Ecstasy Unveiled
Page 22

“We’ve paged Eidolon and Shade.” A female nurse guided Idess toward another room with a furry hand on her elbow. “And his arm is wrapped to prevent any accidents.”
“Good. Is… wait.” Idess halted. “Accidents? With his arm?”
“As I said, we’ve wrapped it. There’s no need to worry. The entire staff has been made aware of his condition.”
“And what condition is that?”
“You don’t know?” The nurse’s bushy eyebrows dove into a deep frown. “Anyone who comes into contact with his right arm dies instantly.”
Idess remembered his telling her not to touch his arm when she’d been cleaning him… was that why?
“Now, let’s take care of you. That knife isn’t going to come out on its own.”
“No.” Idess backed away from the Slogthu nurse whose underbite and patchy fur made her look like a scrawny bulldog. “I have to make sure Lore is going to be all right.”
“He’d better be.” Sin stepped out of the Harrowgate and marched toward her. “This is your fault.”
“Your blade is in his throat,” Idess pointed out. “Not mine. And I did bring him here for help.”
Sin’s fists curled into balls at her sides. “Just pray Lore makes it.”
Sin sank down in a chair and stared blankly into the room where staff was frantically working on Lore. He lay motionless on the gurney, blood pooling on the floor beneath him. A technician was squeezing the contents of an IV bag into him through a line in his left arm. Another was forcing air into his lungs through a mask and bag.
Please, God, let him live. A useless prayer, no doubt, given that he was a demon, but helplessness and terror had her desperate to try anything. Please don’t let me lose another Primori. Because that was her major concern. He was Primori, and if she lost him, she would never get into Heaven and earn her wings.
She was concerned only because he was her Primori.
The lie sat on her chest like an elephant, especially when one of the doctors stepped back to grab some sort of metal tool and she saw Lore’s hand dangling over the edge of the gurney. It was the same one he’d used to touch her. To pleasure her. And now it hung limp and lifeless, streaked with blood.
Idess’s chest constricted. Please don’t die.
His heraldi screamed with pain, as if someone was trying to scoop it out with a dull spoon. The excruciating pangs made her own knife impalement seem like nothing more than an insect sting.
Don’t die! She reached deep for the gift she shouldn’t use, the one that had the power to heal—or kill—and she never knew which it would do. But Lore was going to die anyway, so she could try it and hope for a positive outcome—
Eidolon exploded out of the Harrowgate. Thank God. If anyone could save Lore, it would be him. His hair was mussed and his shirt untucked and only half-buttoned, and he barely glanced her way as he raced into the room. Immediately, his dermoire lit up, and he was barking out orders and calling for an operating room.
Eidolon wheeled Lore out of the room, slowing just long enough to say to Sin, “I’ll keep you posted.”
Fourteen
Sin couldn’t wait. Couldn’t sit around and do nothing but snarl at hospital staff while her brother lay dying on an operating table.
Bile backed up in Sin’s throat, bitter and caustic, because what had happened to Lore wasn’t entirely Idess’s fault. But right now, Sin wasn’t prepared to take any of the blame on herself. Now? Try never, if Lore died.
Venomous pricks of anger stung her skin. She didn’t rage out like Lore did when he didn’t have enough orgasms in a day, but she did get irritable and ill if she didn’t take care of herself, and she had a tendency to fly off the handle with very little provocation. That certainly wouldn’t help her brother, and could possibly make things worse if she pissed off the wrong staff member.
The warning signs were creeping up on her, from her stinging skin to muscles that felt stretched to the point of snapping if she didn’t do something to loosen them up. She could f**k something or kill something, and either way she’d get the release she needed.
She eyed Idess. Killing her would definitely trip Sin’s relief valve. Too bad she couldn’t do it, and not because of the Haven spell. Lore had taken a blade for the wench for some reason, and until Sin found out why, Idess got to keep her head.
