Lover Unleashed

TWENTY-ONE

When Vishous pushed open the door to the exam room, he got a gander at the kind of seating arrangement that made him think fondly of castration.

Which, considering his own experience with the knife-on-the-’nads routine, was saying a lot.

Then again, his sister was all but straddling that ass-wipe human’s Mr. Happy, the man’s arms around her, their heads all nestled in. Except they weren’t looking at each other—and that was the only reason he didn’t break up the party: They were staring at the computer screen . . . at a man in a wheelchair racing a bunch of other guys.

“. . . Height is just a vertical number—it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to your character or the kind of life you live.”

“Can you move the . . . that thing?”

For some reason, V’s heart pounded as the human showed his sister how to work a mouse. And then he heard something that gave him reason for hope:

“I can do this,” she said.

“That’s the point,” Manello said softly. “You can do anything.”

Well, shit—the gamble had come up aces, hadn’t it: V had been willing to throw that human back into the mix briefly, just to get her past the suicidal impulse. Except he’d never once thought the guy would give her anything more than a case of puppy love.

And yet, here the motherfucker was . . . showing her so much more than how to kiss.

V had wanted to be the one to save her—and he supposed by bringing in Manello, he might have, but why hadn’t he done more sooner? Why hadn’t Jane? They should have gotten her out of this place, taken her to the mansion . . . had meals and talked with her.

Shown her that her future was different, but not disappeared.

V rubbed his face as anger tackled him to the ground. Goddamn Jane . . . how could she not know that patients required more than pain meds and sponge baths? His twin had needed a fucking horizon—anyone would go mad stuck in that room.

Fucking hell.

He glanced back at his sister and the human. The pair of them had locked eyes and it was looking like it would take a crowbar to get their heads apart.

Kinda got V back to wanting to kill the bastard.

As his gloved hand went into his pocket for a hand-rolled, he had half a mind to clear his throat loudly. Either that or take his dagger and end-over-end it at the human’s head. Trouble was, that surgeon was a tool to be used until he wasn’t needed anymore—and they hadn’t reached that point yet.

V forced himself to back out of the doorway—

“How’re they doing?”

As he wheeled around, he dropped his fucking cigarette.

Butch picked it up. “Need a light?”

“Try a knife.” He took the thing back and got out his new Bic, which actually frickin’ worked. After he inhaled, he let the smoke drift from his mouth. “We going out for a drink?”

“Not yet. I think you need to go talk to your female.”

“Trust me. I don’t. Not right now.”

“She’s packing up a bag, Vishous.”

The bonded male in him went crazy, but nonetheless, he forced himself to stand there in the hall and keep smoking. Thank God for his nicotine addiction: Sucking on the hand-rolled was the only reason he wasn’t cursing.

“V, my man. What the hell is going on?”

He could barely hear the guy for the scream inside of his head. And couldn’t come close to a full explanation. “My shellan and I have had a difference of opinion.”

“So talk it out.”

“Not right now.” He put the tail end of the cig out on the sole of his shitkicker and deep-sixed the butt. “Let’s go.”

Except . . . well, when it came down to it, he somehow couldn’t walk off to the parking garage where the Escalade had been getting its oil changed. He was literally incapable of leaving, his feet having glued themselves to the floor.

As he glanced down toward the office, he mourned the fact that just an hour ago it had looked like things were back on track. But no. It was almost as if the shit before had been nothing except a warm-up for where they were now.

“I got nothing to say to her, true.” As always.

“Maybe it’ll come to you.”

Doubt that, he thought.

Butch clapped him on the shoulder. “Listen to me. You have the fashion sense of a park bench and the interpersonal skills of a meat cleaver—”

“Is this supposed to be helping?”

“Let me finish—”

“What’s next? The size of my cock?”

“Hey, even pencils can get the job done—I’ve heard the moaning from your room to prove it.” Butch gave him a shake. “I’m just telling you—you need that female in your life. Don’t fuck that shit up. Not now—not ever, feel me?”

“She was going to help Payne kill herself.” As the guy winced, V nodded. “Yeah. So this ain’t about some he-said, she-said argument about the cap on the fucking toothpaste.”

After a moment, Butch murmured, “There must have been a pretty damn good reason.”

“There is no reason. Payne’s the only blood I’ve got and she was going to take that away from me.”

With the situation boiled down to its basics like that, the buzzing at the base of V’s brain got so much stronger and louder, he had to wonder if he was going to stroke out—and in that moment, for the first time in his life, he was scared of himself and what he was capable of. Not hurting Jane, of course—no matter how fried he was, he would never touch her in anger—

Butch took a step back and raised his palms. “Hey. Easy there, roomie.”

