"Sorry, my man, but you only get one feeding. That's what I've been told."
As Throe lay in the bed he'd been strapped to, he was not surprised at the human doctor's response to his inquiry. Strength in a prisoner did not work in the Brotherhood's favor. The problem was, he wasn't recovering very well, and more blood would help.
Of course... if he were to feed, would it not be just a lovely coincidence that he'd get to see that Chosen once more before he left.
She was close by. He could sense her....
"In fact, I believe plans are being made for your imminent departure. Night's falling soon enough."
Mayhap if he simply refused to move?
No, that would likely not slow the Brotherhood down. They would just handle him like any other variety of refuse.
The human surgeon left thereafter - how ever were they using a human, by the way? - and then he was alone again.
When the door reopened, he didn't bother cracking his lids. It wasn't the Chosen -
The click of metal on metal close to his ear got his attention. Popping his eyes wide, he stared into the barrel of a .357 Magnum.
Vishous's gloved finger was attached to the trigger. "Wakie, wakie."
"If you turn me out now," he said weakly, "I'm not going to make it."
In this, he told the truth. Having lived off the weak sustenance of human females for as long as he had, he was not in a position to heal himself of wounds this serious so quickly.
Vishous shrugged. "Then we'll deliver you to Xcor in a pine box."
"Best of luck with that, mate. I shall not tell you where to find him." Although not because of Xcor. He didn't want his fellow soldiers - or more properly, his former comrades - to be attacked unaware. "You can torture me if you wish. But nothing shall escape my lips."
"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.
She was going to stay with him, he feared. Haunting him as sure as any ghost...
Too soon it was over, and he was retracting his canines from her fragrant flesh. He licked once, twice, stroking at her with his tongue -
"Okay, that's enough." Phury gathered her up from the chair, smiling at her with true warmth. "You go find Qhuinn now - you're going to need some strength."
This was true, Throe thought with a stab of guilt. Indeed, she looked pale and seemed slightly woozy. Then again, she had fed him twice in as many hours.
He wished his name was Qhuinn.
Phury escorted her to the door and sent her off with kind words in the Old Language. And then he turned back... and made sure that the lock was in place.
The fist came flying at him from the side, and given his brief impression of black leather, it was clearly the Brother Vishous's.
And the resulting crack was so loud it was as if a log had been snapped in half.
Then again, he'd always had a sturdy jaw.
As cathedral bells rang in Throe's head and he spit out blood, Vishous said grimly, "That is for looking at her like you were fucking her in your mind."
Across the room, the Brother Phury likewise curled up a fist and started smacking it into the open palm of his free hand. As he approached, he said in a nasty tone, "And this is to make sure you don't follow up on that bright idea."
Throe smiled at them both. The more they beat him... the more likely he would have to feed again.
They were right, too: He did want to be with her - although "making love" was a far better term.
And those moments with her were so worth whatever they gave him....
Up at the mansion, Tohr sat on the bottom step of the grand stairwell, his elbows on his bent knees, his chin on a fist, his cell phone faceup next to him.
His ass was numb.
In fact, after having sat where he had for the last - how long? five hours? - he was probably going to have to get Doc Jane to surgically remove the carpet fibers from his caboose -
The security check-in station let out a beep, and he burst up, striding over to the panel, double-checking the screen, releasing the door lock.
Lassiter came in alone, likely because Doc Jane had returned to the Pit. And the angel was naked as a jaybird... and just frickin' fine. No bullet holes, no scars, no contusions.
"You keep looking at me like that and you'd better buy me dinner afterward."
Tohr glared at the angel. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Lassiter shook his finger. "You, of all people, do not need to ask me that. Not about last night."
On that note - and utterly unconcerned about the nakey - Lassiter sauntered into the billiards room and headed for the bar. The good news was that at least when he was behind the thing pouring liquor, his longshoreman and those two buoys were not in full view.
"Scotch? Gin? Bourbon?" the angel asked. "I'm having an Orgasm."
Tohr rubbed his face. "Can you never say that word around me when you're buck-ass nekkid?"
That set off a round of, "Orgaaaaasmmm, orgaaaaasmmm, orgaaaasmmm," to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth. Fortunately, the fruity bullshit the fucker put into his glass cut the chorus off as he swallowed it on a oner.
"Ahhhhh..." The angel smiled. "Think I'll have another. Care for one? Or did you have enough this afternoon."
A quick mental picture of No'One's breast in his hand made his cock hop all over that plan. "Lassiter, I know what you did."
"Outside? Yeah, the sun and I get along. Best doctor there is - and no copay. Woo-hoo."
More with the drinking. Which suggested that bravado might just be a little forced.
Tohr parked it on one of the stools. "Why the hell did you put yourself in front of me?"
The angel went about making himself number three. "I'll tell you the same thing I did Doc Jane - I got no clue what you're talking about."
"Those were bullet wounds all over you."
"Were they?"
"Yeah."
"Can you prove it?" Lassiter did a little turn with his arms up. "Can you prove I was even hurt?"
"Why deny it?"
"This isn't a denial if I have no fucking clue what you're going on about."
With another charmer of a smile, he bottomed up again. And then immediately started making number four.
Tohr shook his head. "If you're going to get plastered, why can't you do it like a real man."
"I like the taste of fruit."
"You are what you drink."
The angel glanced up at the clock. "Shit. I missed Maury. But I DVR'd Ellen."
Lassiter went over and stretched out on the leather couch - and Tohr counted himself lucky that the bastard at least had the decency to wrap a throw blanket around his naughty bits. As the television came on, and Ellen DeGeneres danced down a row of housewives, it was obvious that conversation was not on the angel's to-do list.
"I just don't get why you did it," Tohr muttered.
It was so unlike the guy, always out for himself.
At that moment, No'One appeared in the arches of the room. She was in her robe with the hood in place, but Tohr saw her naked and undone, and his body juiced to life.
As he slid off the stool and went to the female, he could have sworn Lassiter murmured, "That's why."
Approaching the female, he said, "Hey, did you get the food?"
"Yes," she whispered. "But I was worried when you didn't come back. What happened?"
He glanced back at Lassiter. The angel appeared to have passed out, his breathing even, the remote resting on his chest in a lax hand, the drink beading up with condensation on the floor beside him.
But Tohr didn't trust the out-cold appearance.
"Nothing," he said roughly. "It's... nothing. Let's go upstairs and have a rest."
As he turned her away with a subtle touch on her shoulders, she said, "You sure?"
"Yeah." And they really were going to rest. He was suddenly exhausted.
He spared one last glance over the shoulder as he headed into the foyer. Lassiter was exactly where he'd been... except there was the smallest hint of a smile on his face.
Like everything had been worth it, as long as Tohr and No'One were together.
