Lover Unleashed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #9)(59)

At first, Payne was not sure exactly what the image was. . . . It was moving; that was for certain. And it appeared to be—Wait. That was a human, and he was sitting in some kind of contraption that rolled o’er the ground. To ambulate, he pumped with his great arms, his face in a grimace, his concentration as fierce as any warrior’s would be in the height of battle.

Behind him, there was a field of three other men in similar mechanicals, and they were all fixated on him as if trying to close the e’er-widening distance betwixt them and their leader.

“Is it . . . a race?” she asked.

“That’s the Boston Marathon, wheelchair division. Paul’s coming up Heartbreak Hill, which is the hardest part.”

“He’s ahead of the others.”

“Wait for it—he’s only getting started. He didn’t just win that race.... He snapped it in half on his knee and lit it on fire.”

They watched the man win by a tremendous margin, his huge arms going like the wind, his chest pumping, the crowd on either side of the road roaring in support. As he broke through a ribbon, a stunning woman ran up and the pair embraced.

And in the human female’s arms? A babe with the same coloring as the man.

Payne’s healer leaned forward and moved a little black instrument around on the desk to change the picture on the screen. Gone was the moving image. . . . In its place was a static portrait of the man smiling. He was very handsome and glowed with health, and by his side were the same red-haired woman and that young with his blue eyes.

The man was still sitting down, and the chair he was on was more substantial than that which he had competed in—in fact it was much like the one Jane had brought in. His legs were out of proportion to the rest of him, small and tucked away beneath the seat, but you didn’t notice that—or even his rolling apparatus. You only saw the fierce strength and intelligence.

Payne reached out to the screen and touched the face of the man. “How long . . . ?” she asked hoarsely.

“Has he been paralyzed? About ten years or so. He was on his touring bike when he was hit by a drunk driver. I did seven operations on his back.”

“He is still in the . . . chair.”

“You see that woman next to him?”

“Yes.”

“She fell in love with him after the accident.”

Payne whipped her head around and stared up into her healer’s face. “He . . . sired young?”

“Yup. He can drive a car . . . he can have sex, obviously . . . and he lives a fuller life than most people who have two working legs. He’s an entrepreneur and an athlete and a hell of a man, and I’m proud to call him friend.”

As he spoke, her healer moved that black thing around and the pictures changed. There were ones of the man in other athletic contests, and then smiling by some kind of large building construction, and then with him seated before a red ribbon with a big pair of golden scissors in his hand.

“Paul is the mayor of Caldwell.” Her healer gently turned her face back to his. “Listen to me . . . and I want you to remember this. Your legs are part of you, but not all of you or what you are. So wherever we go after tonight, I need you to know that you are no less for the injury. Even if you are in a chair, you still stand as tall as you ever did. Height is just a vertical number—it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to your character or the kind of life you live.”

He was dead serious, and if she were to be truthful with herself, she fell a little in love with him in that moment.

“Can you move the . . . that thing?” she whispered. “So that I may see more?”

“Here—you work the mouse.” He took her hand and placed it on the warm, oblong scooter. “Left and right . . . up and down . . . See? It shifts the arrow on the screen. Click this when you want to see something.”

It took her a couple of tries, but then she got the knack of it . . . and it was absurd, but just making her way around the different areas on the screen and choosing what she wanted to look at gave her a dizzy sense of energy.

“I can do this,” she said. Except then she got embarrassed. Considering how simple it was, it was too small a victory to crow over.

“That’s the point,” her healer said in her ear. “You can do anything.”

She shivered at that. Or likely it was because of more than merely his words.

Refocusing on the computer, she liked the pictures of the man in the races best. His expression of agonized effort and indomitable willpower was something she had long felt burning in her own chest. But then the one of the family together was also among her favorites. They were humans, but the bonds seemed so strong between them. There was love, such love there.

“What do you say?” her healer murmured.

“I think you came at the perfect time. That’s what I say.”

She shifted in his strong arms and stared up at him. As she sat in his lap, she wished she could feel more of him. All of him. But from the waist down there was only a nonspecific warmth, one that was better than the chill that had persisted since the operation, yes . . . but there was so much more to be had.

“Healer . . .” she whispered, her eyes going to his mouth.

His lids lowered and he seemed to stop breathing. “Yeah . . . ?”

“May I . . .” She licked her lips. “May I kiss you?”