Zane stiffened. “It was a hypothetical question, doc.”
Drake frowned. “How old is your hypothetical hybrid?”
“A few weeks short of her twenty-first birthday.”
“I suggest that you take her mother aside and inform her of the implications.”
“Her mother is dead.”
“Her father then.”
“He keeps her practically imprisoned so she won’t meet any men.”
“So you think this is deliberate?”
“What else can it be?” The instructions Scanguards had received from Portia’s father had been crystal clear: keep her away from boys.
Drake contemplated the question. “Why is it that you’re so interested in this hybrid?”
Zane jumped to his feet. “I’m not interested.” Ah, hell, not even he believed that crock of shit.
“Hmm. Could have fooled me.”
Zane ignored Drake’s comment as another thought crossed his mind. “Can’t a hymen be removed by other means than sex?”
“No”
Zane blinked. Was he really sitting in the psychiatrist’s office discussing sex organs with him? He must have gone off the deep end without noticing.
“But ... I’ve heard that even in humans a hymen can easily be broken by vigorous physical activity. So couldn’t she have already torn her hymen herself?” He’d seen her jump out of the window and run like she was being chased by a pack of wolves. Wasn’t that considered vigorous physical activity?
Drake raised an eyebrow.
“So I watch the Discovery Channel. Sue me!” Zane scoffed.
Drake cleared his throat. “To get back to your question, sadly, the answer is ‘no’. A hybrid’s hymen isn’t susceptible to such permanent injury. Yes, it can be torn, but it will repair itself during her restorative sleep. Not even finger-fucking her, excuse the crude words, would rip it permanently. Only full intercourse assures that the hymen is destroyed and won’t repair itself.”
Drake moved forward on his chair. “It takes a flesh and blood penis and live semen to dissolve the hymen in its entirety. There is no other way. I guess, somehow our creator wanted to make sure we continued procreating.” He shrugged. “What do I know?”
Zane swallowed. “So that leaves sex.”
Sweaty, passionate, heart-stopping sex with Portia.
Chapter Fourteen
After leaving Drake’s office, Zane rode back to Portia’s house on the back of Eddie’s motorcycle, still contemplating the doctor’s words and not at all in the mood to talk. Luckily, when he reached the house, Thomas informed him that Portia had gone to bed. At least he wouldn’t have to face her right now when he was too conflicted about what to do next.
He was glad when Oliver showed up shortly before sunrise to relieve him.
“Can you come an hour and a half before sunrise tomorrow?” Zane asked the human.
“What for?”
“I have to see Samson about something.”
“Sure. Not a problem.”
“Thanks, buddy.” He slapped Oliver on the shoulder and stalked out into the dark.
On the way home, Zane fed off a street person he found sleeping in a doorway and almost gagged on the man’s blood. After having tasted that tiny drop of Portia’s blood, everything else now tasted like battery acid. Shit, he’d really screwed himself, hadn’t he? While he’d never much cared where his next meal came from as long as it was dripping from a pulsing vein, his taste had just become more refined.
He’d been a McDonalds kind of guy; now he’d suddenly acquired a taste for 3-star Michelin food. Perfect!
When he got home, Quinn took his mind off the disturbing thought.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
Zane raised a tired eyebrow and slumped down on the couch. Z jumped onto his lap and curled up. “Has he eaten?”
Quinn nodded. “I fed him after our walk.”
Zane looked down at the dog. “Thanks. So, what am I not going to believe?”
“The pin you found on the assassin: I’ve found the symbol.”
A bolt of excitement charged through him. Finally, something he could concentrate his energy on. “What does it mean?”
“Get this: it’s a group of vampires and hybrids who have banded together to create a superior race.”
Zane’s ears rang from the news. “A new race?”
“Not new, superior. They are selecting vampires and hybrids for a breeding program to give birth to stronger, superior hybrids.”