"I decide to torture you and a whole lot will come up, trust me. "
"So proceed - "
The surgeon got between them. "Okaaaay, let's relax before I need to go get my needle and thread again. You" - he nodded to Throe - "shut the fuck up - this is not a boy who needs encouragement when it comes to bloodletting. And as for the release of him?" He focused on the Brother. "My patient has a point. Look at his vitals - he's hanging by a thread. I thought the whole point of this was to make sure he lives? Bottom line, he's going to need another shot at the vein thing. Either that or a week or two of recovery time. "
The Brother's icy eyes shifted to the machines that beeped and flashed behind the bed.
As the fighter cursed under his breath, Throe smiled to himself.
The Brother left without a word.
"Thank you," Throe said to the healer.
The man frowned. "It's just my clinical opinion - believe me, I can't wait to get you the fuck off my turf. "
"Fair enough. "
Once again left alone, he waited with anticipation. And the fact that no one came in for a while told him that the Brothers were arguing about his fate.
Likely a lively discussion.
When the door was finally thrown wide, his nostrils flared, and his head whipped to the side. . . there she was.
As lovely as a dream. As heavenly as the moon. As real as it got.
Flanked by the Brothers Phury and Vishous, the Chosen smiled at him sweetly - as if she were entirely unaware that those males were prepared to tear him apart if he so much as sneezed in her direction. "Sire, I am told you require more?"
I require all of you, he thought as he nodded to her.
Approaching the bed, she went to sit down next to him, but Phury bared his fangs over her head and Vishous subtly trained that gun on his crotch.
"Here," Phury said, redirecting her to a chair with finesse. "You'll be much more comfortable in this. "
Not at all true, as now she had to reach up to him. Yet the Brother's voice was so charming and easy, it made the statement seem to have veracity.
Whilst she brought up her arm, Throe wanted to tell her she was beautiful, and that he'd missed her, and that he'd worship her if she gave him a chance. But he liked his tongue in his mouth - not sliced off and ground into the floor.
"Why ever do you look at me like that?" she said.
"You are so beautiful - "
Over her shoulder, Phury bared his fangs again, his face transforming into nothing short of total violence.
Throe did not care. He was getting another taste of ambrosia, and these two males wouldn't do anything truly horrible in front of the fair Chosen.
Who was currently blushing up a storm - and didn't that make her all the more resplendent.
As the Chosen stretched forward and put her wrist to his mouth, his arms jerked against the chains that bound him - and there was a moment of confusion for her as she heard the rattle. There was nothing to see above the blankets, however; everything was covered up beneath what kept him warm.
" 'Tis just the bedsprings," he murmured.
She smiled again and repositioned her wrist o'er his mouth.
Embracing her with his eyes, he struck as carefully as he could, not wanting to hurt her even in the smallest way - and as he drank, he stared at her face, committing it to memory so that he could hold it close in his heart.
Because this was likely the last time he would ever see her.
Indeed, so torn he was between thanking the Scribe Virgin for having this female come into his life even for a moment, and yet viewing these two chance meetings as a kind of curse.