He wanted No'One. Even though it wasn't fair -
"I shall do it. I shall take care of him. "
At the sound of No'One's voice, Tohr gritted his teeth, and felt a surge go through him. Turning his head, he looked past the rolling tables of operating instruments. . . and there she was in the far corner, her hood in place, her body still, her hands churning under the robe's sleeves.
The instant he saw her, his fangs elongated, and his body filled out its own skin, the residual numbness receding and revealing all kinds of sensation: pain at the side of his neck, his ribs, and under his arm; tingling at the tips of his canines sure as if he had already struck; hunger in his gut - for her.
Starvation in his cock - for her.
Shit.
He quickly camo'd the arousal by yanking the surgical drape around and holding it to the front of his hips.
"Okay, you shouldn't be able to sit up," Manny muttered.
Was he? Oh, hey, check it. . . And as for the doctor's second dose of surprise? Nice guy, but he was being a dumb-ass human when it came to the feeding thing. With this kind of hunger for that particular female? Tohr was frickin' Superman, capable of bench-pressing a Hummer while he juggled Smart Cars with his free hand.
He was worried about No'One, though. Last time had been such an epic fail.
Except from across the room, she just nodded at him, as if she knew exactly what he was worried about, and was ready to follow through anyway.
For some reason, her courage made his eyes sting.
"Leave us," he told the surgeon without looking at the man. "And don't let anyone in until I call for you. "
Cursing. Muttering. All of which he ignored. And as he heard the door finally shut, he took firm control of his instincts, the knowledge that he was alone with her tempering all that drive to feed: He was not going to hurt or scare her again. Period.
No'One's reedy voice cut through the silence. "You're bleeding so badly. "
Oh, man, they must not have cleaned him up yet. "It looks worse than it is. "
"Then you should be dead. "
He laughed a little. Then laughed a little more - and blamed the ha-has on blood loss. 'Cuz none of this shit was funny.
As he rubbed his face, he hit a raw patch and had to lie back - which made him wonder whether he might be in trouble - and not the sexed-up variety. How many bullets were in him? How close had he come to dying?
No offense, but what the fuck were you thinking?
Shaking all that off, he extended his hand and beckoned her. As she closed in on him, her limp was pronounced, and, when she reached the table, she leaned her hip against the edge like maybe her leg was bothering her.
"Let me get you a chair," he said, making a move to get up.
Her delicate hand eased him back. "I'll do it. "
As he watched her limp across the way, it was obvious she was in pain. "How long have you been standing?"
"Awhile. "
"You should have left. "
She rolled the stool over and groaned as she took the weight off her feet. "Not until I knew you were home safe. They said. . . that you walked into the line of fire. "
God, he wished he could see her eyes. "It's not the first time I've done something stupid. "
Like that somehow made things better? Idiot.
"I do not want you to die," she whispered.