He frowned. "I will not take food meant for you."
"I'm not going to eat it. Being kidnapped has killed my appetite."
V cursed under his breath, hating the position he'd put her in. "I'm sorry."
"Instead of doing the 'sorry' thing, how about you just let me go?"
"Not yet." Not ever, some crazy-ass voice muttered.
Oh, Christ, not more with 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 too smart not to. Hell, you've already alluded to it."
"Vampires do not exist."
His temper flared even though she didn't deserve it. "We don't? Then explain why you're in my wonder-fucking-land."
Without taking a breath she shot back, "Tell me something-do civil rights mean anything to your kind?"
"Survival means more," he snapped. "But then, we've been hunted for generations."
"And the ends justify any means for you. How noble." Her voice was as sharp as his. "Do you always use this rationale to snatch humans?"
"No, I don't like them."
"Oh, except you need me, so you'll use me. Aren't I the lucky exception."
Well, shit. This was a turn-on. The more she met his aggression head-on, the harder his body got. Even in his weakened state, his arousal was a demanding throb between his thighs, and in his mind he was picturing her bent over the bed with nothing but that white coat on… and him driving into her from behind.
Maybe he should be grateful she was repulsed. Like he needed to get tangled with a female-
All at once the night of his shooting tunneled into his brain with total clarity. He remembered his mother's happy little visit and her fabulous birthday present: the Primale. He'd been tapped to be the Primale.
V grimaced and clapped his hands over his face. "Oh… fuck."
In a grudging tone, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"My goddamn destiny."
"Oh, really? I'm locked up in this room. At least you're free to go where you choose."
"The hell I am."
She made a dismissive noise, and then neither of them said another word until Butch brought another tray in about a half hour later. The cop had the presence of mind not to say much and move quickly-and also the foresight to keep the door locked the whole time as he made the delivery. Which was smart.
V's surgeon was planning on making a run for it. She tracked the cop like she was measuring a target and kept her right hand in the pocket of her coat.
She had some kind of weapon in there. Goddamn it.
V watched Jane closely as Butch put the tray on the bedside table, praying like hell she didn't do anything stupid. When he saw her body tense and her weight shift forward, he sat up, prepared to lunge because he didn't want anyone but himself handling her. Ever.
Nothing came of it, though. She caught his change in position from the corner of her eye, and the distraction was enough to get Butch out of the room and the door relocked.
V settled back against the pillows and measured the hard line of her chin. "Take off your coat."