And his stomach was still off. The very idea of food made him nauseous.
But he'd had it with being stuck in his room. Twelve hours flat on his back was enough wasted time. He was going to go to the training center's gym, get on a recumbent bike, loosen himself up a little.
Rhage stopped, tensing. He couldn't see much, but he knew for sure he was not alone in the hall.
He wheeled around and pulled the figure out of a doorway, grabbing it by the throat, forcing the body into the wall. Too late, he realized it was a female and the high-pitched gasp shamed him. He immediately eased up on his grip, but he didn't let her go.
Good lord, she is a human.
What was a human doing in the brotherhood's private compound?
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"
There was no answer, just quick breathing. She was utterly terrified of him, the smell of her fear like woodsmoke in his nose.
He softened his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you don't belong here and I want to know your name."
The skin under his palm was warm, soft. The throat was slender, the blood racing through the veins running up from her heart. Her hair was a dark, rich brown, falling over her shoulders.
"My name is Mary. I'm here with a friend."
Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed.
"Say that again," he whispered.
"Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's..."
Rhage shivered, a balmy rush breaking out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm in her speech, the sound of her words spread through him, calmed him, comforted him.
Chained him sweetly.
He closed his eyes. "Say something else."
"What?" she asked, obviously confused.
"Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice again."
She was silent, and he was about to beg her to speak, when she said, "You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?"
He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter so much, it was her tone. Low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if he were being stroked on the inside of his skin.
"More," he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better.
"Could you... could you please let go of me?"
"No." He put his other hand up on her collarbone so she couldn't get away from him. "Talk."
She started to struggle. "You're crowding me."
"I know. Talk."
"Oh, for God's sake, what do you want me to say?"
Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful.
"Anything."
"Fine. Get your hand off my throat and let me go or I'm going to knee you where it counts."
He laughed.
Then put his lower body against her, trapping her with his thighs and hips. She stiffened against him, but he got an ample feel of her. She was built lean, but he had no doubt she was a female. Her br**sts hit his chest, her hips cushioned his, her stomach was soft.
"Keep talking," he said in her ear. God, she smelled good. Clean. Fresh. Like lemon.
She pushed against him and he leaned his full weight into her. Her breath came out in a rush.
"Please," he murmured.
"Since you won't let me go, I have nothing to say."
He smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed. There was no sense showing off his fangs. "So say that."
"What?"
"Nothing. Say nothing. Over and over and over again. Do it."
She bristled, the scent of fear replaced by a sharp spice, like fresh, pungent mint from a garden. She was annoyed now.
"Fine. Nothing. Nothing." Suddenly, she laughed and the sound shot right through to his spine, burning him. "Nothing, nothing. No-thing. No-thing. Noooooothing. There, is that good enough for you? Will you let me go now?"
"No."
She fought against him some more, creating a delicious friction between their bodies.
And he knew the moment when her anxiety and irritation turned to something hot. He smelled her arousal, a lovely sweetening in the air. His body answered her call, his hips moving in a circle, rubbing against her.
He was hard as a diamond.
Her hands flattened on his waist and slowly slid around to his back, as if she were unsure why she was responding to him the way she was. He arched against her and felt her palms move up his spine.
Rhage growled low in his throat and dropped his head down so his ear was next to her mouth. He wanted to give her another word to say, something like luscious or whisper or strawberry.
Hell, antidisestablishmentarianism would do it.
The effect she had on him was druglike, a tantalizing combination of sexual need and profound ease. Like he was having an orgasm and falling into a peaceful sleep at the same time. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.
A chill shot through him, sucking out the warmth in his body.
He snapped his head back as he thought about the warning Vishous had given him.
"Are you a virgin?" Rhage demanded.
"I beg your pardon. What kind of question is that?" She shoved hard against his body.
Anxiety tightened his hand on her collarbone. "Have you ever been taken by a male? Answer the question."
Her lovely voice turned high, frightened. "Yes. Yes, I've had... a lover."
Disappointment loosened his grip. But relief was right on its heels.
All things considered, he wasn't sure he needed to meet his destiny this ten minutes.
Besides, even if she wasn't his fate, this human female was extraordinary... something special.
Something he had to have for himself.