Butch followed through on the stab, and as the flare faded, he looked at the top of the Dumpster. One-half of the lid was closed. The other part was hanging cockeyed off to the side, as if it had been peeled by a passing truck, and the dim light that shone in was enough for him to go by. Apparently, the building serviced by the bin had some kind of metal-working thing going on because there were countless curls of thin metal in it, like crazy-ass Halloween wigs—
In and among them, there was a dirty, pale hand that had small, thin fingers . . .
“Shiiiiiiit,” he whispered.
Years of training and experience shot him right into detective mode, but he had to remind himself that there was no time left for him in this alleyway. Dawn was coming, and if he didn’t get his groove on and go back to the compound, he was up in smoke.
Besides, his days as a cop had long passed.
This was human business. Not his anymore.
In an absolutely foul mood, he raced over to the SUV, put the cocksucking engine in drive, and floored the gas even though he had to cover only about twenty yards. When he slammed on the brake, the Escalade screeched and fishtailed on the damp pavement, stopping a mere foot from V’s bent form.
As the vehicle’s automatic wipers swept back and forth, Butch punched the passenger-side window down.
“Get in the car,” he ordered, staring straight ahead.
No response.
“Get in the
Back at the Brotherhood’s place of healing, Payne was in a room other than the one she’d started out in, and yet everything seemed the same: She was lying motionless on a bed that was not her own in a state of impotent agitation.
The only difference was that her hair was loose now.
As thoughts of her last moments with her healer barged into her mind, she let them run amok, too tired to fight the surge. Whatever state had she left him in? Covering up his memories had felt like an act of robbery, and his blank stare afterward had terrified her. What if she had done harm to him . . .
He was utterly innocent in this—they were using him and then all but discarding him, and he deserved so much better. Even if he hadn’t fixed her, he had done his level best, of that she was certain.
After she had sent him off to wherever he was most likely to go at that time of night, she had been racked with regret—and very aware that she could not be trusted with any information on how to contact him. Those electric moments between them were too much temptation to turn away from, and the last thing she wanted was to have to steal more memories from him.
With strength that had come from fear, she’d unbraided what he had plaited for her . . . until his little card had fallen to the floor.
And now she was here.
Verily, the only course for the pair of them was to cut off communication. If she survived . . . if she had indeed been made whole by him . . . she would seek him out . . . and for what purpose?
Oh, whoever was she kidding. The kiss that had never happened. That was why she would seek him out. And they wouldn’t stop there.
Thoughts of the Chosen Layla came forth, and she found herself wishing she could go back to the conversation the two of them had had at the reflecting pool mere days ago. Layla had found a male with whom she wished to mate, and Payne had thought she’d gone daft in the head—a stance forged in ignorance, as it had turned out. In less time than it took to have a meal, her human healer had taught her that she could feel for the opposite sex.
Fates, she would never forget what he looked like, standing o’er her bed, his body so thickly aroused and ready to take hers. Males were magnificent like that, and what a surprise to learn such a thing.
Well, her healer was magnificent. She didn’t imagine she would feel the same if it had been anyone else. And she wondered what it would have felt like, to have his mouth upon hers. His body within hers—
Ah, what fantasies could be spun when one was alone and feeling morose.
For truth, what future could they have? She was a female who didn’t fit in anywhere, a warrior stuck within the tepid skin of a Chosen’s body—to say nothing of the paralysis problem. Meanwhile, he was a vibrant, sexual male of a species different from her own.
Fate would ne’er see fit to put them together, and mayhap that was a good thing. It would be too cruel for them both, because there could never be any mating—of the ceremonial or the physical kind: She was ensconced here in the Brotherhood’s secret enclave, and if the king’s protocol didn’t keep them apart, her brother’s violent streak certainly would.
They were not to be.
As the door swung open and Jane walked in, it was a relief to focus upon something, anything else, and Payne tried to summon a smile at the ghostly mate of her twin.
“You’re awake,” Jane said, coming over.
Payne frowned at the female’s tense expression. “How fare thee?”
“More important, how are you?” Jane set a hip on the bed, her eyes tracing the mechanicals that monitored every pump of blood and draw of lung. “Are you resting comfortably?”
Not at all. “Indeed. And I thank you for all that has been done on my behalf. Tell me, though, wherever is my brother?”
“He is . . . not home yet. But he will be soon. He’s going to want to see you.”
“And I he.”
V’s
“You do not know where he is, do you,” Payne murmured.
“Oh . . . I know the place. All too well.”
“So you are worried about his predilections, then.” Payne winced a little. “Forgive me. I am e’er too blunt.”
“It’s all right. Actually, I do better with blunt than polite.” Jane’s eyes shut briefly. “So you know . . . about him?”
“Everything. All of it. And I loved him afore I e’er met him.”
“How do you . . . did you—”
“Know? ’Tis the work of a moment when you are a Chosen. The seeing bowls have allowed me to watch him through all the seasons of his life. And I daresay that this time, with you, is by far the best.”
Jane made a noncommittal noise. “Do you know what happens next?”
Ah, always the question—and as Payne thought of her legs, she found herself wondering along similar lines. “Alas, I cannot say, as ’tis only the past that is shown, or the very nearest moment-to-moment of the present.”
There was a long silence. And then Jane said, “I find Vishous so hard to reach sometimes. He’s right in front of me . . . but I can’t get to him.” Dark green eyes flashed over. “He hates emotion. And he’s very independent. Well, I’m the same way. Unfortunately, in situations like this, I feel like the pair of us are not so much together as side by side, if that makes sense? God, listen to me. I’m rambling . . . and I sound like I’ve got problems with him.”
“On the contrary, I know how much you adore him. And I am not at all unversed with his nature.” Payne thought of the abuse wrought upon her twin. “Has he e’er spoken of our father?”
“Not really.”
“I am unsurprised.”
Jane’s eyes held hers. “What was the Bloodletter like?”
What to reply to that? “Let us just say . . . I killed him for what he did to my brother—and we shall leave it at that.”
“God . . .”
“More like the devil, if you apply human traditions.”
