Reluctantly, he released his hold and circled the bed. There, in the small of her back, were the telltale puncture wounds of a snakebite.
He sucked in a breath.
“There’s no swelling,” Doc said. “No blackened skin, no redness. If the puncture wounds weren’t still there, we wouldn’t have known she’d been bitten. Here, cover her back up. I need to look at the blood.”
Striker eased Friday’s slight form back into the bed. She’d lost too much weight since she’d fallen asleep. There was only so much nutrition they could feed her using a tube. He hated seeing the tubes coming out of her, taking care of bodily functions until she could do it herself. Even though they kept her alive, they also reminded him that he’d failed her.
“It’s gonna be okay, bébé,” he cooed as he covered her up.
“Can I turn now?” Mace sounded like he was losing patience.
Tough. “Yeah, but be warned. I plan on hitting you later for being a pain in my ass.”
“Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing.” His best friend covered the distance to stand beside him. “What’s your rattler say about this?”
“He’s been hibernating, or whatever the hell you call it when a reptile decides to go to sleep for weeks. He ain’t been talking much.”
“You telling me he’s been asleep as long as Friday?”
Now that he thought about it, that did seem kind of strange. “You think there’s a connection?”
“Damned if I know what to think about any of this. She should have died weeks ago. Instead she looks like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince. Meanwhile, Doc says her bloodwork is showing weird results, and there’s a baby snake on her arm. We’re in the Twilight Zone, man. I have no clue what’s going on.”
He had a point. Striker traced his fingers down her arm. It was soft and warm and very much alive. That alone had been the one thing to keep him from losing his mind completely these past few weeks. The fact she hadn’t deteriorated in any way gave him hope. Blind, desperate, hope.
“I’m gonna have a word with the handbag.” And he was gonna be pissed if the rattler was holding out on him.
“Have at it.” His friend sat back in the chair beside the bed and stretched out his legs.
Striker focused inward and found the presence of the sleeping diamondback. Wake up, asshole! Did you bite Friday?
The reply was a testy grumble.
He didn’t have patience for this. Yo! Sam! You talking handbag, did you bite Friday?
Stop yelling.
He felt the reptile yawn and stir within him.
Did you bite Friday?
You know I did. I saw it in your mind. There’s a bite mark.
That made him clench his teeth. Why did you bite her?
He got the distinct impression that his reptile thought his human half was dumb as dirt. To save her.
He sucked in a breath, drawing Mace’s attention.
“What?” his friend demanded.
Striker tried to process what he’d just learned. “He said he bit her to save her.”
“How the hell would he know to do that? His bite is poisonous. It kills people. How would that save her?”
I know poisons. The rattler sounded more than a little superior. I knew my poison would eat hers.
“He said he knew his poison would eat the one inside her. And I think he added a silent asshole on the end of that just for you.”
Mace shot him the bird, but he wasn’t offended. He figured it was meant for the diamondback, anyway.
And, the rattler said, she’s our mate. My bite doesn’t work the same way on our mate as it does on other humans. He said the last part as though it was common knowledge.
Everything within him stilled. I don’t understand.
I’m tired. Wake me when my mate is here, the rattler said before curling back to sleep.
It wasn’t the first time his other half had referred to Friday as his mate, but now Striker was beginning to suspect something else entirely. Something that made adrenaline flood his system. “Snakes don’t mate for life, do they?”
“No. They’re horndogs. They jump any snake in their path.”
“That’s what I thought.” He sat on the edge of the bed and caressed the image on his woman’s arm. “Then why is it telling me to wake him when his mate gets here? Why is he saying that his bite doesn’t affect her the way it would other people—because she’s our mate?”
Mace sat up straight. His eyes going to the image of the baby snake. “I thought that was his child. You think it’s his mate? You think there was something special about Friday that meant biting her would create a mate for him instead of killing her?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I’ve got it.” Doc ran into the room, waving a data pad. “The other foreign element in Friday’s blood is definitely the diamondback’s venom. I didn’t recognize it because it interacted with the Interferan-X. Poison is consuming the Interferan-X. But there are a whole lot of other things going on in her blood that I just don’t have the skills to interpret.”
“I don’t care about the details. Is there anything in her blood that’s going to kill her?”
“I don’t think so.”
It took a minute for that to sink in. “She’s gonna live?”
“I think so, but I don’t know for sure. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m totally out of my depth here. Hell, I’m not sure there’s anyone on the planet that could tell us what’s going on. Your reptile’s poison isn’t exactly normal. The red mist changed it somehow. It’s something the world hasn’t seen before.”
“But she’s gonna live, right?” That was the only question he needed answering.
“Yeah.” Doc’s smile was slow in coming, but when it got there, it was wide. “I’m pretty sure your woman is going to live.”
That was all he needed to hear. With an answering grin, he climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside her. “In that case, wake me up when things change. I haven’t slept for weeks.”
