Lover Unleashed (13 page)

“Four. Hours.”

“So there was a previous injury?”

“No.”

“I need to talk to you. Privately.” As he drew her over to the corner of the room, he said to the anesthesiologist, “Hold up, Max.”

“No problem, Dr. Manello.”

Angling Jane into a tight huddle, Manny hissed, “What the fuck is going on here?”

“The MRI is self-explanatory.”

“That is not human. Is it.”

She just stared at him, her eyes fixed on his and unwavering.

“What the hell did you get pulled into, Jane?” he demanded under his breath. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

“Listen to me carefully, Manny, and believe every word I say. You are going to save her life and, by extension, save mine. That’s my husband’s sister, and if he . . .” Her voice hitched. “If he loses her before he gets a chance to even know her, it’s going to kill him. Please—stop asking questions I can’t answer and do what you do best. I know this isn’t fair and I would do anything to change that—except lose her.”

Abruptly, he thought of the screaming headaches that he’d gotten over the past year—every time he’d thought about the days leading up to her car accident. That damn stinging pain had come back the instant he’d seen her . . . only to lift and reveal the layers of recollection he had sensed but been unable to call forward.

“You’re going to make it so that I don’t remember anything,” he said. “And neither will any of them. Aren’t you.” He shook his head, well aware that this was far, far bigger than just some U.S. government special-agent spy shit. Another species? Coexisting with humans?

But she wasn’t going to come clean with him on that, was she.

“Goddamn you, Jane. Seriously.”

As he went to turn away, she caught his arm. “I owe you. You do this for me, I owe you.”

“Fine. Then don’t
ever
come for me again.”

He left her in the corner and went over to his patient, who had been oriented on her stomach.

Bending down beside her, he said, “It’s . . .” For some reason, he wanted to use his first name with her, but given the other staff, he kept it professional. “It’s Dr. Manello. We’re going to start now, okay? You’re not going to feel a thing, I promise you.”

After a moment, she said weakly, “Thank you, healer.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice. God, the effect on him of just three words from her mouth was epic. But what exactly was he attracted to? What was she?

An image of her brother’s fangs filtered through his mind—and he had to lock it out. There would be time to Vincent Price it after this.

With a soft curse, he stroked her shoulder and nodded at the anesthesiologist.

Showtime.

Her back had been Betadined by the nurses, and he palpated her spine with his fingers, feeling his way along as the drugs went to work and put her out.

“No allergies?” he said to Jane, even though he’d already asked.

“None.”

“Any special issues we need to be aware of when she’s under?”

“No.”

“All right then.” He reached over and swung the microscope closer into position, but not directly over her.

He had to cut into her first.

“Do you want music?” the nurse asked.

“No. No distractions on this case.” He was operating like his life depended on it, and not just because this woman’s brother had threatened him.

Even though it made no sense, losing her . . . whatever she was . . . would be a tragedy the likes of which he couldn’t put into words.

TEN

T
he first thing Payne saw when she came awake was a pair of male hands. She was evidently sitting upright and in in some kind of sling mechanism that supported her head and neck. And the hands in question were on the edge of the bed beside her. Beautiful and capable, with their nails trimmed down tight to the quick, they were on papers, quietly flipping through many pages.

The human male they belonged to was frowning as he read and used a scribing utensil to make occasional notations. His beard growth was heavier than when she’d seen it last, and that was how she guessed that hours had passed.

Her healer looked as exhausted as she felt.

As her consciousness surged forth e’er further, she became aware of a subtle beeping next to her head . . . and of a dull pain in her back. She had a feeling that they had given her potions to numb sensation, but she didn’t want that. Better to be alert—as it was, she felt encased in cotton-wool batting and that was strangely terrifying.

Unable to speak as yet, she looked around. She and the human male were alone, and this was not the room she had been held within previously. Outside, various voices in that odd human accent vied for prominence against a constant stream of footsteps.

Where was Jane? The Brotherhood—

“Help . . . me. . . .”

