"Healer ..." she gasped as he started soaping her skin.
Her upper body grew slick and hot as his palms went all over her, from her neck to the tops of her hip bones. And then he started in on her legs, working her delicate feet and ankles and moving ever upward, over her calves and the backs of her knees.
Water was all around them, falling between them, washing her off as soon as he sudsed her up, and the sound of it falling on the tile was drowned out only by her moans.
Shit was only going to get louder, too.
Sucking on her neck, he spread her knees wider and wider, pushing himself between them. "I told you" - he bit her a little - " you would like bathtime."
In response, her hands speared into his shoulders, her nails digging in and making him wonder if it wasn't time to start thinking about baseball stats, zip codes ... car prices.
Eleanor Roosevelt.
"You were correct, healer," she said, panting. "I love it - but you are too well clothed."
Manny closed his eyes as he shuddered. And then he got enough control over himself so he could speak. "Nah ... I'm good the way I am. You just lean back and let me take care of this."
Before she could respond, he sealed his mouth on hers and pushed her against the wall with his chest. To get her to stay away from the subject of his getting naked, he slid both hands up the insides of her thighs and ran his fingertips across her sex.
As he felt how wet she was - and it was the kind of wet that had nothing to do with water and everything to do with what he wanted all over his tongue - he pulled back a little and looked down.
Fucking ... hell ... she was so ready for him. And, man, what she looked like, all bent back, the water making her br**sts glisten, her lips parted and a little bruised from him kissing her, her legs spread apart.
"Will you take me now?" she moaned, her eyes flashing, her fangs elongating.
"Yes ..."
He gripped her knees and went down, putting his mouth where his eyes had locked. As she cried out, he went for it hard and fast, engulfing her sex, driving her hard, making no excuses for how much he wanted her. When she blew apart, his tongue went into her and he felt it all, the pulses, the way she jerked against his chin and nose, the hard grip of her hands on his head.
No reason to stop there.
With her, he had endless stamina, and he knew, as long as his scrubs stayed on him, he could keep going like this with her ... forever.
Vishous woke up in a bed that was not his own, but it didn't take him more than a nanosecond to know where he was: the clinic. In one of the recovery rooms.
After giving his eyes a good rub, he glanced around. The light was on in the bathroom and its door was cracked, so there was plenty to see by ... and the first thing that stood out was the duffel bag across the way on the floor.
It was one of his. Specifically, the one he'd given Jane.
She wasn't here, however. Not in this room, at least.
As he sat up, he felt as if he'd been in a car accident, aches and pains blooming all over his body like he was an antenna and every single radio signal in the world was channeling into his nervous system. With a groan, he shifted around so that his legs dangled off the bed - and then he had to take a little breather.
Couple of minutes later, it was a case of push and pray: He shoved his weight off the mattress and hoped -
Bingo. Legs held.
The side that had been worked on by Manello was not exactly ready to run a marathon, but as V ripped off the bandages and did some flexing, he had to be impressed. The scars from the knee surgery were almost completely healed already, nothing except a pale pink line left behind. But more importantly, what was underneath was straight-up magic: The joint felt fantastic. Even with the stiffness that remained, he could tell it was functioning perfectly.
Hip felt good as new, too.
Goddamn human surgeon was a miracle worker.
On his way to the loo, his eyes passed over that duffel bag. Memories from his morphine trip filtered back and were far clearer than the actual experience had been. God, Jane was a spectacular doctor. In the night-to-night running of life, he hadn't so much forgotten that as not experienced it in a while. She always went the extra mile with her patients. Always. And she didn't treat his brothers so well because they were tied to him. It had nothing to do with his ass - those people were hers in those moments. She would have treated civilians, members of the glymera ... even humans in exactly the same way.
Inside the bathroom, he got into the shower, and man, it was crowded in the stall. As he thought about Jane and his sister, he had a terrible feeling he'd oversimplified what he'd walked in on the night before yesterday. He hadn't stopped to consider that there was some other relationship at work between the two females. It had been all about him and his sister ... nothing about the doctor/patient bond.
Scratch that. It had been all about him; nothing about Payne and what she wanted out of her life. Or what Jane had done or not done for her patient.
Standing with his head down and the water hitting the back of his neck, he stared at the drain between his feet.
He wasn't good with apologies. Or talking.
But he was not a pu**y, either.
Ten minutes later, he threw on a hospital johnny and limped out into the corridor for the office. If his Jane was down here, he figured she'd be asleep at the desk, given how many of the recovery beds were no doubt filled with Brothers she'd treated.
He still had no clue what to say to her about The Leathers, but he could at least give it a shot about Payne.
Except the office was empty.
Sitting down at the computer, it took him less than fifteen seconds to find his shellan. When he'd hardwired the security system for the mansion, the Pit, and this facility, he'd put cameras in every single room there was - except for the First Family's suite. Naturally, the equipment could be disconnected easily with an unplug, and what do you know, the bedrooms of his brothers all showed black on the computer screen.
Which was a good thing. He didn't need to see all that banging.
The blue toile guest room up at the big house, however, was still being monitored, and in the light of the bedside lamp that had been left on, he saw the curled figure of his mate. Jane was dead to the world, but it was damn clear she wasn't resting comfortably: Her brows were clenched as if her brain were desperately trying to hold on to the sleep she was getting. Or maybe she was dreaming of things that prickled instead of pleasured her.
His first instinct was to march right over there, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the kindest thing he could do was leave her where she lay and let her rest. She and Manello had gone for hours straight, all morning long. Besides, he was staying in tonight: Wrath had taken everyone off rotation in light of all the injuries.
Christ ... that Lessening Society. He hadn't seen so many slayers in years - and he wasn't thinking about just the dozen that had shown up last night. Over the previous two weeks, he was willing to bet the Omega had turned a hundred of those f**kers - and he had a feeling they were like cockroaches. For every one you saw, there were another ten that you didn't.
Good thing the Brothers were lethal as f**k. And Butch healed relatively easily after doing his Dhestroyer business - hell, Vishous had even been able to take care of the cop after the operation. Not that he remembered much about doing it, but still.
Stifled by so much, he patted his pockets for his rolling paper and tobacco ... and realized he was wearing a johnny: no merch for a smoke.
Out of the chair. Back in the hall. Heading down to where he'd crashed.
The door to Payne's room was closed, and he didn't hesitate before he opened the way in. Chances were good that the human surgeon was in there with her, but there was no way the guy wasn't out like a light. He'd worked his ass off.
As Vishous stepped inside, the scent in the air probably should have registered more clearly. And he maybe should have paid a little more attention to the fact that the shower was running. But he was just so shocked to see the bed was empty ... and that there were braces and crutches over in the corner.
Patient was paralyzed? You needed a wheelchair, not equipment that aided mobility. So ... was she walking?
"Payne?"
He raised his voice. "Payne?"
The response he got back was a moan. A very deep, satisfied moan ...
Which was not the kind of thing evoked even by the best shower anyone ever had.
V shot across and nearly broke the door down as he burst into the hot, humid bathroom. And holy shit, the scene before him was so much worse than he'd thought.