The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(77)

Assail was not happy about his empty holsters, but Rehv had made it clear: Either he and his cousins went in unarmed, or the human female was not going to be treated.

It was the only circumstance in which Assail would have consented to be vulnerable and he hated it. But needs must.

“And her name is Marisol,” he heard himself say as the blond, female doctor began to speak in low tones. “Sola.”

From over on the left, he could feel Rehv staring at him, and the Council’s leahdyre wasn’t the only one. The three Brothers on guard duty were too professional to show anything, but he could tell they were wondering why he’d turned up on their doorstep with a human woman. Who was injured. Whom he was willing to give his guns over for.

“No, you stay there, Marisol. We’ll come around to the other side.” The female doctor eased out and nodded to her team. “Vitals are low but stable. Gunshot wound to right thigh. Possible concussion. Shock’s a concern. May have suffered other trauma she doesn’t want to tell me about.”

Assail felt the blood leave his head, but he didn’t allow the inclination to pass out any further leeway—

“You,” he called out sharply. “Stay back.”

The male—or, God, was that actually a human man?—stopped short.

The main doctor, the female, spoke up. “This is my partner. Dr. Manello. He’s—”

“Not to treat her.” Assail bared his fangs. “She is unclothed from the waist down.”

He was vaguely aware that everyone had frozen and looked his way. Was also aware of a scent that had suddenly entered the scene. He lingered on neither as he stared that man down, prepared to lunge at his throat if he continued around the back of the Rover.

The guy put his hands up as if he were faced with a gun. “Okay, okay. Let’s relax. You want me out, I’m out.”

Backing up, he stood with the Brothers, shaking his head, but saying nothing.

The female doctor put her hand on Assail’s forearm. “We’re just going to get her on the gurney. Why don’t you come around with me. You can watch and stay close.”

Assail eased off on his growl and cleared his throat. “I shall do that. Thank you.”

Actually, he did more.

When the doctor opened Marisol’s door, he hated the way his woman shrank back before she could catch herself. And then her eyes locked on his.

“Would you like me to help you out?” he asked roughly before any of the medical staff could move in.

“Yes. Please.”

It felt so right to push everyone away and be the male who cared for her: Reaching into the SUV’s interior, he scooped her into his arms, being careful to take the sleeping bag along with so that she was not exposed—

The hiss she tried to hold in made him nauseous, but he had to get her out—and once he straightened, she seemed to find an accommodation in his arms that didn’t cause her too much discomfort.

Her head fell against his shoulder and stayed there.

“I shall carry her in,” he informed the doctor.

“It’s probably better to—ah, okay, all right.” The blond healer put her hands up as his fangs flashed again. “That’s fine. Just follow me.”

The Brother Rhage was the first into the corridor, and the other two warriors hung back, bringing up the rear along with the cousins.

Assail walked as smoothly as he could, each stiffening of Marisol’s limbs or sharp inhale communicating her pain directly into his own chest until it was his lungs burning, his breath catching, his leg that ached.

Going along, they passed by a seemingly endless number of rooms, some of which he looked into, most of which he didn’t bother turning his head for. From what little he noticed, there were classrooms, an office that was empty … something that looked like an interrogation room. Just as he was becoming convinced they were heading for another zip code, the female doctor finally stopped and indicated the way into an examination room.

The gurney in the center was directly underneath a hanging set of lights, and as he went over and began to transfer Marisol onto the sheeted, padded surface, he was glad the healer didn’t turn the chandelier on. It seemed far too bright already in the tiled room, the stainless-steel and glass cabinetry glinting at him, the rolling table with its instruments a threat even though those tools were supposed to help in the right hands.

Dearest Virgin in the Fade, Sola’s face was gray from pain and exhaustion as she sat there, her knees up tight to her chest, that navy blue sleeping bag wrapped tight as a second skin around her.

“I’m going to ask all nonessentials to stay out in the hall,” the doctor said, shooing the Brothers, the cousins, and that male healer out. “No, nope—we’ll be fine. Right, bye-bye.” Then in a lower tone, she hissed, “He’s a bonded male. You want to deal with that if I have to do an internal exam on her?”

Bonded … male? Him?

As the Brothers began to argue with her, Assail nodded grimly at the warriors and Rehvenge. “There shall be no problems from me. You have my word.”

Except then he wondered if Marisol’s privacy didn’t also deserve protecting from the likes of him.

“Marisol,” he said softly. “Mayhap it would be best if I—”

“Stay.”

He closed his eyes. “All right.”