Her healer snapped to attention and then tossed his pages onto a rolling table. Surging to his feet, he leaned down to her, his scent a glorious tingle in her nose.

“Hey,” he said.

“I feel . . . nothing. . . .”

He took her hand, and when she could sense neither warmth nor touch, she became downright o’erwrought. But he was there for her: “Shh . . . no, no, you’re okay. It’s just the pain medications. You’re okay and I’m here. Shh . . .”

His voice soothed her as surely as a stroking palm would have.

“Tell me,” she demanded, her voice reedy. “What . . . transpired?”

“Things went satisfactorily in the OR,” he said slowly. “I reset the vertebrae, and the spinal cord wasn’t completely compromised.”

Payne hitched her shoulders up and tried to resettle her heavy, aching head, but the contraption about her kept her right where she was. “Your tone . . . speaks more than your words.”

She got no immediate reply to that. He just kept soothing her with his hands that she could not feel. His eyes conversed with her own, however—and the news was not good.

“Tell. Me,” she bit out. “I deserve naught else.”

“It was not a failure, but I don’t know where you’ll end up. Time is going to tell us more than anything else.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, but the darkness terrified her. Throwing her lids open, she clung to the sight of her healer . . . and hated the self-blame in his handsome, grim face.

“’Tis not your fault,” she said roughly. “It is what is meant to be.”

Of that, at least, she was sure. He had tried to save her and done his level best—the frustration at himself was so very clear.

“What is your name?” he said. “I don’t know your name.”

“Payne. I am Payne.”

When he frowned again, she was fairly sure that the nomenclature did not please him, and she found herself wishing she had been birthed to other syllables. But there was another reason for his displeasure, wasn’t there. He had seen her from the inside and had to know she was different from him.

He had to know she was an “other.”

“What you suppose to be true,” she murmured, “is not wrong.” Her healer drew in a vast breath and seemed to hold it for a day. “What goeth on in your mind? Speak to me.”

He smiled a bit, and ah, how lovely that was. So lovely. ’Twas a shame it was not from humor, however.

“Right now . . .” He drew a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I’m wondering whether I should just let it all go and play dumb like I don’t know what’s going. Or get real.”

“Real,” she said. “I do not have the luxury of even a moment of falsity.”

“Fair enough.” His eyes locked on her. “I think that you—”

The door to the room opened a bit and a fully draped figure peered inside. Going by the delicate, pleasing scent, it was Jane, hidden beneath blue robing and a mask.

“It’s almost time,” she said.

Payne’s healer’s face became positively volcanic. “I do not agree with this.”

Jane came inside and shut them all in. “Payne, you’re awake.”

“Indeed.” She tried to smile and hoped that her lips moved. “I am.”

Her healer put his body betwixt them, as if he sought to protect her. “You can’t move her. It’s about a week too soon for that.”

Payne glanced over at the curtains that hung from the ceiling to the floor. She was nearly certain there were glass windows on the other side of the pale bolts of fabric, and very sure that if that were the case, every one of the sun’s rays would pierce through when dawn came.

Now her heart pounded and she did feel it behind her ribs. “I must go. How long?”

Jane checked a timepiece on her wrist. “About an hour. And Wrath is on his way here. Which will help.”

Perhaps that was why she felt so weak. She needed to feed.

As her healer seemed on the verge of speech, she cut him off to address her twin’s
shellan
. “I shall handle this here. Please leave us.”

Jane nodded and backed out the door. But no doubt stayed close by.

Payne’s human rubbed his eyes as if he were hoping that doing so would change his perception . . . or perhaps this reality they were stuck in.

“What name would you want me to have?” she asked quietly.

He dropped his hands and considered her for a moment. “Screw the name thing. Can you just be honest with me?”

Verily, she doubted that was a promise she could give him. Although the technique of burying memories was easy enough, she was not overly familiar with the repercussions of doing it, and her concern was that the more he knew, the more there was to hide and the more damage that could be rendered upon him.

“What do you wish to know.”

“What are you.”

