Free Lover Avenged by J. R. Ward

sterile on skin that hadn’t been hit with an alcohol rub. It was a slow suicide, and that was why he was damned if he was showing it to the doctor. He knew exactly what would happen if that poison got deep into his bloodstream, and he wished it would get off its ass and take over.
    The door swung open and he glanced up, ready to tango with Havers-except it wasn’t the doc. Rehv’s nurse was back, and she didn’t look happy.
    Matter of fact, she looked exhausted, like he was one more hassle in her castle and she didn’t have the energy to deal with the shit he pulled when she was around.
    “I spoke with the doctor,” she said. “He’s closing in the OR now, so it’s going to be a while. He would like me to draw some blood-”
    “I’m sorry,” Rehv blurted.
    Ehlena’s hand went up to the collar of her uniform and she pulled the two halves closer together. “Excuse me?”
    “I’m sorry for playing you. You don’t need that from a patient. Especially on a night like tonight.”
    She frowned. “I’m fine.”
    “No, you’re not. And no, I’m not reading your mind. You just seem tired.” Abruptly, he knew how she felt. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
    “Not necessary-”
    “By treating you to dinner.”
    Okay, he hadn’t meant to say that. And given that he’d just gotten all self-congratulatory on keeping his distance, he’d also made a hypocrite out of himself.
    Clearly his next tat needed to be more along the lines of a donkey.
    ’Cuz he was acting like an ass.
    In the wake of the invitation, it was entirely unsurprising that Ehlena stared at him like he was insane. Generally speaking, when a male behaved like he did, the last thing any female wanted to do was spend more time with him.
    “I’m sorry, no.” She didn’t even tack on an obligatory, I never date patients.
    “Okay. I understand.”
    While she got the blood-drawing supplies ready and snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, Rehv reached over to his suit jacket and took out his card, hiding it in his big palm.
    She was quick with the procedure, working on his good arm, filling up the aluminum vials fast. Good thing they weren’t glass and Havers did all the testing himself. Vampire blood was red. Symphath ran blue. The color of his was somewhere in between, but he and Havers had an arrangement. Granted, the doctor was unaware of how things worked between them, but it was the only way to be treated without compromising the race’s physician.
    When Ehlena was finished, she capped the vials with white plastic stoppers, snapped off the gloves, and went for the door like he was a bad smell.
    “Wait,” he said.
    “Do you want some pain meds for the arm?”
    “No, I want you to take this.” He held out his card. “And call me if you’re ever in the mood to do me a favor.”
    “At the risk of sounding unprofessional, I’m never going to be in the mood for you. Under any circumstances.”
    Ouch. Not that he blamed her. “The favor is forgiving me. Got nothing to do with a date.”
    She glanced down at the card, then shook her head. “You’d better keep that. For someone who might ever use it.”
    As the door shut, he crushed the card in his hand.
    Shit. What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? She probably had a nice little life in a tidy house with two doting parents. Maybe she had a boyfriend, too, who would someday become her hellren.
    Yeah, his being your friendly neighborhood drug lord, pimp, and enforcer really fit in with the Norman Rockwell routine. Totally.
    He tossed his card into the wastepaper basket by the desk, and watched as the rim shot circled, then dropped in amid the Kleenex and the wadded-up papers and an empty Coke can.
    As he waited for the doctor, he stared at the discarded trash, thinking that to him most of the people on the planet were just like that stuff: things to use up and throw away with no compunction whatsoever. Thanks to both his bad side and the business he was in, he’d broken a lot of