"Don't you fear pain?" she asked.
"No. But I'll tell you what scares the hell out of me. Losing you." He looked at her lips. "Now do you want me to pull out? Because I will."
"No. Stay." Mary kept her eyes open and brought his mouth to hers, slipping her tongue inside of him.
He trembled and started to move in a steady rhythm, penetrating and retreating, each time the thick head of him teetering on breaking their connection.
"You feel… so perfect," he said, punctuating the words with his strokes. "I was made to… be inside of you."
The luscious scent coming from his body intensified as his pumping did, until all she could feel was him, all she could smell was him, all she could taste was him.
She called out his name as she climaxed, and she felt him go over the edge with her, his body shuddering into hers, his release as powerful as his thrusts had been, his orgasm pouring into her.
When he was still, he rolled them over so they were on their sides. He gathered her close, so close she could hear the great beating heart in his chest.
She shut her eyes and slept with an exhaustion to rival death.
Chapter Twenty-nine
That evening, as the sun fell and the shutters rose up from the windows, Mary decided she could get used to being pampered by Rhage. What she couldn't handle was any more food. She put her fingers on his wrist, stopping the forkload of mashed potatoes coming at her.
"No, I'm stuffed," she said as she lay back against the pillows. "My stomach's about to burst."
With a smile, he picked up the tray of dishes and put it on the bedside table, then sat down next to her again. He'd been gone for most of the day, working, she assumed, and she'd been grateful for the sleep she'd gotten. Her exhaustion was getting worse by the day, and she could feel herself sliding into sickness. Her body felt as if it were struggling to maintain its regular processes, little aches and pains cropping up all over. And the bruises were back: Black and blue marks were blooming under her skin at an alarming rate. Rhage had been horrified when he'd seen them, convinced he'd hurt her during sex. It had taken a lot of talking to get him to realize they weren't his fault.
Mary focused on Rhage, not wanting to think about the illness, or the doctor's appointment that was coming soon. God, he didn't look any better than she felt, although he was keyed up, not grinding to a halt. The poor man couldn't settle down. As he sat beside her on the bed, he was rubbing his thighs with his palms, looking like he had a case of poison ivy or the chicken pox. She was about to ask him what was wrong when he spoke up.
"Mary, will you let me do something for you?"
Even though sex should be the last thing on her mind, she eyed the biceps that stretched his black shirt. "Do I get to pick what it is?"
A soft growl came out of him. "You shouldn't look at me like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to mount you when you do."
"Don't fight the feeling."
Like the strike of dual matches, his pupils flashed white. It was the oddest thing. One moment they were black. The next, pale light was shining out of them.
"Why does that happen?" she asked.
His shoulders thickened as he bore down on his legs and braced himself. Abruptly he stood up and paced around. She could sense an energy coming off of him, out of him.
"Rhage?"
"You don't need to worry about it."
"That hard tone in your voice tells me maybe I should." He smiled at her and shook his head. "No. You don't. About the favor. Our race has a physician, Havers. Will you let me give him access to your medical files? Maybe our science can help you."
Mary frowned. A vampire doctor. Talk about exploring your alternative therapies.
Yeah, but what exactly did she have to lose?
"Okay. Except I don't know how to get copies—"
"My brother, V, is a computer god. He can hack into anything, and most of your stuff should be online. All I need are names and places. Dates, too, if you have them."
When he grabbed paper and a pen, she told him where she had been treated as well as the names of her doctors. After he'd written it all down, he stared at the piece of paper.
"What?" she asked.
"There are so many." His eyes lifted to hers. "How bad was it, Mary?"
Her first impulse was to tell him the truth: that she'd had two rounds of chemo and a bone-marrow transplant and had just squeaked by. But then she thought about the night before, when her emotions had gotten so out of control. She was a box of dynamite right now and her disease was the best fuse around. The last thing she needed was to get tripped again, because Christ knew nothing good had come of the last two times she'd lost it. The first she'd cried all over him. The second she'd… Well, biting his lip had been the least of it.
Shrugging, lying, hating herself, she murmured, "It was okay. I was just glad when it was over."
His eyes narrowed.
Just as someone pounded on the door.
Rhage's stare didn't waver, in spite of the urgent sound. "Someday you're going to learn to trust me."
"I do trust you."
"Bullshit. And here's a quick tip. I hate being lied to."
The heavy knocking started up again.
Rhage went over and opened the door, ready to tell whoever it was to screw off. He had a feeling he and Mary were about to get into an argument, and he wanted to get the thing over with.
