Novo saw the cane as a huge improvement. Come on, over the wheelchair? It also meant she’d skipped the walker stage.
Beating expectations was good, especially when you were in the vampire equivalent of cardiac rehab.
As she shuffled down the training center’s corridor, she was keeping her pace at a solid geriatric, her feet in their hospital-issue shower shoes scuffing along with a minimal lift from the concrete floor. Everything was quiet, the Brothers elsewhere, the trainees gone home, the clinic empty of patients except for—
The disembodied howl that traveled out from the crazy guy was like a draft in the air, invisible and chilling.
She kept on going. She had made this trip a good ten times or so, even though she was pretty sure that Dr. Manello had only said once an hour. But really, she kept this up and she would hit that rate on average—provided she went against a two-week timetable.
He just needed to be more specific.
Coming up to the double doors into the gym, she looked through the chicken-wired glass. She couldn’t wait to start sparring again.
Continuing on, she relied on the cane for balance, the wonky feeling more like an inner-ear problem than anything to do with her heart malfunctioning. They’d even sprung her of her IV, although she was wearing a Holter monitor to make sure her cardiac function was hunky-dory.
Glancing back, her room seemed like miles away. But fuck that. She went farther on. Eventually, a hundred and fifty years later, she came up to the pool’s doors.
There was someone in there.
Craving company was as unfamiliar as this physical weakness she was rocking, and certainly the latter seemed to make the former more of a thing: Before she knew better, she was pushing her way into the little ante-hall and doing her old-lady dance over the tiles.
The scent of chlorine tingled in her nose and the warmth and humidity made her think of summer nights—
Splashing. And voices.
When she realized there was more than one person in the water, she nearly turned around. Except then she saw that it was Ehlena at the edge, the nurse crouching down and encouraging somebody who was trying to swim.
“Oh, hey, Novo!” the female called out with a wave. “Come talk with us!”
Novo checked to make sure the double-johnny situation she’d jury-rigged was covering her naughty bits in the back and then she caned her way forward. The tiled ring around the Olympic-sized pool was dry, so she didn’t worry about slipping, and that heat and moisture helped ease the aches she still had in her ribs.
“Hi, Luchas,” she said to the male hanging on the edge of the pool.
“Greetings,” came the grunting reply.
His thin, deformed hands, with their missing fingers, were like claws on that lip, his frail body floating out behind him, his remaining leg churning through the water slowly.
He was so pale, and she had to look away from the hard cut of his shoulder blades under his thin skin.
“I wish I could join you,” she said as she leaned on the cane and lowered herself down into a sit.
“Not with that monitor on, I’m afraid.” Ehlena smiled. “But you’re almost home free. You should be ready to go tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.” Novo kicked off her slippers and put one foot…and then the other in. “Oh, this feels good.”
Luchas’s workout created waves in the water, and she closed her eyes so that she could concentrate on the buffering sensations against her calves and the soles of her feet.
She also didn’t want the male to feel like she was staring at him.
From what she understood, Qhuinn’s brother had been abducted during the raids, and it had been assumed that he had been killed along with the rest of the bloodline. The truth had been more gruesome. The male had been found stuffed in an oil drum, surrounded by the Omega’s blood. He’d been barely alive, and he’d had so many broken bones and missing parts, he’d been all but poured onto a gurney.
Although he’d been rescued some time ago, he had been living in the clinic ever since, not dead, but not particularly alive, either. Qhuinn always visited him, but there was no joy, no laughter, no prospects, it seemed. And for a young male that had once had a life of privilege, it was sad reality.
“Good job,” Ehlena said to him. “Now that you’re warmed up, let’s work on arms.”
“All right.”
There was some splashing, and then the nurse coached the male through various stretches and then some breaststrokes that crisscrossed the shallow end of the pool.
Luchas’s concentration was complete, as if his life depended on his ability to follow directions and perform the movements—and certainly, if he stopped swimming, he would, in fact, sink. There was no fat on him.
Although she had seen him around the training center, she had never expected to have anything in common with him. But here they both were—except she was going to get better, and there was a chance he would be forever in this neither healthy nor dying netherworld: By tomorrow night, she was going to be walking normally, and in another twenty-four hours after that, she was going to be in the weight room, goddamn it. Luchas, on the other hand? It was hard to imagine him any different than he was now.
“I think I better head back,” Novo said as she plugged her cane in and got to her feet.
“I’m glad you stopped by to see us.” Ehlena lifted a hand. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you—and I’ll talk to you later, Luchas.” Novo offered a little wave. “Take care.”
