“Well, then I won’t go looking for one.”
Wrath cut off any further debate. “Will you shut the door.” You fucking idiot. “I just have to ask you a couple of questions. And tell your nurse to leave, would you.”
“Of … course.”
Fear spiked the air as the nurse departed and the door was shut, and Wrath didn’t blame the guy for being nervous.
“How may I be of service, my lord?”
Wrath pictured the male from memory, imaging that Havers still had those glasses on his Ivy League–looking face, and that white coat with his name stitched next to the lapel. As if there might be some confusion around his clinic as to who he was.
“I want to know what you can do to stop a female’s needing.”
Crickets. Whole lot of crickets.
Well, except for V muttering something that probably started with F and ended in U-C-K.
After a moment, there was a creak, as if the good doctor had sat down next to Wrath’s sofa. “I, ah, I am unsure how to answer that, my lord.”
“Give it a shot,” Wrath said dryly. “And quick. I don’t have all night.”
Quiet sounds suggested the male was fiddling with things. A pen? Maybe a stethoscope? “Has she … has the, ah, female … has it commenced?”
“No.”
The silence that followed made him wish he hadn’t come here. He wasn’t walking out now, though, and not just because he’d lost track of where the door was already. “It’s not my shellan, by the way. It’s a friend of mine.”
Jesus Christ, like he had an STD or some shit.
But at least that loosened up the doctor. Instantly, the male’s vibe calmed and his mouth got to flapping. “I have no good answer for you, unfortunately. Thus far, I have found no way to halt the time’s commencement. I have tried various drugs, even those available on the human market—the issue is that vampire females have an extra hormone that, when triggered, creates an overwhelming, system-wide response. As a result, human contraceptive pills or shots don’t have any effect on our females.”
Wrath shook his head. He should have known—nothing about the reproductive cycle of a female vampire was easy.
Dumb-ass Scribe Virgin. Oh, sure, go ahead and create a race of people—and while you’re at it, why don’t you saddle them with some really tough shit. Perfect.
Havers continued, his seat creaking again as if he were changing positions. “Easing the female during her suffering is the only method I’ve had success with. Would you require a kit for your associate, my lord?”
“Kit, as in…”
“For treatment of the needing.”
He thought of Beth sitting in that room with Layla. God only knew how long that had been going on—but more to the point, he was afraid it had worked: He’d totally gotten sprung in his shellan’s presence. And yeah, that was not unusual, except for the fact that they’d been arguing and sex had been the last fucking thing on his mind.
Her hormones might well be in flux already.
Either that or he was paranoid.
Also a possibility.
“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I want one.”
There was the sound of something being written down. “Now, I will need the male in charge of her to sign for this, either her hellren, her father, or the oldest male of her household. I don’t feel comfortable sending these levels of narcotics out into the world unaccounted for—and of course, there will have to be someone there to administer them to her. Not only will she in all likelihood be compromised by the needing, but let us be honest. Females don’t have the best heads for these things anyway.”
For some reason, Wrath thought of Payne accusing him of being a misogynist.
At least Havers totally lapped him on that one—
Oh shit, how was he going to sign anything? Back home at his desk, Saxton always marked the signature line with a series of raised— “I’ll sign for it,” V interjected sharply. “And my shellan, who’s a doctor just like you, will take care of everything else.”
“You are mated?” the physician sputtered. As if there were a greater chance of a meteor dropping on his clinic. “I mean—”
“Give me the paper,” Vishous said. “And your pen.”
Cue more scribbling in an even more awkward silence.
“What is her weight?” Havers asked, as there was a shuffling like he was putting something in a file.
“I don’t know,” Wrath said.
“Would you like me to see the female in question, my lord? She may come here at any time that is convenient, or I could provide a home visit—”
“One thirty-six,” V said. “And enough with the conversation. Get us the drugs so we can get the hell out of here.”
As Havers tripped over his own loafers to leave the room, Wrath leaned back until his head hit the plaster wall he’d been unaware of being behind him.
“You want to tell me what the fuck this is about now?” his brother bit out. “Because I’m jumping to a lot of conclusions at the moment, and neither one of us needs that—when you could just answer the cocksucking question.”
“Beth has been hanging out with Layla.”
“Because she wants…”
“A young.”
A fresh influx of Turkish tobacco hit Wrath’s nose, suggesting the brother had just taken a deep drag. “So you’re serious about not wanting a kid?”
“Never. How’s ‘never’ sound?”
“Amen to that.” Abruptly, V’s shitkickers made tracks around the room, and man, that pacing stuff was something to envy. “It’s not that I don’t respect Z and his little slice of nuclear. Thanks to those two females of his, he seems almost normal—which is a miracle in and of itself. So power to him, true? But that shit ain’t for me. Thank God Jane feels the same.”
“Yeah. Thank God.”
“Beth’s not on that train?”
“Nope. She’s not even in that station, that town, or that part of whatever country your metaphor lives in.”
Wrath rubbed his forehead. On the one hand, it was great to have someone agree with him about the no-young issue—it made him feel less like he was doing something wrong or being cruel to his Beth. On the other, that accord Vishous had with Jane? It wasn’t that you wished the shit you were going through on your brother. Not at all. But damn, he could have walked a marathon in those comfortable shoes, thank you very much.
As his brother paced and smoked, and they both waited for Havers to return with the knockout drops … for some reason, he thought back to his parents.
The memories that he had of his mother and father were all about the Norman Rockwell—well, dub in the Old Country language and change the stage set to a medieval castle theme. But yeah, those two had had the perfect relationship. No arguments, no anger, just love.
Nothing had ever come between them. Not his father’s job, not the court they lived in, not the citizenry they served.
Perfect harmony.
It was yet another standard set in the past that he was failing to live up to— V let out a strange sound, part gasp, part curse.
“Swallow your smoke wrong?” Wrath said dryly.
Right next to him, the chair where Havers had been sitting didn’t creak so much as curse—like V had thrown all of his weight into the thing.
“V?”