He tuned out his friends’ laughter as he wrapped himself around his woman and closed his eyes. Seven weeks he’d waited, prayed, and begged, desperate for a miracle. And now it was here. He hadn’t dared to hope, but he hadn’t been able to let her go, either. He took a deep breath, filling himself with her soft springtime scent. His whole body shook at the news. She was going to live. He wasn’t going to lose her. Thank you, God, he prayed.
She wasn’t going anywhere. She was his.
Thanks, he added to his diamondback.
Dumbass, was the reply.
Chapter Forty-Three
It was three more weeks before Friday woke. Striker sat beside their bed going over reports that detailed the massive hunt underway to find him. Somehow, he’d managed to compromise his team during the op in La Paz. He wasn’t sure how he’d done it, exactly, and until they knew for sure, he’d confined himself to the caves.
Not that he cared. He wouldn’t leave his woman anyway. The air around them stirred, and Friday let out a tiny moan. She’d been doing that a lot the past few days, and they all thought it was a sign she was getting ready to wake. Striker put his computer tablet aside as he reached for her hand. The diamondback, who’d been curled on top of her stomach, raised its lazy head and stared at her face.
Her eyelashes fluttered as Striker held his breath.
She’s waking! the snake said.
Yeah. He smiled at the excitement in the rattler’s voice. He felt a little light-headed himself. Hours, he’d spent, staring at this woman, wishing he could climb inside her and fight the poison for her. He’d never felt more helpless in his life. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything harm her, ever again. From now on, he was gonna stay glued to her side. Hell, he’d get her to invent a special protection suit. One she could wear twenty-four-seven. Because she was never getting hurt ever again. Not if he could stop it.
She let out another little moan as her eyes slowly opened. It was im
possible to breathe. She was coming back to him. It was enough to take a man to his knees in gratitude.
“Hey, bébé,” he said softy, “it’s good to have you back. You scared me. Don’ ever do that again.”
Her head turned slowly toward him, and she blinked several times. His world tilted at the sight before him. Instead of two blue eyes, there was only one. The other eye was yellow, with the distinct elliptical pupil of a snake.
“What is it?” Her voice was hoarse from lack of use.
He forced himself to breathe. “You’re beautiful.”
Her gaze was soft and unfocused. “Are you real? Or am I dead?”
“I’m real, and you are nowhere near dead.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and felt her hand tighten in his.
“I’m not dead?” she whispered when he broke the kiss, searching his eyes for the truth. The eyes that were a match for hers. “Or dreaming?”
“This isn’t a dream, and you’re very much alive. I plan on keeping it that way, too.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “No more playing with poisons. You hear me? There’s gonna be hell to pay if you pull a stunt like that again.”
“Are you sure this is real?”
“You want me to pinch you?”
“What would that prove?” Her brow puckered in confusion.
“Trust me, you’re alive. The poison didn’t kill you, but everybody thinks you’re dead. We’re in the Red Zone, and nobody can get to you here. You’re safer than you’ve ever been.” He caressed her silken hair. “You’re free, bébé. No more CommTECH.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she searched his face, the beginnings of belief and hope in her gaze. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you about something this important.” He rested his forehead on hers. “Don’t you ever try to leave me again, you hear?”
He felt her tremble, and her hand came up to cup his head. She was weak, but she was alive, and he’d make sure she got stronger. She was his first priority. The reason he’d found for living in this strange new time.
“Did you get the antidote to me in time? Is that what saved me?”
“No.” He leaned back to look at her, hesitating because he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her she’d changed. Not only changed, but become like him.
No, like us. She’s our mate.
Not helping!
“Whatever it is, just tell me.” Her voice shook, and he was instantly angry with himself for scaring her. “I need to know what happened. I need to know this isn’t a hallucination brought on by the poison.”
He let out a sigh. There was no easy way to say this. “The handbag bit you when you slipped into unconsciousness in the cell.”
“Sam?” She looked down at the rattler, who practically preened.
Tell her how brilliant I am, the diamondback demanded. Tell her I saved her. Not you. Me.
Smug pain in his ass. Striker scowled at the reptile before turning back to Friday. “Far as we can figure, when the rattler bit you, his mutated venom ate the Interferan-X.”
She blinked at him a couple of times, thinking. The sight made him want to shout from the rafters because it meant she was back. “I need a blood sample and access to the lab.”
He couldn’t help his grin. “DNA study has to wait. You need to get your strength back first.”
“I have questions.”
“I bet you do, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find the answers to them. Later. Once you’re better.” He paused before deciding just to spit it out. “I have to tell you something else. The venom changed you a little bit.” Her eyes went wide, and he rushed to reassure her. “They’re good changes. You look real cute.”
“Striker?” Her tone was losing some if its weakness. Which was good. Mostly. Unless she started shouting.
“Hey, look who’s awake.”
He almost sighed with relief when Doc walked into the room. The medic headed straight for the bed and came up short when Friday looked up at him.
