“I’d offer you a seat but I get the impression that you’d rather stand, so I won’t.”
“Wrong again,” Zane answered and let himself fall onto the ghastly coffin-couch, propping his feet up on one of the wooden panels that served as an armrest. Sure, he would have preferred to stand, but he wasn’t going to give that asshole one inch. In five minutes, he would be done proving that Drake was incompetent. And to top it off, he’d have Drake agree with him.
“Nice furniture,” he lied. He’d throw the doctor so far off his track by feeding him wrong answers, he’d be heading for China next.
A raised eyebrow indicated that Drake was onto his deceptive tactics. “Your boss warned me that you had peculiar tastes.”
Zane kept his face impassive even though a storm was raging inside him. “I doubt he sent me here so you could discuss my peculiar tastes with me. What do you want, Drake?” He crossed his ankles, affecting a relaxed pose.
“That’s entirely up to you.”
“Don’t give me this line. We both know it’s not true. You were given specific instructions by Samson as to what he wanted me to talk about.” Remaining as calm as he could, he continued, “So let’s just cut to it: I killed that asshole. Did I enjoy it? Immensely. Do I have any regrets? No. Remorse? No. Second thoughts? Hell no.”
Zane dropped his feet to the floor. “And now that that’s out of the way, go ahead and charge Samson the full hour and take the rest of the time off.” He rose.
The doctor clapped, slowly and deliberately.
Zane shot him an icy look.
“Fabulous, excellent! I love a good performance as much as the next vampire. Have you ever thought of becoming an actor?”
“Piss off!”
“No, honestly.” Drake rose and rounded his desk. “I see a lot of talent there.”
Zane narrowed his eyes at the doctor’s obvious sarcastic remark. “We’re done here.”
“Not so hasty. As you’re probably aware I am to report to Samson if you miss any of your sessions or if you leave early.” He gave his wristwatch a deliberate glance. “You’ve been here just five minutes. That’s indeed a record.” Then he looked back at Zane. “This is not speed dating.”
Zane clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Fine, the doctor required him to stay the full hour? He could do that. “As you wish,” he pressed out.
He lay down on the coffin-couch, stuffed one of the pillows under his head and closed his eyes. “Wake me in fifty-five minutes.”
There was silence in the room. Zane started counting. One minute passed and another one. Then the laughter of the psychiatrist echoed through the room. Zane’s eyes shot open, pinning the man with a furious glare.
“And there your colleagues keep telling me you don’t have a sense of humor,” Drake claimed.
“You’re annoying as hell.” Almost as annoying as Portia could be.
Fuck, he wasn’t going to think about her and what had happened less than an hour earlier. Nor wonder about what could have happened had they not been interrupted. Damn it, he wasn’t going to fuck a virgin. Hell, she shouldn’t still be a virgin. It was all wrong.
“What do you know about hybrids?” The question was out before Zane even knew he was going to ask it.
“I suppose you’re not talking about cars.”
Zane shot him a get-real look.
“You’re not the only one with a sense of humor,” Drake chuckled.
Zane rolled his eyes. God damn it, why did Drake have to be the only psychiatrist in the city? Well, the only vampire-psychiatrist anyway.
“Hybrids are the product of a male vampire and his blood-bonded human mate, or, in other cases, the children of hybrids.”
With an impatient jerk, Zane sat up. “Even I know that much.”
“Then maybe you’d like to rephrase your question and be a bit more specific about what you want to know.” The doctor sat down in the armchair opposite the coffin-couch.
Zane shifted on his seat. Heck, maybe he should forget the whole thing. It wasn’t his business. It would be smarter to stay out of it. But his damn mouth had its own motor. “Is there a reason why a parent wouldn’t want a hybrid female to lose her virginity before her body attained its final form?”
“What?”
“I thought you weren’t deaf!”
“Oh, I heard you loud and clear. I’m simply stunned by your question.”
“Well?”
Drake steepled his fingers. “I’m assuming you refer to the fact that her hymen will still be in place at her final turning?” He acknowledged Zane’s nod before he continued, “Frankly, it makes no sense. Only a masochist would do that to somebody. How old is the hybrid in question?”