“You as well,” came the gruff reply.
The male didn’t look up, and she was glad to leave. It was hard to be around somebody as infirmed as that when you yourself were rocky. It made you wonder why you were the one who got picked to get well whereas they were on the Leave Behind list.
Considering how much it mattered, the randomness of such good fortune was the kind of thing that bent your brain.
As she reemerged into the corridor, she shivered in the relative cold, and by the time she came up to her hospital room, she was done. Like, just having run a marathon done.
Back at her bed, she hung the cane off the foot and dragged herself onto the mattress. As loneliness settled over her like a toxic cloud, she was too tired to fight it—
Her cell phone rang on the rolling table she took her meals on and she turned her head to the sound. The thing was facedown, and she had absolutely no interest in checking to see who it was. She already knew. Her mahmen and her sister were livid that the bachelorette party, or whatever the hell it was called, was happening the following evening and Novo hadn’t done shit with the preparations.
But come on. Thanks to Sophy, they had a reservation down at that place. What else did they need—oh, riiiiiiiiiiight, the goddamn sash, a crown and a scepter, feather boas.
The usual Instagrammable shit.
Yeah, ’cuz you aren’t really living life unless you can create “moments” to prove how sparkly fresh your existence is.
Throwing out a hand, she grabbed the phone and flipped it over—
Novo sat up as she accepted the call. “You again.”
Yet her tone was far from hostile. In fact, there was a plaintive quality in there that she really needed to kick in the ass.
Peyton’s voice was muffled. “Hi.”
In the background, there was all kinds of noise. He was at a club. Of course.
Except he was calling her. “What are you doing, big spender?” she drawled.
Better, she thought. Yes, that was how she wanted to sound. More like her old self—her regular self, she amended.
“Oh, you know, same night, same drill.”
“So why aren’t you fucking some random in the back room?”
“I had the option.”
“And you passed? Not feeling well, are we?”
“What are you doing?”
“Laps up and down the corridor. Then I’m going to play around with some particle physics, bench-press a Prius or two, and read the collective works of Shakespeare. So yeah, busy night for me.”
His laughter sounded good, so good. “You up for a visitor?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
She looked around the mostly barren room. “I don’t know,” she said softly.
“I’m lonely.”
“You’re out with those guys, right? The matched set of douche canoes.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
She moved her phone to her other ear. “And you’re surrounded by human women, right? The hot ones who have throat muscles that go lax on command and enough silicon implanted in them that they could qualify as an inert molecule?”
“Pretty much.”
“So why are you on my phone?”
“Because I’d rather be with you.”
Novo closed her eyes. “That fight with your father really must run deep, huh.”
“This is not about him.”
“You sure about that? ’Cuz I’m not.”
“So what do you say. And this is not about sex.”
“Good. Because I’m walking with a cane and I feel about as sexy as a toaster oven.”
“Okay, quick side note on that. Toaster ovens are hot. I mean, that’s their purpose. That’s how you warm up pizza and how Hot Pockets get their name. Without toaster ovens, they’d be Room Temperature Pockets, and who needs that.”
Novo started laughing. “You’re a freak.”
“My point is, if you’re trying to say you’re not feeling sexy, go with a different metaphor. Like…I feel about as sexy as a bottle of Tums. Now, they put out heartburn so—”
“Shut the fuck up and call for the bus.”
As she hung up, she was smiling. And then, for absolutely, positively, no reason whatsoever…she went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and re-braided her hair.
It took a good hour for Peyton to get to the training center, and when he finally got off the transport, he found himself nearly running down to Novo’s room. As he came up to her door, he smoothed his hair and made sure that his suit was properly buttoned.
Opening the way in, he stopped.
She was sound asleep, her head cocked to one side as if she had been trying to stay awake for him. The IV was out of her arm, he noted, and short of some wires on her chest that were hooked up to a tiny receiver thingy, all of the monitoring equipment was gone.
He let the door close silently on its own and kicked his loafers free so he made no sound at all in his socks. Halfway to the bed, he peeled off his jacket. Right next to her, he removed his belt, untucked the tails of his button-down, and popped out both cuff links.
“It’s me,” he said as he carefully lay down with her.
Novo muttered something in her sleep. Then she turned to him and nestled in close, her body fitting perfectly with his, her scent flooding his nose, a grand sense of peace settling in.
He willed the lights to dim and shut his eyes.
The quiet hum of the heating system overhead was the most perfect white noise on the planet. And the deep sigh of relaxation Novo let out made him feel a hundred feet tall and strong as an ox.
