Lover Unleashed - J. R. Ward [124]
“You want to punch me? Okay, but wait until after I’ve worked on your leg.”
“No, sick . . . to stomach.”
Manello shook his head. “I need some pain control over here. Let’s get some Demer—”
“Not Demerol,” V and Jane said together.
V’s eyes shot over in her direction. She’d gone across the way and was down on the floor, leaning over Blaylock’s stomach, stitching up a mean-looking slice. Her hands were rock-steady and her work was absolutely perfect, everything about her the very picture of professional competence. Except for the tears running down her face.
With a moan, he looked up to the chandelier above him.
“Morphine okay?” Manello asked as he cut through the sleeve of V’s biker jacket. “And don’t bother being tough. The last thing I need is you woofing all over yourself while I’m poking around down there.”
Jane didn’t answer this time, so V did. “Yeah. That’s cool.”
As a syringe was filled, Butch stepped up into the surgeon’s grille. Even as incapacitated as the cop was from the inhaling, he was straight-up deadly as he spoke. “I don’t need to tell you not to fuck my buddy. Right.”
The surgeon looked around his little-glass-bottle-and-needle routine. “I’m not thinking about sex at the moment, thank you very much. But if I was, it sure as shit wouldn’t be with him. So instead of worrying about who I’m tapping, how’d you like to do us all a favor and have a shower. You stink.”
Butch blinked. Then smiled a little. “You have balls.”
“And they’re made of brass. Big as church bells, too.”
Next thing V knew, something cold was rubbing on the juncture of his arm; then there was a prick, and shortly thereafter, he went on a little ride, his body turning into a cotton ball, all light and airy. From time to time, pain broke through, rocking up from his gut and nailing him in the heart. But it wasn’t connected to whatever Manello was doing to his injury: V couldn’t take his eyes off his mate as she treated his brothers.
Through the wavy pane of his vision, he watched as she dealt with Blay and then worked on Tohrment. He couldn’t hear what she was saying because his ears weren’t really working all that well, but Blay was clearly grateful and Tohr seemed eased just by her presence. From time to time, Manello asked her something, or Ehlena stopped her with a question, or Tohr winced and she paused to calm him.
This was her life, wasn’t it. This healing, this pursuit of excellence, this abiding devotion to her patients.
Her duty to them defined her, didn’t it.
And seeing her like this made him rethink what had happened between her and Payne. If Payne had been hell-bent on taking her own life, Jane would undoubtedly have tried to stop her. And then when it became apparent she couldn’t . . .
Abruptly, as if she knew he was staring at her, Jane’s eyes flipped to his. They were so shadowed he could barely tell their color, and she momentarily lost her corporeal form, as if he’d sucked the will to live right out of her.
That surgeon’s face got in the way. “You need more pain relief?”
“What?” V asked around his thick, dry tongue.
“You groaned.”
“Not . . . about . . . the knee.”
“It’s not just your knee.”
“. . . what . . . ?”
“I think your hip’s dislocated. I’m going to take the pants all the way off.”
“Whatever . . .”
As V went back to staring at Jane, he was only vaguely aware of scissors going up both sides of his leathers, but he knew exactly when the surgeon got all the cowhide off of him. The guy let out a sharp hiss . . . that was quickly covered up.
Sure as shit the reaction was not about the tattooed warnings in the Old Language.
“Sorry, Doc,” V mumbled, not sure why in the hell he was apologizing for the mess down below his waist.
“I’ll, ah . . . I’ll cover you up.” The human shot off and returned with a blanket that he put on V’s lower abdomen. “I just need to look your joints over.”
“You . . . do that.”
Vishous’s eyes returned to Jane and he found himself wondering . . . if she hadn’t died and been brought back as