“Good.” Xcor nodded. “That is rather important in this life. Carry on.”
Throe bowed. “I bid you good sleep, my leahdyre.”
Xcor watched the male depart, and as he found himself alone once again, the burning in his body annoyed him. Sexual need was such a waste of time, for it neither killed nor nourished, but on a regular basis, his cock and balls needed something other than a rough tugging session.
When darkness fell this coming night, Throe was going to have one other thing to procure for the band of bastards, and this time, Xcor was going to be forced to have his fill of it.
And they were going to need blood, as well. Preferably not human, but if they had to make do for now?
Well, they’d just have to get rid of the bodies, wouldn’t they.
THIRTY-FOUR
Back in the training center, Manny woke up on the hospital bed, not in the chair. After a momentary confusion, hazy memories brought it all back: After the butler had shown up with the food, Manny had eaten in the office, as Jane had told him to do—and that, as opposed to inside his car, was where he’d found his cell phone, wallet, keys, and briefcase. The little collection of Manellomentos had been right out in full view, just sitting on a chair, and the lack of security surprised him, given how locked-down everything else was.
Except then he’d turned his cell phone on and found that the SIM card was gone.
And he’d been willing to bet that he’d need an atomic bomb to get into or out of the garage without their permission. So his keys were immaterial.
Briefcase? Nothing but a PowerBar and some paperwork that had absolutely nothing to do with underground facilities, vampires, or Payne.
Guess all the why-bother explained the out-in-the-open.
He’d been ready to throw in the proverbial towel when it came to checking his voice mail, but then he’d taken a flyer and reached for the AT&T office phone at his elbow. Picking up the receiver, he’d hit 9 . . . and the dial tone had been a total shocker. Although, really, what were the chances that anyone would be left unattended down here? Slim to none.
Except on a day when ninety percent of them had been injured fighting, and the other ten percent were worried about their brothers.
In short order, Manny had run through three voice mail systems: home, cell, and office. The first had had two messages from his mother. Nothing specific—house repairs were needed and she’d bogeyed the dreaded ninth hole. The cell had had one from the vet that he’d had to listen to twice. And the office . . . had been just as depressing as the Glory shit: There had been seven messages from colleagues around the country and it was all so shatteringly normal. They wanted him to fly out and do consults or give papers at conferences or make spaces in his residency program
for their kids or family friends.
The sad truth was, those run-of-the-mill requests lagged behind where his life was really at, kind of like he’d hung a tight louie and faked out the poor bastards who were calling him. And he had no idea, once these vampires worked on his brain again, whether there would be anything left to count to ten with, much less use to operate on a patient or run a surgical department. There was no way of knowing what condition he was going to be in when he came out of all this—
The sound of a toilet flushing had him bolting upright.
As the bathroom door opened, he saw Payne’s silhouette spotlit from behind, her johnny disappearing into nothing more than a filmy sheet.
Sweet . . . baby . . . Jesus . . .
His morning hard-on started to pound, and didn’t that make him wish he’d slept in the damn chair. Trouble was, when he’d finally come back to her, he hadn’t had the strength to say no when she’d asked him to join her.
“You wake,” she said in a husky voice.
“And you are up.” He smiled a little. “How’re the legs feeling?”
“Weak. But they work.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I should like a shower. . . .”
Shit, with the way that trailed off, she was looking for some help—and his mind went straight to the pair of them separated by nothing but soap.
“I think there’s a bench to sit on.” He got up on the far side of the bed so that he could tuck his erection into the waistband of the scrubs.
Going over to her, he tried to give her as much room as possible as he ducked into the bath. “Yeah, right here.”
He reached in and turned on the water, then angled the bench around. “I’ll set this up—”
Glancing over his shoulder, he froze solid. Payne had loosened the ties of her hospital gown and was slowly, inexorably . . . letting the front . . . fall from her shoulders.
As the spray hit his arm and started soaking the top of his scrubs, he swallowed hard—and found himself wanting to scream when her hands caught the very top and held it to her breasts.