Page 91 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

Her smile is shy as she murmurs, “I guess that means I did good?”

I look down at the ring, the spot it’s nestled in a symbol to me of my love and commitment to this woman. “You did more than okay. You move me.” I brush my hand over her cheek, the flush creeping over her skin even more endearing. “I guess this means I’m married now, huh?”

Her laugh is soft and tinkling. “It might be a good thing since you might have already knocked me up. That means I don’t have to get the shotgun out.”

“I don’t think it would take quite that much, love.”

“I’m only kidding. I don’t even own a shotgun. If I did, I probably wouldn’t point it at you.”

I snort. “That’s very comforting, wife.”

“Isn’t it?” She grins and leans over to peck me.

I open my mouth to retort and the doorbell rings, causing both of us to freeze in place. “That death knell isn’t as funny right now as when I had it installed,” I mutter.

She gives me a knowing look and I see that I’ve made her point nicely and once again, she’s won an argument by letting me talk myself into losing.

Damn, I love this woman.

The Doctor Is In

TAURUS

“The doc is here.”

Sandwich nods at me. Excitement and trepidation flashes over her face. I understand the emotions; I’d wager my expression is the same.

She sits up and tosses the licorice wrapper into the trash bin next to the bed. True to form, she fusses about for a moment. Straightening her shirt and sliding under the comforter, she nods when she feels prepared to receive our guest. Taking a deep breath, she nods again. “Okay, go let him in.”

I lean over to kiss her before I shove off the bed. Loping out of the room, I take the main staircase to the first floor to find the git. I can’t say that I give the doc more than a once over when I yank open the door. I notice the lab coat and the spectacles and not much else because he’s not worth the effort. Reaching out to grab his arm, I drag him inside with no ceremony and even less greeting.

My eyes clock him as we cross the foyer. He’s a small sort—like most of his ilk at the Company—and I’d throw him back for growing if I were hunting. As I’m not hunting, I tighten my grip on his arm and propel him down the hallway to the stairs. Witha combination of pulling and pushing, I get him to the third floor and into the master bedroom.

As we approach, my mate unbuttons one sleeve of my shirt and rolls it up to her upper bicep, then looks up. She smiles at me—that same beaming smile that sets my pulse pounding—before giving the doc an expectant glance.

I reach out to her through our connection and give her heart a gentle caress, reminding her how much I love her. I know she has to be as nervous as I am.

“Love, this is Doctor...” I turn to look at the diminutive little sod and realize I do not know what his name is and I don’t care. “Actually, who cares what you’re called? This is my woman, doc. You hurt her; you die. You disappoint us; you die. You annoy me; you die. There’s a general death theme tonight that you should know.” I tower over the man and he looks up at me as if he’s ready to wet his pants. Pointing at my love, I glower at him. “You know what to do. Do it.”

He quivers.

I cross my arms over my chest, rather satisfied with myself. At least, I am right until she gives me a dirty look.

Chiding me, she murmurs,~No need to be rude, love. ~

Rude? I’m not being rude.

I’m making sure the doc knows what’ll happen if he toes over the line, that’s all. I’m looking out for her. It’s not even like I’m fanged out. I sigh as she shakes her head at me and then holds her arm out for him.

“I’m ready,” she tells the wimpy little prat. “I guess I should let you collect it the normal way. It will be less messy.” Exposing the crook of her elbow for him to do a tourniquet, she watches the doc ready the needle and tube. He gets her all tied up with that rubber band of torture and she winces. It’s a good thing that I’m watching him like a lion watches a sodding zebra because I notice his hands right off. That twitchy little rodent is movingthat needle closer and closer to her arm while his hands are shaking like he has a palsy.

Oh, bloody hell, no. She’s afraid of needles.

I can tell she’s being a brave soldier right now, but if he stabs her over and over, she’ll freak out. I’ve killed people for less than making a tear fall from her eye.

Moving fast, I grab his wrist and squeeze, grinding cartilage and tendon until he yelps in pain and drops the needle. I catch it by the tube with my free hand and snarl low in my throat as my fangs drop. Glaring at him with golden, demonic eyes, I growl low. “Get it together, you prat. I’ll forget my manners and gut you right here if you don’t. Don’t so much as breathe the same air as her until you’ve got it under control. Hear me?”

“I’m fine, baby,” she breathes.

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