So close now. He was so close.
Maybe he just needed to hold his Mary for a little bit.
Havers’s clinic had been moved to this new, state-of-the-art location, and Rhage had been to visit only a couple of times: Once when he’d gotten an abdominal wound that wasn’t going to wait to head all the way back to the Brotherhood compound. Another when Mary had needed a pickup after attending to a female and her young son. Maybe a third time. He couldn’t remember.
When he finally got to the turnoff, he cursed at the breathlessness. At the rate he was going? He was going to need treatment.
Maybe he had a virus. Vampires didn’t get human ones, or cancer—thank God—but they could get taken down by colds and flu that affected members of the species.
Yeah, that was probably it.
Had to be.
As the GTO’s headlights finally splashed across a dull, unassuming little concrete-block structure, he felt the whatever-it-was ease off a bit, which was a welcome surprise. At least he wouldn’t have to see his Mary with him lookin’ all wall-eyed weird.
Getting out, he went around to the trunk and sprang the deep purple panel.
The sight of Mary’s duffel bag, which he himself had packed, brought back the symptoms: His head swam and his palms got sweaty—like he wasn’t standing in the cold wind with nothing but leathers and a muscle shirt on.
“Enough with this bullcrap.” He picked up the handles and lifted the bag out; then reshut things. “You’ve got to get your shit together.”
Approaching the low-slung building, he went into a nothing-special anteroom and checked in. A moment later, the elevator came up its shaft and opened for him. Like a lot of things that had to operate in the daylight by necessity, Havers’s newest facility was completely subterranean, the upper part nothing but a prop to weed out valid visitors from potential problems.
Like humans. Slayers.
Down into the earth. Out into the waiting room. As he emerged into the reception area, he wondered how he was going to find her—
“Oh, God, you’re here.”
His Mary came at him like she was being chased, and as she jumped into his arms, he dropped the damn bag, closed his eyes and held her so hard it was a wonder she could still breathe. But, like she said, oh, God . . .
Her scent, her feel, her body, the way her arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed the ever-loving shit out of him—it was all like water in a desert, filling him up, soaking him with a nourishment that he had sorely missed, giving him back his strength and power.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said in his ear. “So, so, so much.”
Not wanting to put her down, he bent and picked up her bag; then carried her and the duffel full of clothes to the far corner, away from the eyes of the receptionist.
Which were focused on them like the female was writing romantic dialogue in her head.
Whatever, he wasn’t going to get pissy about it, but he didn’t exactly want to broadcast his reunion to the world, either.
Settling his Mary in his lap, he ran his hands down her arms and then went in for a kiss, fusing his mouth with hers as a way to solidify the reconnection. He didn’t trust himself, though—so he broke shit off fast.
Too much lip-to-lip and he was liable to mount her in public.
Oh, heeeeeey, Havers, how you doin’?
His Mary smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a year.”
“Me, too, only it was a decade on my end.”
Yeah, so what if he was a panting dog for her. Fuck ya.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“No, I’m wasting away to normal. I haven’t eaten, I can’t sleep, and I feel like someone has put itching powder in my jock strap.”
She laughed. “That bad? Jeez, I shouldn’t feel complimented, should I?”
Leaning in, he said softly, “And I’ve got carpal tunnel in my left wrist.”
“From doing what?” she drawled.
“What do you think?” He nuzzled at her neck. Nipped her vein. “I’ve had to do something to keep busy in our mated bed. And the shower. And once in the pantry.”
“In the pantry? Downstairs?”
“We had baby new potatoes for Last Meal. They reminded me of you naked.”
More of that laughter and he closed his eyes, letting the joy resonate in his hollow skull.
“How is that possible?” she asked.
“They look like breasts.”
“They do not!”
“I didn’t say they looked like good breasts.” He kissed down to her collarbone. “Or your breasts, which, parenthetically, are the most perfect ones I will ever see. In my life. Or my afterlife. Or whatever comes after that.”
“You’re that desperate that you’re triggered by carbohydrates.”
“Aren’t they a starch? And I jerked off twice in the pantry, actually. Because after I took care of things the first time, I realized I was standing next to the canned peaches.” He surreptitiously inched his hand up her thigh. “And you can imagine what that got me thinking about.”
Ohhhhh, yeah, he thought as her scent changed, her arousal super-charging the air around them.
Abruptly, he eased back. “Hey, you got a minute?”
She cleared her throat like she was trying to refocus. “Yes, sure. Is there anything wrong?”
“I just have to show you something out in my car.”
“You took the GTO?”
“I had to bring your stuff, so I figured I’d take it for a drive.”
“How nice.” Getting to her feet, she stretched in a way that made him want to palm her breasts. “Actually, I’d love to get some real air for a second. I could use the break.”
As they went past reception, he put the duffel on the counter. “Okay if we leave this here for about ten minutes?”
As the receptionist nodded, it appeared that something had gotten the better of her voice. And her sense of balance apparently, because as she went to sit back down, she nearly yard-saled it by falling off the side of her chair.
Over at the elevators, Mary whispered, “I think she likes you.”
“Who?”
“The receptionist?”
Leaning down, he said back, “She might as well be a vacuum cleaner for all I care. And I mean that with all due respect.”
As the doors opened, that small, secret smile on his Mary’s face was a gift from God as far as he was concerned.
Up, up, up they went, and then they were outside and he was sheltering her with his body as he put his arm around her and led her over to the GTO. By some stroke of complete luck, he’d parked the car in a darkened patch, away from the security lights—and that was just perfect.
Opening the driver’s-side door, he put the seat forward and indicated the way into the back.
Mary frowned, but bent down and shuffled into the backseat. As he joined her, he shut them in, and was really glad the glass had been recently tinted.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s going on—”
Taking her hand, he put it on his rigid arousal. “This.”
“Rhage!” She laughed some more. “You brought me out here just to—”
He started kissing her mouth and putting his hands around her waist. “Outcome engineer. You knew it when you mated me.”
As she kissed him back, he and his Beast were all about the thank-fuck, and he moved fast, because he didn’t want them to get caught—not because he had anything against sex in semi-public places, but rather because he didn’t want to have to tear the throat out of some innocent son of a bitch who had come for a Band-Aid and ended up with an eyeful or an earful of what they were doing.
Talk about your boo-boos.
He got her loose pants off one of her legs and her in his lap before pulling a fly-away in front of his hips.
And then it was go time.
When he thrust up hard, Mary let out a curse—as her head bonked into the roof of the car.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he groaned.
“Like I care?” she said, taking his mouth with her own. “I need you so badly.”