“Holy crap,” he said.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” Her gaze moved rapidly between them.
“Thanks a lot,” Striker grumbled. “I had her all calm, and you blew it.”
He had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.”
“What’s going on?” Friday struggled to sit up, and he reached over to help her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Let’s get you out of bed, and I’ll explain everything.” Or better yet, put her in front of a mirror and let her see for herself.
“Yes. Good idea,” Doc stopped gaping long enough to say. “I need to unhook you from the equipment.”
Friday pinned Striker with a glare. “You will tell me everything and answer all of my questions.”
“Promise.” He lifted their entwined fingers and kissed her knuckles. “You just woke up. Let’s get you sorted first.”
She wasn’t convinced, but she nodded.
Tell her about the snake, the rattler demanded. Tell her she carries my mate.
Reptiles don’t mate. How many times do I have to tell you this? You sleep around. It’s what you do.
I mate. The rattler hissed at him and started shaking his tail.
He rolled his eyes. You’re an embarrassment to your species.
And you are a dickhead.
I liked you better when you couldn’t talk.
The rattler narrowed his eyes and struck out, biting him on the shoulder. “Hey, that hurts. You’re damn lucky the poison has no effect on me.” He rubbed the bite. “I swear, if I thought I could survive without you, I’d turn you into a pair of boots.”
“Striker!” Friday was outraged as Doc chuckled.
He shrugged. “That talking handbag is a pain in my ass. He never shuts up, and he’s got an ego like you wouldn’t believe. You try listening to him all the damn time. His only saving grace is that he likes to sleep.”
The rattler rubbed its face along Friday’s jaw, cuddling into her. She softened, smiling down at him and petting him. Asshole.
“You need to stop being so mean to him. You’re much bigger, and I’m sure he’s just as confused as you are about the way you’re merged together now.”
See? I told you she likes me better, the snake crowed, earning another glare.
Doc cleared his throat and, wisely, hid his smile. “Right, that’s all the machines unhooked. You’re free to go. Striker can take you to the shower. I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up.” He took a step back and folded his arms. “Far as I can see, you don’t have any health issues other than what you’d expect from being bedbound for weeks. You’ll feel weak, you’ve lost weight and some muscle mass, but that’s about it. Take it easy for a while, eat, rest, and you’ll soon be back to normal.” He shared a look with Striker. “Or better than normal.” His laugh was forced, and Striker made a mental note never to send the medic into an operation that required undercover work. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
Especially Friday. “What aren’t you telling me?”
While the medic turned red and looked like he might bolt from the room, Striker threw back her covers and shifted her legs around, getting her ready to stand. “Nothing I can’t explain once you’re all cleaned up. Let’s go.”
With one last glance that promised the topic wasn’t closed, she let him help her to her feet. She swayed in place, and he held her waist tight to steady her. Emotion flooded him, making his own knees wobble. She was there. Alive. In front of him. Overwhelmed by emotions he couldn’t fully comprehend, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight.
“Never again,” he forced the words through his closing throat. “You hear me, bébé, never again.”
“Never again,” she promised, the words muffled against his chest.
…
Friday was glad Striker carried her to the shower room. Not because she felt weak, although she definitely did, but because she didn’t want even an inch to separate them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her c
heek against his chest.
Hers.
Her other half. And she’d almost lost him. She blinked hard, willing the tears back, focusing on the present. She’d prayed for a miracle, and that’s what she’d received. It was a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.
“I want to get married,” she blurted. “To you,” she added, just in case there was any confusion.
“Bébé, I’d tie you to me with rope if I could get away with it. Marriage is definitely happening. So is tagging you with a tracking device and possibly handcuffing you to the bed at night. There’s no way I’m letting you slip away from me ever again.”
Laughter bubbled up inside of her. This must be what happiness felt like. “I’m not sure about the handcuffing thing. That sounds uncomfortable.”
“We’ll see.” He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling. “I already ordered wedding bands.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Although she’d had something else in mind.
“But?” He read her face far too easily.
“I thought we might get matching tattoos, instead. They’re about as permanent as you can get. You can take off a ring. You can’t take off a tattoo. Well, not easily anyway.”
He threw back his head and laughed hard. Although she wasn’t sure what she’d said that was so entertaining. His laughter vibrated through her body, like bubbles inside of her. It was the most glorious feeling, one she never wanted to end.
As they made their way down the corridor, his team began to converge on them. She turned her face into his neck, worried what reception they’d give her and a little embarrassed at being carried.
“Hey, girl,” Sandi said. “Glad to see you awake. I went shopping for you. Now you have clothes that will fit.”
The kindness melted away her worries, and she pulled her face out of Striker’s neck. “Thanks, Sandi.”
As soon as their eyes met, Sandi jerked with shock. The reaction was gone in a flash, replaced by a wide, welcoming smile. “You’re more than welcome.” She shared a look with her team leader that Friday couldn’t quite read.
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