So as Idess finally allowed doctors to treat her knife wound, Sin fled, trying to outrun her rage, her fear, her thoughts. She didn’t know where she was going, but anywhere was better than being alone in her own head.
Maybe the hospital had a gym, where she could beat the hell out of a punching bag. Or a pub, where she could beat the hell out of her liver.
She ran faster. Blindly. She had to go somewhere.
Before she got there, she ran into Conall. Literally. He collided with her when he stepped out of a room that, when she peered inside, looked like a dentist’s office. And sure enough, the sign on the door confirmed it. Demon dentists? Her brothers thought of everything, didn’t they?
“Hey.” Conall took her elbow and brought her to a halt. “You okay?”
“Stop it,” she snapped. “Just stop it! I don’t need their concern or yours or anyone’s.”
“Whoa.” Conall held up his hands and stepped back. “Bite my head off.”
She tried to dredge up a kernel of guilt for snapping at him, but she’d trained herself too well to feel that emotion. Well, that wasn’t true. She felt it, but it mostly manifested as physical pain in her killing arm. And this guy was not worth a scar.
Under any other circumstance, however, he’d be worth a healthy leer. Men in uniforms had never done it for her, but something about the way he filled out his paramedic BDUs did it for her far too well. From the black turtleneck beneath the black uniform shirt, to the well-fitting, multipocketed pants and huge combat boots, he was a solid wall of yum. Something told her he was as good at his job as he was at… everything.
“Why are you here?” she asked, not bothering to temper her irritation at all.
Conall cocked a brow. “I work here.”
Well, duh. But he wasn’t exactly upset to see her, as he’d been in the parking lot. “And?”
A sheepish grin lit his face, exposing sexy fangs. “And maybe I was hoping to find you.”
She snarled. “I knew it. Eidolon probably asked you to keep an eye on me. Or get to know me or some shit.” She jabbed him in his very muscular chest with a finger. “Well, f**k you and f**k him. And Shade. And Wraith. I don’t want anything to do with you or them or this hospital, and I sure as hell don’t want to get to know any of you.”
“I don’t want to get to know you.” Conall’s hand closed around hers, and an instant shock of lust sparked at the contact. “I want to f**k you.”
“Oh.” Oh. Well, that was more like it. Her blood heated, but at this point, that wouldn’t take much. She was jonesing for sex, and the more she looked at Conall, the more antsy she became. This might just be the distraction she needed from her thoughts and fears about everything that could go wrong in an operating room. But Sin narrowed her eyes at him, because nothing around here seemed that simple. “You promise that’s all you want?”
His gaze seared her as he boldly dragged it up and down her body. “I swear I want only to get into your pants.”
What a relief. Finally, someone in this damned hospital who didn’t want to get to know her or get into her heart or head. “Well, in that case…” She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall, figuring she could find a suitable room, but he yanked her to a halt outside a supply closet door.
“In here,” he said, tugging her inside with him. “No one ever looks in here.”
In a heartbeat he had her backed up to the wall, his mouth on hers and his thigh between her legs. His lips were soft but his kiss hard, and he tasted like brandy and exotic, dark coffee. Kissing was not her favorite act, but Conall wielded his tongue and fangs like erotic weapons that penetrated her defenses with remarkable ease.
He palmed her breast, and a moan escaped her. God, she never moaned, had always been silent in her passions. Her sexual needs controlled her, but she refused to give any of that control over to the males she slept with. Determined to take charge, she dropped her hand to Conall’s fly and cupped his erection. Oh, my. This was going to be good.
Wetness flooded her sex as her blood heated even more. Conall was only making it worse by dragging his lips down her neck, nibbling and kissing as he kneaded her br**sts and rocked his leg against her core.
“I’ve never done it in a storeroom.” Her voice was rough and low, throbbing with the same arousal that was now working its way between her legs.
His smile tickled her collarbone. “These rooms see a lot of action. Though not so much now that the Sem brothers are mated.” He froze. His gaze snapped up at her. “Wait.
