Rubbing her temples, she muttered, “You are both right—just for the wrong reasons. You and I could never last, because I am not a good match for any male.”
“What?”
Tired of everything . . . of him and her brother, of herself, of females and males in general . . . she waved him off and turned away. “You say this is my world? You have that so very wrong. I do not belong here any more than you do.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Verily, he might as well get the true picture of things on his way out. What the hell.
She stared over her shoulder. “I am the daughter of a god, Manuel. A deity. That glow you call forth from me? It is her very essence as an entity. That is what she is. As for my father? He was nothing but a sadistic bastard who imparted unto me the urge to kill—that was his ‘gift.’ And do you want to know what I did with it? Do you?” She was aware that her voice was rising but was singularly disinclined to quiet herself. “I killed him, Manuel. And for that crime against mine bloodline, for that offense against the standards of behavior for females, I was imprisoned and held for centuries. So you are too right. Go—and do it now. It is for the best. But do not think that I fit in here any better than you do.”
With another curse, she pushed past him and strode out into the corridor, figuring Manuel would find himself freed very shortly—
“It was your brother. Wasn’t it.”
The calm, low words echoed down the barren hallway, stopping not just her feet, but her heart.
“I saw the condition he’s in,” Manuel said in a deep voice. “Any chance your father did that to the guy?”
Payne slowly turned back around. Standing in the middle of the corridor, her healer was showing neither shock nor horror, just an intelligence she was coming to expect from him.
“Why would you think that,” she said in a dead tone.
“When I operated on him, I saw the scars, and it’s pretty clear someone tried to castrate him. Extrapolating? From my limited interaction with him, I’d say he’s way too touchy and aggressive for anyone to get the better of him. So it was either a gang of people or somebody who got him when he was really, profoundly vulnerable. I’m thinking the latter is more likely because . . . well, let’s just say I’d be surprised if abusive parents didn’t happen for your kind, too.”
Payne swallowed hard, and it was a long, long while before she could find her voice. “Our father . . . had him held down. A blacksmith was ordered to tattoo him . . . and then get a pair of pliers.”
Manuel squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “I’m sorry. I’m really . . . damned sorry.”
“Our father was chosen as a sire for his aggression and ruthlessness, and my brother was given over to him when he was very young—whereas I stayed up at the Sanctuary with our mahmen. With naught to pass my time, I watched what transpired down here on Earth in the seeing bowls and . . . over the course of years in the war camp, my brother was abused. I brought this to my mother time and time again, but she insisted upon adhering to the deal she had made with the Bloodletter.” She curled her hands into tight fists. “That male, that forsaken, sadistic male . . . he was not capable of siring sons, but she guaranteed him one so he would agree to mate with her. Three years after we were born, she relinquished Vishous unto our father’s cruelty whilst she did her best to force me into a mold I would ne’er fit into. And then that last episode where Vishous was . . .” Tears speared into her eyes. “No more—not any longer could I do nothing. I came down here and . . . and I hunted the Bloodletter down. I held him to the ground whilst I burned him into ash. And I do not regret it.”
“Who put you in jail?”
“My mother. But the imprisonment was only partially because he was dead. Sometimes I believe it was more her colossal disappointment in me.” She wiped her face quickly and rubbed the wetness away. “But enough of this. Enough of . . . all of it. Go now . . . I shall speak to the king and send you off. Good-bye, Manuel.”
Rather than waiting for him to respond, she headed off once more—
“Yes, I want you.”
Payne stopped, and then looked over her shoulder again. After a moment, she said, “You are a fine healer and you have done your job, as you so aptly pointed out. We have no further cause to speak.”
When she resumed walking, his footsteps approached fast and he caught her, wheeling her around. “If I didn’t keep my pants on, I couldn’t have kept myself out of you.”
“Really.”
“Give me your hand.”
Without looking, she held one unto him. “Why ever for—”
He moved fast, putting her palm between his legs, and pressing her into the hot, hard length at his hips. “You’re right.” He moved against her, his pelvis undulating, the arousal pushing against her palm as he started to breathe deeply. “Even as I tried to tell myself otherwise, I knew that if I got naked, you were going to stay a virgin only long enough for me to get you on your back. Not romantic, but really, totally fucking true.”
As her lips parted, his eyes dropped to her mouth and he growled, “You can feel the truth, can’t you. It’s in your goddamn hand.”
“Do you not care about what I did . . .”
“You mean with your father?” He stopped the rubbing and frowned. “No. To be clear, I’m a lex talionis kind of guy. Your brother could easily have died from those wounds—I don’t care how fast you people heal. But more to the point, I’m willing to bet that father/son bonding moment fucked his head up for the rest of his life—so yeah, I don’t have a problem with what you did.”
Retaliatory justice, she thought as his words sank in.