Tohr was on the other side. Looking like he'd been hit with a stun gun.
"What the hell happened to you?" Rhage asked while stepping into the hall. He shut the door partway.
Tohr sniffed the air drifting out of the bedroom. "Jesus. You've marked her, haven't you?" "You got a problem with that?"
"No, it makes this all easier in a way. The Scribe Virgin has spoken."
'Tell me."
"You should be with the rest of the brothers to hear—"
"Fuck that. I want to know now, Tohr."
When the brother finished speaking in the Old Language, Rhage took a deep breath. "Give me ten minutes."
Tohr nodded. "We're in Wrath's study."
Rhage went back into his room and shut the door. "Listen, Mary, I've got some business with my brothers. I might not be back tonight."
She stiffened and her eyes dropped away from his face.
"Mary, it's not females, I swear to you. Just promise me you'll be here when I get back." As she hesitated, he went over and stroked her cheek. "You said you don't have a doctor's appointment until Wednesday. What's another night? You could spend more time in the tub. You told me how much you like that."
She smiled a little. "You are a manipulator."
"I like to think of myself more as an outcome engineer."
"If I stay one more day, you're just going to try to talk me into another and another…"
He bent down and kissed her hard, wishing he had more time, wanting to be with her, inside of her, before he left. But hell, even if he'd had hours to spare, he wouldn't be able to do that. The tingling and the hum in him was about to vibrate his body into midair.
"I love you," he said. Then he pulled back, took off his watch, and put the Rolex in her hand. "Keep this for me."
He went over to the closet and shed his clothes. Way in the back, behind another two pairs of pajamas he was never going to use, he found his ceremonial black robe. He drew the heavy silk on over his naked skin and belted it with a thick strip of braided leather.
When he came out, Mary said, "You look like you're going to a monastery."
'Tell me you will be here when I come back."
After a moment, she nodded.
He pulled the robe's hood into place. "Good. That's good." "Rhage, what's going on?"
"Just wait for me. Please, wait for me." As he got to the door, he took one last look at her in his bed.
This was their first good-bye that had teeth, their first separation where, when they were reunited, he'd feel the awful distance of time and experience. He knew tonight was going to be hard to get through. He just hoped that when he came out on the other side, the aftermath of the punishment didn't linger too long. And that she was still with him.
"I'll see you later, Mary," he said as he shut her in his room.
When he walked into Wrath's study, he closed the double doors behind himself. All the brothers were there, and no one was talking. The scent of unease permeated the room, smelling like rubbing alcohol.
Wrath came forward from behind the desk, looking as rigid as Tohr had. From behind his wraparound sunglasses, the king's stare was piercing, something felt, though not seen.
"Brother."
Rhage bowed his head. "My lord."
"You wear that robe as if you want to stay with us."
"Of course I do."
Wrath nodded once. "Here is the pronouncement, then. The Scribe Virgin has determined that you offended the Brotherhood in both defying Tohr's orders and by bringing a human onto our turf. I'll be honest with you, Rhage, she wants to override my decision about Mary. She wants the human out."
"You know where that leads."
"I told her you were prepared to walk."
"That probably cheered her up." Rhage smirked. "She's been trying to get rid of me for years."
"Well, it's your choice now, brother. If you want to remain with us, and if the human is to continue to be sheltered within these walls, the Scribe Virgin has demanded that you offer a
rythe
."
The ritualistic way of assuaging offense was a logical punishment. When a
rythe
was tendered and accepted, the offender allowed the object of his insult free use of a weapon against him without putting up a defense. The offended could choose anything from a knife to a set of brass knuckles to a gun, provided the wound inflicted was not mortal.
"I so offer the
rythe
," Rhage said.
"It must be one to each of us."
There was a collective groan in the room. Someone muttered, "
Fuck
."
"I so offer them." "Be it as you wish, brother."
"But"—Rhage hardened his voice—"I offer them only on the understanding that if the ritual is observed, Mary stays for however long I want."
"That was my agreement with the Scribe Virgin. And you should know she came around only after I told her you wanted to take the human as your
shellan
. I think Her Holiness was shocked you could even consider that kind of commitment." Wrath looked over his shoulder. "Tohrment is to choose the weapon that all of us will use."
"The tri-whip," Tohr said in a low voice.
Oh, shit
. This was going to hurt.
There were more mutters.
"So be it," Wrath said.
"Except what about the beast?" Rhage asked. "It can come out when I'm in pain."
"The Scribe Virgin will be there. She said she has a way of keeping it at bay."