V looked down. In his hands were both of his daggers . . . and his fists were so tight he wondered whether the grips were going to have to be surgically removed from his palms.

“Take these,” he said numbly, “away from me.”

In a rush, he gave all of his weapons to his best friend, disarming himself completely. And Butch accepted the load with quick, grim efficiency.

“Yeah . . . maybe you’re right,” the guy muttered. “Talk to her later.”

“She’s not the one you need to worry about, cop.” ’Cuz apparently suicidal impulses ran the fuck all over his family tonight.

Butch caught his arm as he went to turn away. “What can I do to help.”

V had a quick, shocking picture filter through his brain. “Nothing you could handle. Unfortunately.”

“Don’t do my thinking for me, motherfucker.”

V stepped in close, bringing their faces to within an inch of each other. “You don’t have the stomach for it. Trust me.”

Those deep hazel eyes held his and didn’t blink. “You’d be amazed what I would do to keep you alive.”

Abruptly, V’s mouth opened, his breath growing tight. And as the two of them stood chest-to-chest, he knew every inch of his body, felt all of it at once.

“What are you saying, cop.”

“Do you honestly think lessers are a better option,” Butch muttered hoarsely. “At least I can make sure you aren’t dead at the end of it.”

Images flickered through his mind, graphically detailed and appallingly perverted. And all of them with him in a starring role.

After a moment of neither saying a word, Butch stepped off. “Go see your female. I’ll be waiting for you at the Escalade.”

“Butch. You don’t mean it. You can’t.”

His best friend regarded him coolly. “The fuck I don’t.” Turning away, he strode down the corridor. “Come find me. When you’re ready.”

As V watched the guy go, he wondered whether that was about them going out to drink tonight . . . or the pair of them walking through the dangerous door the cop had just opened.

In his heart of hearts, he knew it was both.

Holy. Shit.

Back in the exam room, as Manny stared into Payne’s eyes, he was dimly aware that someone was smoking somewhere close by. Knowing his luck, it was her cocksucking brother, and the big bastard was getting nicotined up right before he came in here to mop the floor with Manny’s piehole.

Whatever, though. Payne’s mouth was mere inches from his own, and her body was warm against him, and his cock was bursting at the seams. He was a man of willpower and self-determination, but stopping what was about to happen was waaaaaaay beyond even his skill set.

Reaching up, he cupped the side of her face. As contact was made, her lips parted and he knew he should say something, but his voice had packed its bags and taken a bus out of town, evidently—along with his brain.

Closer. He drew her closer and met her halfway, their mouths fusing. And even though his body had all the patience of an unfed tiger, he was careful as the contact was made. God, she was soft . . . oh, so soft . . . in a way that made him want to spread her wide and penetrate her with everything he had, his fingers, his tongue, his sex.

But none of that was happening right now. Or tonight. Or even the day after. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with virgins, but he was pretty damn sure that even if she was having a sexual response, how it was taken care of could be overwhelming—

“More,” she said with husky demand. “More . . .”

For a split second, his heart stopped and he rethought the go-easy routine: That tone of voice was so not little-girl-lost. It was all woman, ready for a lover.

And gee whiz, under the she-didn’t-need-to-ask-twice theory, he took over, stroking her mouth with his own before sucking in her lower lip. As his hand wound around her nape, he wanted to undo that braid and get into that hair of hers . . . but that was too close to undressing her, and this was far from private.

And he was close enough to coming already, thank you very much.

He slipped his tongue into her and groaned, his arms tightening around her—before he told them to loosen up or he was going to break them both off below the shoulder. Man, she was pure octane in his blood, his body in full gear and roaring. And he’d thought those dreams were hot? The real thing made that shit feel room-temperature compared to the surface of Mercury.

More with the tongue, more getting into her and pulling out, more of everything, until he had to force himself back. His hips were grinding against her tight ass in his lap—and that hardly seemed fair, given that she couldn’t feel it.

Taking a deep breath, he didn’t last long before dropping down to her neck to suck along the column of her throat—

Her nails bit so hard into his shoulders, he knew that if he’d been naked, she’d have drawn blood—and that fucking turned him on. Shit, the idea that there could be even more than just sex, that she could lock herself on his neck, and take him into her in more than just one way—

With a sharp hiss, Manny yanked himself off her skin and let his head fall back, breath shooting up and out of his lungs. “I think we need to slow it down.”

“Why,” she said, her eyes missing nothing about him. Leaning in, she growled, “You want this.”

“Oh, fuck . . . yeah.”

Her hands went to the front of his shirt. “Then let’s keep going—”

He snapped a hold on her wrists as an orgasm tingled at the tip of his erection. “You have to stop that. Right now.”

God, he could barely breathe.