Her eyes returned to the closed curtains. As sheltered as she had been, she was aware of the myths that the human race had constructed around her species. Undead. Killers of the innocent. Soulless and without morals.

Hardly something to crow about. Or waste their last few precious moments on.

“I cannot be exposed to sunlight.” Her gaze shifted back to him. “I heal far, far faster than you. And I need to feed before I am moved—after I do, I shall be stable enough to travel.”

As he looked down at his hands, she wondered if he was wishing that he hadn’t operated on her.

And the silence that stretched out between them became as treacherous as a battlefield, and just as dangerous to cross. Yet she heard herself say, “There is a name for what I am.”

“Yeah. And I don’t want to say it out loud.”

A curious ache began in her chest, and with supreme effort, she dragged her forearm upward until her palm rested over the pain. Odd that her whole body was numb, but this she could feel. . . .

Abruptly, the sight of him became wavy.

Immediately, his expression gentled and he reached forward to brush her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“Am I?”

He nodded and lifted his forefinger so she could see it. On the pad, a single crystal drop glistened. “Do you hurt?”

“Yes.” Blinking quickly, she sought and failed to have him come into focus. “These tears are rather irritating.”

The sound of his laughter and the sight of his white, even teeth lifted her, even as she stayed upon the bed. “Not one for crying, are you, then,” he murmured.

“Never.”

He leaned to the side and brought forth a square tissue that he used to blot what ran down her face. “Why the tears.”

It took her a while to say it. And then she had to: “Vampire.”

He eased back down into the chair beside her and took elaborate care folding up the square and then tossing it into a squat bin.

“I guess that’s why Jane disappeared a year ago, huh,” he said.

“You do not appear shocked.”

“I knew there was something big doing.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen your MRI. I’ve been inside of you.”

For some reason, that phraseology heated her up. “Yes. You have.”

“You’re just similar enough, though. Your spine was not so different that I didn’t know what I was doing. We were lucky.”

For truth, she did not share that opinion: After years of caring naught for males, she felt a mystical pull toward this one, and it was the sort of thing she would have liked to explore had they not been where they were.

But as she had learned long ago, fate was rarely concerned with what she wanted.

“So,” he pronounced, “you’re going to handle me, right? You’re going to make this whole thing go away.” He waved his arm in a vague manner. “I won’t recall this at all. Just like when your brother came through here a year ago.”

“You shall perhaps have dreams. Nothing more.”

“Is that how your kind have stayed hidden.”

“Yes.”

He nodded and glanced around. “You going to do it now?”

She wanted more time with him, but there was no reason for him to see her feed from Wrath. “Soon enough.”

He glanced back at the door and then looked her straight in the eye. “Will you do me a favor.”

“But of course. It would be a pleasure to serve you.”

One of his brows flicked and she could have sworn his body threw off more of that delicious scent of his. But then he became utterly grave. “Tell Jane . . . I get it. I understand why she did what she did.”

“She is in love with my brother.”

“Yeah, I saw it. Back . . . wherever we were. Tell her it’s cool. Between her and me. After all, you can’t help who you fall for.”

Yes, Payne thought. Yes, that was so very true.

“You’ve been in love?” he asked.

As humans did not read minds, she realized she’d spoken out loud. “Ah . . . no. I . . . no. I have not.”

Although even this short time with her healer was informing. He fascinated her, from the way he moved to how he filled out his white coat and blue dressings, to the scent of him and his voice.

“Are you mated?” she asked, fearing his answer.

He laughed in a hard burst. “Hell, no.”

Her breath left her on a relieved sigh, even as it was strange to think that his status mattered as much as it did. And then there was nothing but silence.

Oh, the passing of time. How regrettable it was. And what should she say to him in these final minutes they had left? “Thank you. For caring for me.”

“My pleasure. I hope you recover well.” He stared at her as if trying to memorize her, and she wanted to tell him to stop trying. “I’m always here for you, okay? If you need me to help you . . . come and find me.” Her healer took out a small, stiff card and wrote something on it. “That’s my cell. Call me.”