Instead of functioning as a surrogate set of eyeballs.

A sudden murmuring in the waiting area was a sure sign they’d walked into a public place. And the reception at Reception was likewise electric.

“My lord,” some female said, as a squeak broke out like a chair had been shoved back. “This way. Please.”

Wrath turned his head to the voice and nodded. “Thanks for fitting us in.”

“Of course, my lord. It is a rare honor to have your presence in our…”

Blah, blah, blah.

The good news was that he was fast-tracked to a private area with minimal interruption. And then it was a case of waiting. It wouldn’t be for long, though. He was willing to bet Havers would put his running shoes on to get to wherever they were.

Not that that tight-ass pussy would know what Nikes were necessarily.

“Do, like, all hospitals have to have Monets in them?” Vishous groused.

“Guess the posters come cheap.”

“This is an actual painting.”

Oh. Yeah. Clearly, they were in a VIP suite. “Leave it to Havers—a cliché even while at Sotheby’s.”

“He probably brought it over from the Old Country. Tasteless fool. Once you’ve seen a fucking water lily, you’ve seen them all. And I hate pink. I really hate pink. Although lavender is worse.”

As Wrath put his hands out to feel around, he thought of the Impressionist paintings he’d seen back when his eyesight had worked a little. Talk about blurred vision—nothing like a half-blind painter’s smudgey art being viewed by a half-blind ass-hat.

Surrealists with their razor-sharp edges had been much better if he’d wanted to—

Wow. His brain really didn’t want to think about why they were here.

“There’s an examination table directly in front of you.”

“I’m not getting examined,” Wrath muttered.

“Fine, someone’s grandmother’s silk sofa is to your right.”

As he rerouted and took the couch route, he thought of how much he loved having his own in-house docs. Too bad Doc Jane and Manny couldn’t answer his questions in this case. And yeah, he supposed he could have gotten the information another way—like have Fritz come here and ask things. But sometimes firsthand was the only way to go: He wanted to catch the scent of the physician when the male spoke. It was the only way to be sure it was the truth.

“You going to tell me what this is about,” V demanded.

A flicking sound was followed by a scratch, and a moment later, the scent of Turkish tobacco did away with most, if not all, of the bleachy ferment of oh, so many Lysol moppings.

When Wrath didn’t say shit, V cursed. “You know, Jane can do this, whatever it is.”

“She know about vampire needings? No? Didn’t think so.”

That shut the brother up for a minute.

In the silence, Wrath had an overwhelming need to pace—but that was a no-go, assuming he didn’t want to run over all of Havers’s fancy furniture.

“Talk to me.”

Wrath shook his head. “Got nothing good to say.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before, true?”

Fortunately, Havers picked that moment to come in—only to immediately stop short just inside the exam room.

“Forgive me…” he said to Vishous. “But there is no smoking here.”

V’s tone was bored. “Our species doesn’t get cancer—or is that a newsflash to you.”

“It’s because of the oxygen tanks.”

“Is there one in here?”

“Ah … no.”

“Well, then I won’t go looking for one.”

Wrath cut off any further debate. “Will you shut the door.” You fucking idiot. “I just have to ask you a couple of questions. And tell your nurse to leave, would you.”

“Of … course.”

Fear spiked the air as the nurse departed and the door was shut, and Wrath didn’t blame the guy for being nervous.

“How may I be of service, my lord?”

Wrath pictured the male from memory, imaging that Havers still had those glasses on his Ivy League–looking face, and that white coat with his name stitched next to the lapel. As if there might be some confusion around his clinic as to who he was.

“I want to know what you can do to stop a female’s needing.”

Crickets. Whole lot of crickets.

Well, except for V muttering something that probably started with F and ended in U-C-K.

After a moment, there was a creak, as if the good doctor had sat down next to Wrath’s sofa. “I, ah, I am unsure how to answer that, my lord.”

“Give it a shot,” Wrath said dryly. “And quick. I don’t have all night.”

Quiet sounds suggested the male was fiddling with things. A pen? Maybe a stethoscope? “Has she … has the, ah, female … has it commenced?”

“No.”

The silence that followed made him wish he hadn’t come here. He wasn’t walking out now, though, and not just because he’d lost track of where the door was already. “It’s not my shellan, by the way. It’s a friend of mine.”

Jesus Christ, like he had an STD or some shit.

But at least that loosened up the doctor. Instantly, the male’s vibe calmed and his mouth got to flapping. “I have no good answer for you, unfortunately. Thus far, I have found no way to halt the time’s commencement. I have tried various drugs, even those available on the human market—the issue is that vampire females have an extra hormone that, when triggered, creates an overwhelming, system-wide response. As a result, human contraceptive pills or shots don’t have any effect on our females.”

Wrath shook his head. He should have known—nothing about the reproductive cycle of a female vampire was easy.

Dumb-ass Scribe Virgin. Oh, sure, go ahead and create a race of people—and while you’re at it, why don’t you saddle them with some really tough shit. Perfect.

Havers continued, his seat creaking again as if he were changing positions. “Easing the female during her suffering is the only method I’ve had success with. Would you require a kit for your associate, my lord?”

“Kit, as in…”

“For treatment of the needing.”

He thought of Beth sitting in that room with Layla. God only knew how long that had been going on—but more to the point, he was afraid it had worked: He’d totally gotten sprung in his shellan’s presence. And yeah, that was not unusual, except for the fact that they’d been arguing and sex had been the last fucking thing on his mind.

Her hormones might well be in flux already.

Either that or he was paranoid.

Also a possibility.

“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I want one.”

There was the sound of something being written down. “Now, I will need the male in charge of her to sign for this, either her hellren, her father, or the oldest male of her household. I don’t feel comfortable sending these levels of narcotics out into the world unaccounted for—and of course, there will have to be someone there to administer them to her. Not only will she in all likelihood be compromised by the needing, but let us be honest. Females don’t have the best heads for these things anyway.”

For some reason, Wrath thought of Payne accusing him of being a misogynist.

At least Havers totally lapped him on that one—

Oh shit, how was he going to sign anything? Back home at his desk, Saxton always marked the signature line with a series of raised—

“I’ll sign for it,” V interjected sharply. “And my shellan, who’s a doctor just like you, will take care of everything else.”

“You are mated?” the physician sputtered. As if there were a greater chance of a meteor dropping on his clinic. “I mean—”

“Give me the paper,” Vishous said. “And your pen.”

Cue more scribbling in an even more awkward silence.

“What is her weight?” Havers asked, as there was a shuffling like he was putting something in a file.

“I don’t know,” Wrath said.

“Would you like me to see the female in question, my lord? She may come here at any time that is convenient, or I could provide a home visit—”