Although V had done a little more than that. The name “Robert Bluff” had turned out to be a shell—duh. And the male had to be a half-breed; otherwise there was no way he could have worked at any hospital in the daylight hours. The question was whether and how much he knew about his vampire side—and if he was still alive.
As Jane put her head on his heart, he wrapped his arms around her even further. And then he looked over at Wrath. “Xcor, true.”
“Yup,” the king said. “Verified sighting. And this is not the last time we’re going to hear from him. It’s only the beginning.”
Too right, V thought. The arrival of that band of bastards was not good news for anyone—but most especially Wrath.
“Gentlemen,” the king called out, “and ladies, First Meal is getting cold.”
Which was the cue for everyone to head back to the dining room and actually eat what had been only studiously ignored up until now.
With Payne safe and at home, appetites were free to roam once more . . . although as God was his witness he was not going to think about what the hell that surgeon and his sister were no doubt about to get into.
As he groaned, Jane tightened her arm around his waist. “Are you all right?”
He glanced down at his shellan. “I don’t think my sister is old enough to have sex.”
“V, she’s the same age you are.”
He frowned for a moment. Was she? Or had he been born first?
Yeah, only one place to go for the answer to that.
Shit, he hadn’t even thought of his mother in all this. And now that he was . . . he had absolutely no desire or interest to pop up there and announce that Payne was doing great, fuck you very much.
Nope. If the Scribe Virgin wanted to keep tabs on what her “children” were up to? She could look into those fakakta seeing bowls she liked so much.
He kissed his shellan. “I don’t care what the calendar says or about the birth order. That’s my baby sister, and she’s never going to be old enough to . . . ‘um, yeah.’ ”
Jane laughed and retucked herself under his arm. “You are a very sweet male.”
“Nah.”
“Yeah.”
Leading her into the dining room and over to the table, he gallantly pulled her chair out for her, and then he sat to her left so that she was at his dagger hand.
As talk took root in the air, and people set to their plates, and his Jane laughed at something Rhage had said, Vishous looked across to see Butch and Marissa smiling at each other, and holding hands.
You know what, he thought . . . life was pretty fucking good right now.
It truly was.
FIFTY-SIX
Upstairs, Manny kicked the door shut behind him and his woman, and then he walked her over to a bed the size of a football field.
No reason to lock them in. Only an idiot would disturb them.
The glow from the now unshuttered windows gave him enough light to see by, and damn if he didn’t like what was before his eyes: his woman, safe and sound, laid out on . . . Well, okay, this wasn’t their bed, but he was damn well going to turn it into that before morning came.
As he sat down beside her, he discreetly tried to hide the raging hard-on he’d had ever since he’d seen her walk through that door. And though there was a lot they had to talk about, all he could do was stare at her.
Except then the physician in him came out. “You were injured?”
Her lovely hands went down to her robe, and the higher her hem came up, the lower her lids drifted. “I think you’ll find I’m healed. It was but a grazing wound way . . . up here.”
He swallowed hard. Fuck . . . yeah, she was fine. The skin of her upper thigh was as smooth as porcelain.
“Mayhap you should examine me closely, however,” she drawled.
His lips parted as his lungs got tight. “Are you sure you’re okay—and they didn’t . . . hurt you.”
He would never get over that.
Payne sat up and met him straight in the eye. “What has always been meant for you remains yours for the taking.”
He closed his eyes briefly. Then he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. “It’s not like it would matter to me if you weren’t . . . I mean, it’s not a propriety thing—” Hell’s bells, he couldn’t seem to talk tonight. “I just can’t bear for you to be hurt.”
Her smile made him grateful for the mattress under his ass. Because if he’d been standing, she’d have knocked him out.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I made a mistake—”
She put her hand to his mouth. “We are where we are now. That is all I care about.”
“And I have something I need to tell you.”
“Are you leaving me?”
“Never.”
“Good. Then let us be together first and then we shall talk.” Easing upright even farther, she replaced her fingers with her mouth, kissing him deep and long. “Mmmm . . . yes, much better than speech, I should think.”
“Are you sure you want—” That was as far as he got before her tongue robbed him of thought.
Groaning, he got up on the bed, holding himself above her. And then meeting her eyes, he slowly lowered his body on top of hers . . . with the last contact being his erection between her legs.
“No going back if I kiss you now.” Shit, his voice was so guttural, he was practically growling at her. But he meant the words. There was some other force driving him—this was not about sex, although the mechanics of the act were involved. In taking her virginity, he was marking her in a way he didn’t understand, but didn’t question.
“I want you thus,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for centuries for what only you can give to me.”
Mine, he thought.
Before he kissed her again, he turned to the side and released her hair from its braid. Spreading the dark waves out over the satin bedspread, he ran his fingers through the length.
Then he curled his hips into her core, pushing and retreating, and repeating the move . . . as his hand swept up to below her breast and gripped the fragile fabric of the robing.
Frankly, he was shocked at what he wanted to do.
“I wish to be naked before you,” she commanded. “Make it so, Manuel.”
That frickin’ robe didn’t stand a chance. Jacking up, he grabbed onto both the lapels and split it right down the front, ripping the material clean apart, baring her breasts to his hot eyes and the cool air. In response, she arched and moaned—and that was it: He was on her tightening nipples with his mouth and down to her core with his hands. He was all over her, driving her to an orgasm by sucking on her and rubbing her carefully, and when her fast, desperate release came, he swallowed her cry.
He wanted to give her more—and he had every intention of doing so—but his body wasn’t going to wait. His hands fumbled with his pants, cracking his belt and downing his zipper to spring his cock.
She was ready for him, slick and open—and aching, given the way her legs sawed against him.
“I’ll go slow,” he said against her mouth.
“I am not afraid of pain. Not with you.”
Shit, so maybe in this they worked physically as human women did. Which meant the first time was not going to be easy on his woman.
“Shhh,” she whispered. “Do not worry. Take me.”
Reaching down, he positioned himself, and—oh, fuck . . . he nearly came. She was hot and wet and—
She moved so fast, he couldn’t have stopped her if he’d wanted to. Her hands reached down and clamped on his ass, her nails digging into him and then—
Payne thrust up with her hips and at the same time pulled him down and he went in all the way to the hilt, the penetration utterly and irrevocably complete. As he cursed, she went rigid and hissed from the strike—which was just too damn unfair, because, fucking hell, she felt good. But he wasn’t moving—not until she recovered from the invasion.