Who are they to you? Cousins? Friends?”
“Assholes.”
“Yes, but how do you know them?”
She bucked in frustration. “They’re my brothers. Can we get back to it?”
“Brothers?” He cursed. Backed up. “We’re not doing this.”
Sin’s entire body cramped at the lost contact. Getting this worked up and breaking it off led to pain and misery, and no way was she letting this jerk tease her and leave her. “We are doing this.” She fisted his collar and forced him back to her.
His hands came up to peel hers away. “No. We aren’t. Those guys are hyperprotective. Once, an orderly tried to seduce Shade’s sister, Skulk, and… let’s just say that the guy still walks with a limp. I’m pretty sure he’s missing his tongue, too. Don’t know, because he doesn’t talk anymore.”
“Dammit.” Sin tore off her top and ripped open her jeans. “They don’t know me, don’t like me, and they have no say in what I do.” She shoved down her pants and thong and stepped out of them, loving the way Conall’s eyes darkened from sterling silver to wrought iron despite his sudden paranoia.
Conall swallowed. A couple of times. “No.”
At least the conviction had gone from his voice. Still, he backed toward the door. “Don’t do it, vampire,” she warned. “Or whatever you are.”
“I have to.” His hand came down on the doorknob.
“Open it, and I’ll tell them you tried to rape me.”
He hissed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” Her body was aching. Hot. So hot she couldn’t even feel bad about the threat she’d just delivered. Foul curses fell from Con’s made-to-please mouth. “You bitch.”
“Hey, you approached me. Got me all worked up. You need to work on your follow-through.”
“Oh,” he began, in a husky tone, “I have no problem with follow-through. What I have a problem with is your brothers and what they’ll do to my balls if they find out I f**ked you like an animal in a damned closet.”
“An animal?” The images of him taking her rough and hard filled her head and actually made her sweat a little. “Really?” She was proud of the way she didn’t sound hopeful.
“What? You’re the tender loving type?” He snorted. “Not buying it.”
She’d never had tender, loving sex, so no, she wasn’t that type. Even the nicest of her masters had never been overly gentle, and the sex partners she chose for herself never hurt her, but neither did they pretend that she was anything but a screw. And she didn’t want them to, because they were nothing but a screw to her either.
“I’m definitely not that type,” she said. “So let’s do the animal thing. Or are you too chicken?”
A decidedly wolflike growl erupted in his chest. “Don’t test me, female.”
Her chin came up, and she said clearly and distinctly, “Chicken.”
The growl intensified. “You are very lucky the moon tide hasn’t stirred my blood yet.”
“Bawk. Bawk.”
His control snapped like a two-hundred-pound mastiff tethered by kite string. He let out a howl and surged toward her, and oh, wow… the truth hit her just before his body did. Moon tide. Wolfy growl. Bloodsucking fangs, but warm-blooded.
He was a vampire, but he was also a warg. He was a dhampire, a rare cross between a vampire and a werewolf. So rare, in fact, that their existence was thought by many to be a myth.
Conall caught her by the shoulders, spun her, and put her against the wall so his chest was hot against her back and his erection was hard against the seam of her butt.
“I warned you,” he rasped into her ear. “Know this; I’m not going to have sex with you because you taunted me with childish name-calling.” She heard the unmistakable, soft rasp of a zipper, and then felt the searing heat of his c**k on the bare skin of her ass. “I’m going to f**k you because you need a sound thrashing.”
She gasped in outrage, and then gasped in pleasure as he sheathed himself inside her. Her core clenched around him, and she clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t make another sound, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could affect her in any way.
Again, habit. Habit born of humiliation, of the knowledge that she was a disgusting, horrible, evil creature that cl**axed only when her partner did. Any partner. Under any circumstances. And if that wasn’t the most fucked-up thing ever, she didn’t know what was.
Conall’s breath fanned her ear as he thrust into her, his rhythm wild and raw. Even his grip on her h*ps was fierce as his fingers dug in.