spiked, and what was doing between his
legs throbbed like a bitch. Surreptitously he bunched the blankets up so that nothing showed.
She put the food down and lifted the silver lid off the plate.
«So how much better do you have to be for me to leave?» Her eyes went over his chest, all
medical assessment, as if she were measuring what was under the bandages.
Ah, hell. He wanted her to look at him as a male. He wanted those eyes of hers going over his
skin not to check a surgical wound, but because she was thinking about putting her hands on him
and wondering where to start.
V closed his eyes and rolled away, grunting at the pain in his chest. He told himself the ache was
from the surgery. Suspected it was more because of the surgeon.
«I'll pass on the food. Next time they come in I'll ask for some.»
«You need this more than I do. And I'm worried about your fluid intake.»
Actually, he was fine, because he'd fed. With enough blood vampires could survive a number of
days without sustenance.
Which was great. Cut down on the trips to the bathroom.
«I want you to eat this,» she said, staring down at him. «As your physician-«
«I will not take from your plate.» For God's sake, no male of worth would ever rob his female of
food, not even if he was starved to the point of dizziness. Her needs always came first-
V felt like putting his head in a car door and slamming it a couple of dozen times. Where the hell
was this manual of mating behavior coming from? It was like someone had loaded new software
into his brain.
«Okay,» she said, turning away. «Fine.»
Next thing he heard was banging. She was pounding on the door.
V sat upright. «What the hell are you doing?» Butch flew into the room, nearly knocking V's
surgeon off her feet. «What's wrong?»
V cut into the drama with, «Nothing-«
The surgeon spoke over them both, all calm authority. «He needs food, and he won't eat what's
on that tray. Bring him something simple and easy to digest. Rice. Chicken. Water. Crackers.»
«Okay.» Butch leaned to the side and looked at V. There was a long pause. «How you doing?»
Fucked in the head, thanks. «Fine.»
But at least there was one good thing going. The cop was back to normal, his eyes clear, his
stance strong, his scent a combination of Marissa's ocean smell and his bonding mark. He'd
obviously been getting busy.
Interesting. Usually when V thought about those two together, his chest felt like it was wrapped
in barbed wire. Now? He was just glad his friend was healthy.
«You look great, Cop.»
Butch smoothed his silk pin-striped shirt. «Gucci can turn anyone into a rock star.»
«You know what I mean.»
Those familiar hazels grew serious. «Yeah. Thanks… as always.» In the awkward moment,
words hovered in the air between them, things that couldn't be said with any kind of audience.
«So… I'll be back with chow.»
As the door shut Jane glanced over her shoulder. «How long have you been lovers?»
Her eyes met his, and there was no getting out of the question.
«We're not.»
«You sure about that?»
«Trust me.» For no particular reason he looked at her white coat. « 'Dr. Jane Whitcomb,'» he read.
» 'Trauma.'» Made sense. She had that kind of confidence. «So I was in bad shape when I came
in?»
«Yeah, but I saved your ass, didn't I.»
A wave of awe came over him. She was his rhalman, his savior. They were bonded-
Yeah, whatever. Right now and his savior was inching away from him, backing up until she hit
the far wall. He closed his lids, knowing his eyes were glowing. The retreat, the horror in her
face, stung like hell.
«Your eyes,» she said in a thin voice.
«Don't worry about it.»
«What the hell are you?» Her tone suggested freak could easily be the descriptor, and God,
wasn't she right about that.
«What are you?» she repeated.
It was tempting to front, but there was no way she would buy it. Besides, lying to her made him
feel dirty.
Leveling his stare on her, he said in a low voice, «You know what I am. You're smart enough to
know.»
Long silence. Then: «I can't believe it.»
«You're
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