Abruptly, she pulled herself out of his grip and ducked her head. Clearing her throat, she said roughly, “Verily, I am sorry.”

The shame she had made his chest raw. “No, no . . . it’s not you.”

When she didn’t respond, he tilted her chin up, and had to wonder if she had any clue what the male body did when it was this turned on. Christ, did she even know what an erection was?

“Listen carefully,” he all but growled. “I want you. Here. Back in your room. On the floor out in the hall. Up against the wall. Any way, anywhere, anytime. Clear?”

Her eyes flared. “But then why don’t—”

“I think your brother’s out in the hall, for one thing. For another, you’ve told me you’ve never been with anyone before. I, on the other hand, know exactly where this could lead, and the last thing I want to do is freak you out by going too fast.”

Their eyes stayed locked. And then after a moment, her lips lifted into a smile so far and wide that a dimple popped out on one side and her perfect white teeth gleamed—

Jesus . . . her fangs were longer. Much longer. And oh, so very sharp.

Manny couldn’t help himself: All he could do was imagine what it would feel like to have one of them dragging up the underside of his cock.

The orgasm in his shaft made yet another bid to break free.

And that was before Payne’s pink tongue came out and did a lingering sweep over the sharp points. “You like?”

Manny’s chest pumped hard. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah . . .”

All at once, the lights went off, the room plunging into darkness. And then there were two clicks . . . locks? Could it be the locks on the doors?

In the glow of the computer screen, he saw her face change. Gone was any remnant of shy, innocent passion. . . . In its place was a raw, strapping hunger that reminded him she was not human. She was a beautiful predator, a gorgeous, powerful animal that was just human enough for him to forget who and what she really was.

Moving without thought, Manny brought one of his hands up to his white coat. In the process of his sitting down with her, the stiff lapels had popped up and now he pulled them down, exposing his neck.

He was panting. Straight-up panting.

“Take me,” he ground out. “Do it . . . I want to know what it’s like.”

Now she was the one in control, her strong hands coming up to his face and dragging down his neck to his collarbone. She didn’t have to tilt his head back. He did that without direction, his throat bared and inviting.

“Are you certain,” she said, her accent rolling those Rs.

He was breathing so hard he wasn’t sure he could choke out a reply, so he nodded. And then, worried that wasn’t enough, he put his hands over hers, pressing her hold into him.

She took over from there, focusing on his jugular, her eyes seeming to light up like stars in the night. When she closed in, she did it slowly, disappearing the inches between her fangs and his flesh with aching delay.

The brush of her lips was nothing but velvet, except the anticipation of what was to come had him hyper-focusing so everything was magnified. He knew precisely where she was—

The scrape was viciously soft as she nuzzled him.

Then her hand snaked around to his nape and clamped on, holding him in place so hard, he realized she could snap his neck if she wanted.

“Oh, God,” he moaned, giving himself over completely. “Oh—fuck!”

The strike was strong and sure, two points going in deep, the sweet pain robbing him of sight and sound until all he knew was the sucking draw at his vein.

That and the massive orgasm that rolled through his balls and pumped out the head of his cock, his hips jacking up against her as his erection kicked and jerked . . . and kept going.

He wasn’t sure how long the release lasted. Ten seconds? Ten minutes? Or was it hours? All he knew was that with every drawing pull she took from him, he came some more, the pleasure so intense he was ruined by it. . . .

Because he knew he wasn’t going to find this with anyone but her. Vampire or human.

Palming the back of her head, he pushed her down tighter, holding her to him, not caring whether she drank him dry. What a way to die—

Too soon, she went to pull away, but he was desperate for her to keep going, and tried to force her to stay at his throat. It was no contest, though. She was so strong physically, it was as if he had put up no protest at all. And didn’t that make him come again.

As overrun as his nervous system was, he still felt the retraction of her fangs from his neck and knew the exact moment she was out of him. Then the biting pain was replaced with a soft, lapping stroke, as if she were sealing him closed.

Falling into a semi-trance, Manny’s lids lowered and his head lolled on the top of his spine like a deflated balloon. From out of the corner of his eye, he looked at her perfect profile, the illumination from the monitor giving him plenty of light to watch her lick her lower lip—

Except it was not the computer.

The screen saver had come on and all that was showing was a black background with a Windows logo.

She was glowing. All over. From head to foot.

He guessed they did that, and how . . . extraordinary.

Except she was frowning. “Are you all right? Mayhap I took too much. . . .”

“I’m . . .” He swallowed. Twice. His tongue felt numb in his mouth. “I am . . .”

Panic set into her beautiful face. “Oh, fates, what have I done—”

He forced his head upright. “Payne . . . the only way it could have been better is if I’d come inside of you.”

She was momentarily relieved. And then she asked, “What is coming?”