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“Okay.” She shrugged out of her coat. “Do what you have to.”

Mm… Speaking of doing. His eyes went down her scrubs. And all he could see was her naked.

“V,” she said in a low voice. “What are you looking at?”

“My female.”

She laughed softly. “You have something on your mind?”

“Maybe.”

“What could it be, I wonder?” The dewy scent of arousal came off her, triggering his need to mark sure as if she were naked and spread before him.

He took her hand and put it between his legs. “Guess.”

“Oh…yes…that again.”

“Always.”

In a smooth surge he bared his fangs with a hiss, bit through the collar of her scrubs, and ripped the cloth right down the middle. Her bra was cotton and white and, bless its little frickin’ heart, had a front clasp. He sprang it free, latched onto one of her nipples, and dragged her off the counter.

The trip upstairs to her bedroom was an interesting one, with a lot of pauses that resulted in her being naked by the time he laid her out on her mattress. It was the work of a moment to ditch his leathers and his shirt, and as he mounted her his mouth was open, his fangs fully extended.

She smiled up at him. “Thirsty?”

“Yes.”

With an elegant tilt of the chin she gave him access to her throat, and on a growl he penetrated her in two ways, between her thighs and at her neck. As he took her hard, she scored his back with her short nails and wrapped her legs around his hips.

It was a good two hours before the sex was over, and as he lay in the dark beside her, satiated and at peace, he counted the blessings he had, and laughed a little.

“What?” she asked.

“For all my seeing into the future, I never would have predicted this.”

“No?”

“This…this would have been too much to hope for.” He kissed her temple, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to start to slip into slumber.

But it was not to happen. A black shadow crossed over him on his way to repose, tripping his psychic wires, ushering in an intrusion of fear and panic. He told himself he had the heebs because when you narrowly missed the chance to be with the one you loved, it took a little while to chill out.

The explanation didn’t stick. He knew it was something else…something too terrifying to consider, a bomb in his mailbox.

He feared destiny wasn’t finished with them yet.

“You okay?” Jane said. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m fine.” He moved even closer to her. “As long as you’re with me, I’m fine.”

Chapter Forty-two

On the Other Side, Phury came down the slope to the amphitheater with Z and Wrath flanking him. The Scribe Virgin and the Directrix were waiting in the center of the stage, both in black. The Directrix didn’t seem thrilled, her eyes narrow, her lips flat, her hands tight on a medallion that hung off her neck. There was no reading the Scribe Virgin. Her face was hidden beneath her robing, but even if it had shown, Phury doubted he’d be able to know what she was thinking.

He stopped in front of the golden throne but didn’t sit down. Probably would have been a good idea, though. He felt as if he were floating, his body drifting, not walking, his head somewhere other than on his shoulders. Could be the bale’s worth of red smoke he’d inhaled, he thought. Or that fact that he was marrying over three dozen females.

Dear. God.

“Wrath, son of Wrath,” the Scribe Virgin pronounced. “Come forward and greet me.”

Wrath walked up to the edge of the stage and knelt down. “Your grace.”

“You have something to ask me. Do it now, provided you phrase it correctly.”

“If it would not offend, I would ask to have Phury subject to the same arrangement Vishous was provided with in regard to fighting. We are in need of warriors.”

“I am inclined to grant this leave for the time being. He shall live over there—”

Phury cut in with a solid, “No.” As everyone jerked around toward him, he said, “I will stay here. I will fight, but I will stay here.” He tossed in a little bow to make up for his rudeness. “If it would not offend.”

Zsadist’s mouth opened, a whole lot of what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking