“If you already knew the answer, why’d you ask?”
He went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Unless… you could be bonded to Lore, since the markings are the same. With his human genes, the bond could have gone funky.”
“Yep,” she said, feeling nauseated at the mere thought of being bonded in any way other than birth to Lore. “We were wondering what happened with that.”
His gaze cut sharply to hers, and in the long, tense silence, they stared at each other. It was weird, looking at the complete stranger who was her brother, as he tried to puzzle together both the obvious and the impossible.
Blood pumped from her wound in a warm rush between his fingers, and his dermoire lit up.
“No!” she snapped. “Don’t heal it. It’s mine to deal with.”
Ignoring her, he slid his fingers into the wound. She rocked her head up and bit him in the biceps.
“Ow!” He jerked his hand away. “Damn you. At least let me stitch it.”
“I’ve hit you, kneed you, bitten you… and all you can think about is fixing a scratch?”
“It’s more than a scratch, and I am a doctor. So, go figure, I’ve got this crazy desire to help people.” Warily, he released her. “You going to play nice so I can close that wound?” He scanned her body. “And the one on your leg?”
Shit. This had gotten way out of hand. She could promise to play nice and try to escape again, but she had a feeling she’d end up in the same situation she was currently in. And he wasn’t going to let the dermoire thing go. The fire in his eyes made that clear enough.
Damn you, Lore. You just had to find these guys, didn’t you?
“Fine,” she growled. “But don’t you dare use that stupid healing thingie Lore says you do. I want stitches. On my arm. You can zap the leg scratch.”
“Stitches will leave a scar…” He trailed off as he took in the hundred other scars running the length of her arm. “Though I guess that’s not a big deal for you.”
“Duh.”
He shook his head in exasperation, but he eased off her and offered her a hand up. She refused. Her arm hurt like hell, but she managed to get up and plant herself on the bed while he gathered a tray of supplies.
“So. You’re mated to Lore. Since when?”
Her heart shot into her throat at the seemingly innocent question she knew was really a grilling. Low-level heat, but still. “It was recent. Still honeymooning, you know?” God, it actually grossed her out to say that.
“Really.” He drew a chair and the tray around the bed in front of her. “And you say you’re looking for him?”
“Yeah. I’m worried.”
“Is he in pain?” His dermoire lit up, and he channeled an excruciating amount of power into her leg.
“I have no idea,” she gritted out. “How the hell would I know?”
He leaned forward to look her in the eye, and she started to sweat, because he’d just turned up the heat a notch. “Because,” he said, “if you were bonded, you’d feel his pain. You aren’t mated to him. So why don’t you tell me the truth?”
“And what would that be, Dr. Smartypants?”
“That you are somehow his sister.” His voice went low. Dangerous. “Which means you’re somehow mine.”
Eidolon shut off his healing power and waited for the female’s response, his mind working overtime to believe what it insisted made sense, despite the utter impossibility. A sister? How?
“There are no female Seminus demons,” she said finally. “You should know that, brainiac.”
His movements were jerky and brisk as he swabbed the area around her arm laceration and prepared to inject her with anesthetic. “I do know that. But unless this is a trick, the evidence is telling me otherwise.”
“Well, aren’t we the logical one?”
“I try.”
He eyed her, noted that she had their family’s dark hair, though hers was so black that it had a blue cast to it. She had their dark eyes, tan skin, and the markings on her arm were fucking perfect. Of course, any of those things could be manufactured. Only her size was odd—she was short, maybe Tayla’s height, and though she was toned, she was petite, and in that way very opposite Eidolon and his brothers.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re wrong. And don’t put that shit in me. I can take the pain.” She shoved his hand away as he attempted to inject the numbing medicine.
“Funny how you sound just like Wraith, Ms. I’m Not Related to You.” Ignoring her Wraithlike string of insults, he paged a nurse, and while he waited, he prepared a suture kit and let what he’d learned sink in. Lore’s markings were identical to hers… faded, with no personal symbol. Lore was a cambion, born of a human-Seminus mating, and those went screwy a lot, so even though it was unlikely that a female could be born of that kind of mating, it might not be impossible.
The door opened, and Chu-Hua, a Guai nurse who resembled an upright wild boar, stepped in. “Yes, doctor?”