Lover Unleashed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #9)(4)

Payne’s long black braid was the precise color of V’s hair, and her skin was the same tone as his, and she was built just as he was, long, lean, and strong. But the eyes . . . shit, the eyes.

V rubbed his face. Their father, the Bloodletter, had had countless bastards before he’d been killed in a lesser skirmish back in the Old Country. But V didn’t consider any of those random females relations.

Payne was different. The two had the same mother, and it wasn’t just any mahmen dearest. It was the Scribe Virgin. The ultimate mother of the race.

Bitch that she was.

Payne’s stare shifted over and V’s breath got tight. The irises that met his were ice white, just like his own, and the navy blue rim around them was something he saw every night in the mirror. And the intelligence . . . the smarts in those arctic depths were exactly what was cooking under his bone dome, too.

“I cannot feel anything,” Payne said.

“I know.” Shaking his head, he repeated, “I know.”

Her mouth twitched like she might have smiled under other circumstances. “You may speak any language you wish,” she said in accented English. “I am fluent in . . . many.”

So was he. Which meant he was unable to form a response in sixteen different tongues. Go, him.

“Have you heard . . . from your shellan?” she said haltingly.

“No. Would you like more pain meds?” She sounded weaker than when he’d left.

“No, thank you. They make me . . . feel strange.”

This was followed by a long silence.

That only got longer.

And longer still.

Christ, maybe he should hold her hand—after all, she had sensation above the waist. Yeah, but what could he offer her in the palm department? His left one was trembling and his right one was deadly.

“Vishous, time is not . . .”

As his twin let the sentence drift, he finished in his mind, on our side.

Man, he wished she wasn’t right. When it came to spinal injuries, however, as with strokes and heart attacks, opportunities were lost with each passing minute the patient went untreated.

That human had better be as brilliant as Jane said.

“Vishous?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wish that I had not come herein?”

He frowned hard. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I want you with me.”

As his foot got tapping, he wondered how long he had to stay before he could go out for another cigarette. He just couldn’t breathe as he sat here, unable to do anything while his sister suffered, and his brain got choked with questions. He had ten thousand whats and whys sitting on the top of his head, except he couldn’t ask them. Payne was looking like she could slip into a coma at any moment from the pain, so it was hardly time to kaffeeklatsch it.

Shit, vampires might heal lightning-fast, but they were not immortals by any stretch.

He could well lose his twin from this before he even got to know her.

On that note, he gave a look-see at her vitals on the monitor. The race had low blood pressure to begin with, but hers was hovering close to ground level. Pulse was slow and uneven, like a drum section made up of white boys. And the oxygen sensor had had to be silenced because its warning alarm had been going off continuously.

As her eyes closed, he worried that it would be for the last time, and what had he done for her? All but yell at her when she’d asked him a question.

He leaned in closer, feeling like a schmuck. “You have to hold on here, Payne. I’m getting you what you need, but you’ve got to hang on.”

His twin’s lids rose and she looked at him from out of her stationary head. “I have brought too much upon your doorstep.”

“You don’t worry about me.”

“That is all I have ever done.”

V frowned again. Clearly this whole brother/sister thing was a news flash only on his end, and he had to wonder how in the hell she’d known about him.

And what she knew.

Shit, here was another chance to wish he’d been vanilla.

“You are so certain of this healer you seek,” she mumbled.

Ah, not really. The only thing he was sure of was that if the bastard killed her there was going to be a double funeral tonight—assuming there was anything left of the human to bury or burn.

“Vishous?”

“My shellan trusts him.”

Payne’s eyes drifted upward and stayed there. Was she looking at the ceiling? he wondered. The examination lamp that hung over her? Something he couldn’t see?

Eventually, she said, “Ask me how long I have spent at our mother’s beckoning.”

“You sure you have the strength for this?” When she all but glared at him, he wanted to smile. “How long.”

“What is this year for the Earth?” When he told her, her eyes widened. “Indeed. Well, it has been hundreds of years. I was imprisoned by our mahmen for . . . hundreds of years of life.”

Vishous felt the tips of his fangs tingle in rage. That mother of theirs . . . he should have known what peace he’d found with the female wouldn’t last. “You’re free now.”

“Am I.” She glanced down toward her legs. “I cannot live in another prison.”

“You won’t.”

Now that icy stare grew shrewd. “I cannot live like this. Do you understand what I’m saying.”