“You came,” she said into his chest.
“You’re awake.”
Novo lifted her head. Her eyes were so languid and sleepy, her thick lashes nearly on her cheekbones. And the flush on her cheeks was because she was warm from sleep.
“Yes, I came.” He brushed a strand of hair back. “You look amazing.”
“Are you kidding me.”
“No. Never.”
Later, he would have to wonder who kissed who first. Was it him, pressing his mouth to hers? Was it her, dropping her lips to his? Maybe they met in the middle.
That was probably it.
Slow, so very slow. Soft. Gentle.
“Come under the covers with me,” she whispered.
“With or without my clothes,” he asked.
There was a pause. “Without.”
His heart began to pound as he sat up, and before things went further, he willed the door lock into place. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and let it fall where it did. Peeled his socks. Hopped off the bed, released the waistband of his slacks, and unzipped them. His cock was fully erect, and he tucked it up onto his lower abdomen and held it in place as he turned back around.
Novo was letting her hospital johnny drop to the floor.
For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. She was amazing, her golden skin glowing against the white sheets and blankets, her taut, tight-nippled breasts, the curve of her waist and her stomach.
“Will you help me get this off?”
Get what off? he wondered. “Oh, the wires. Sorry.”
“Just unclip these things from the pads.”
He eyed the sensors that provided the data feed to the heart monitor. “Are you sure we should?”
“I’m allowed to take them off when I shower. It’s fine. And Dr. Manello said this is out of an abundance of caution anyway. Come into the bed first.”
With a shaking he couldn’t hide, Peyton slid into the warm spot her body had created. And he did what he could to keep his hips back, even though there wasn’t a lot of room—it seemed rude to be rubbing all up on her while she was unclipping the—
Her nipples were small and pink and very perfect.
And though he meant to help her with the wires, instead, his fingertips sought out one of her breasts, drifting across her smooth skin. She gasped as he touched the tip.
“I have to taste you,” he said hoarsely.
In response, Novo arched, offering him exactly what he wanted and oh, God…he covered that tip with his mouth, sucking, licking. Her fingers dug into his hair and urged him on—and that scent. Her arousal made his head short out.
Yet he held back.
Impatient and starved, he kept himself in check nonetheless.
And when his stroking hand got tangled in a wire, she pushed his shoulders back. “Let me—hold on, there’s one left.”
Novo did away with the final lead, and then she smiled in a lopsided way. “Try and ignore the pads.”
He stared into her eyes. “I only see you. Trust me.”
Dropping his head down again, he nuzzled his way across her sternum and paused to kiss where her heart was. After a silent prayer of thanks, he continued on to her other nipple, running his tongue around it before taking it into his mouth.
Beneath the covers, his hand caressed her hip and stroked her thigh. She was muscle and sinew, so strong, so powerful, and holy shit, that was fucking hot. And even though he wanted his cock in her, he took his time, petting her, getting her more and more hot, until she was sawing her legs across the mattress, her breath was coming in an urgent beat, and her spine was undulating as her pelvis rolled in frustration.
It was only then that he licked and nibbled his way up to her collarbone, her throat…her lips. Delving into her mouth, he swept his palm down the inside of her leg, heading for her heat.
“Yes,” she said into his kiss. “Oh, God…yes.”
Her slick sex, so open and ready, nearly made him orgasm. But this was about her. Holding himself back once again, he penetrated her and found a rhythm, helping her along with his thumb. When she found her release, he swallowed her moans.
“I want you in me,” she demanded.
As her hand found his erection, she did not have to ask twice. He rolled on top of her, finding a home as she split her thighs to make room for him. And then he retracted his hips, angled his arousal…
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as his head entered her.
He slid deep, so fucking deep. And she was tight, like a fist. And she was hot, like raw fire. It was as he had known it to be from before, except so much better. Because she was with him now, hungry as he was.
He pulled back, all the way back, and slid in again. And back. And in.
His lower body wanted to pump like a piston, but he kept the penetrations slow and steady. Beneath him, she was a live wire of impatience, and she even sunk her nails into his ass to get him to go faster.
He refused.
And he was glad he did.
Because when she came again, he was able to be aware of every pulse, the contractions working his cock—
The orgasm tackled him from behind, hitting him and his will like a ton of bricks, taking him down a rabbit hole of pleasure from which he could not escape.
He’d wanted to last longer. But as he filled her up, and dropped his head into the fragrant nest of her throat, he couldn’t say he regretted a thing.
How could he.
He’d never had anything or anyone so good before.