“Is he mated?” Payne asked in a voice she hoped read as casual.
Now Jane laughed. “Not at all—although God knows there are always women around him.”
As a subtle growl pumped through the air, the good doctor blinked in surprise, and Payne quickly silenced the possessiveness she had no right to feel. “What . . . what kind of female does he favor?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Blond, leggy, and busty. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Barbie, but that was always his type.”
Payne frowned. She was neither blond nor particularly busty . . . but leggy? She could do leggy—
Why was she even thinking like this?
Closing her eyes, she found herself praying that the male never, ever met the Chosen Layla. But how ridiculous was that—
Her twin’s mate gently patted her arm. “I know you’re exhausted so I’m going to let you rest. If you need me, just hit the red button on the rail and I’ll come right to you.”
Payne forced her lids up. “Thank you, healer. And worry not about my twin. He shall return to you afore the dawn’s call of light.”
“I hope so,” Jane said. “I really do. . . . Listen, you rest and then later this afternoon, we’ll start some PT on you.”
Payne bid the female good day and closed her eyes once more.
Left by herself, she found herself understanding how the female felt about the idea of Vishous being with another. Images of her healer around the likes of the Chosen Layla made her sick to her stomach—even though there was no cause for the indigestion.
What a mess she was in. Stuck upon this hospital bed, her mind tangled in thoughts of a male she had no right to on so many levels . . .
And yet the idea of his sharing that sexual energy with anyone but her made her downright violent. To think that there were other females around her healer, seeking what he had seemed prepared to give her, wanting that straining length at his hips and the pressure of his lips against their mouths—
When she growled again, she knew it was for the best that she had let that card with his information go.
Else she would have wrought carnage upon the lovers he took.
After all, she had no problems killing.
As history had well proven.
THIRTEEN
Qhuinn entered the mansion through the vestibule. Which was a mistake.
He should have gone into the mansion through the garage, but the truth was, those coffins stacked up in the corner freaked him out. He always expected their lids to open and some kind of Night of the Living Dead to whassup the ever living crap out of him.
He so needed to get over being a pussy, however.
Courtesy of his case of the nancys, the instant he pushed his way into the foyer, he got a clear shot at Blaylock and Saxton coming down the grand staircase, the two of them all GQ’d up for Last Meal. Both wore slacks, not jeans, and sweaters, not sweatshirts, and loafers, not shitkickers. They were clean-shaven, cologned, and coiffed, but they were not she-males in the slightest.
Frankly, that would have made things a lot easier.
For fuck’s sake, he wished one of the SOBs would RuPaul their shit and go all feather boa and fingernail polish. But no. They just kept looking like two too-hot males who knew how to spend their money at Saks . . . while he, on the other hand, gutter-snaked it up in his leathers and his muscle shirts—and in the case of tonight, sported hair styled by rough sex, and cologne, if you could call it that, from the same line of slut-care products.
Then again, he was willing to bet all that separated them from the state he was in was a hot, soapy shower and a visit to the ol’ closet: Dollars to licks they’d been in a clinch all night. They were looking far too satisfied as they headed for a meal they were no doubt starved for.
As they hit the mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom, Blay’s set of blues shifted over and pulled a head-to-heel on Qhuinn. The guy’s face didn’t show any reaction. Not anymore.
That old flare of pain was nowhere in sight—and not because Qhuinn’s recreations weren’t perfectly frickin’ obvi.
Saxton said something and Blay looked away . . . and there it was. A blush on that lovely pale skin as blue eyes met gray ones.
I can’t do this, Qhuinn thought. Not tonight.