by J. D. Tyler
She cocked her head. “He also sent down some remarkably interesting samples that you liberated from your former employer.”
“Did he tell you why I took them?”
“Yes. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt because Nick insists you’ll play a vital role here—and I have to admit he would know. From what I’ve seen so far, with your astounding progress with Blue, I’m inclined to give you a chance.”
“Sariel,” she corrected automatically. The woman didn’t take offense.
“Right. But back to the samples—I believed them to be human, at first, but some interesting markers presented themselves. I then called in two assistants and we’re working to verify what it is, exactly, that you’ve brought to us.”
“Why can’t Jax and Nick, you know, do their woo-woo thing on them and find out?”
The doctor gave her a piercing stare that spoke volumes about what a stupid question that had been. “And if they handle the tissue, and fail to get a reading?”
Kira flushed. “The sample is likely harmed.”
“Not only that, but do you have any idea of the adverse effects using their Psy gifts has on their bodies? In some cases, it can leave them drained for days. And if they’re called out to deal with a rogue? It could be deadly.”
“But with all due respect, science can’t tell us everything,” she said, careful to keep her tone respectful. “It can’t always tell the story, or the process of investigating is so slow, critical time is lost.”
“Well, that’s what still makes us all human, no matter our gifts,” the doctor responded softly. “We all have to make our judgment call, and learn to live with it.”
Kira wondered what decisions Dr. Mallory was trying to live with.
“What about me? Will you take a chance, or do I need to beg Nick for a job scrubbing toilets?”
For the first time, the other woman’s mouth quirked with humor. A small crack in the shell. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Report to me tomorrow morning after breakfast. You can observe while we continue testing on your samples and see what we find. Your afternoons will be free to work with your new charges in Block R.” She stood, concluding the meeting.
“Thank you.” She offered the doc her hand, and got a brisk shake.
“Send in Bl—I mean Sariel, if you don’t mind. I’d like to talk with him a bit, and then give him a checkup.”
“Sure.”
As she went to get Sariel, she pondered her conversation with the doc. Strange, her emotions had been every bit as guarded as the Seelie’s were a few minutes ago. Impenetrable.
And I must be crazy, thinking I can read emotions all of a sudden!
She made a note to ask Dr. Mallory about it tomorrow—among other things. Sariel stood, quickly masking the trepidation that flashed across his face as she approached.
“Relax,” she told her new friend. “She just wants to talk to you and then make sure you’re healthy. Okay?”
“If you insist,” he managed. “I’ll trust you.”
“Do you want me to wait until you’re done?”
There was no mistaking the profound relief as he answered. “If you don’t mind.”
“No problem.”
He tried a smile and then walked past her, head high, as though to his doom. But she wasn’t worried. Dr. Mallory might not be all shits and giggles, but she seemed fair.
Maybe the doc just needed to get laid.
Thinking of Jax and where that mentality had gotten her, she made a face.
Then again, maybe not.
Eight
“Watch out! Brace with your left leg, not your right!”
Jaxon grappled for leverage, fighting both a losing battle with Zan and his own goddamned bum leg. He wanted to yell at Aric that he was trying and to kindly fuck off, but he couldn’t bellow at his friend and breathe through the pain at the same time.
Sweat trickled down his face and sides and his mangled leg trembled as Zan used his position to his advantage, bowing Jax backward to force their combined weight onto the limb. Zan had him in a bear hug, his embrace every bit as powerful and unbreakable as a grizzly’s. All he had to do was be patient and wear Jax down, drive him to exhaustion.
It was pathetic how quickly he’d done it.
Then suddenly, Zan let up, loosened his hold. Distracted by the relief of being able to straighten, thinking their bout was over, Jax was taken completely by surprise when Zan delivered a swift kick to his injured leg.
“Aaah, fuuuuck!” he yelled, agony sweeping through his muscles like a blowtorch. The leg buckled and he went down hard, the thick gym mat cushioning his fall. To his shame, he could do nothing but writhe on the mat, breathing hard and pounding his fist, riding out the waves of sickness rising in his throat.
“Hey, low blow!” Aric shouted. Jax was barely aware of the redhead leaping from his spot on the bleachers and jogging over to shove Zan. “What the hell, asshole?”
Zan ignored him and raised his thumb and forefinger as though shooting a gun aimed between Jaxon’s eyes. “And boom, you’re dead.”
Aric shoved Zan again and got right in his face. “I’m talkin’ to you, needledick. What gives with that bullshit? You’re supposed to be his best bud, and you put him on the ground like a fuckin’ dog!”
Jaxon wasn’t sure what amazed him more—Zan doing just what Aric said, or Aric leaping to Jaxon’s defense. Wasn’t it just this morning that he’d taken a chunk out of the red wolf for getting too cozy with Kira? And here the man was, ready to do the same to Zan for delivering the cheap shot.
The two men glared at each other as Zan replied. “What do you think a demon would do in battle? Or someone with a gun? Apologize and offer to kiss his boo-boos? Get a grip, man. We can’t help him improve his skills by coddling him.”
Aric’s lip curled. “But you’re not the enemy, you prick. He can’t get better with you whacking away at the damage.”
“I disagree.”
“Why don’t ya take a shot at someone who can whoop your ass?”
Jesus. Sitting up with a grimace, Jax reached out and tapped Aric’s calf. “At ease, soldier. He’s right. Help me up, would you?”
The pair stared each other down a few seconds longer. Aric relented first and reached to lend him a hand. Zan grabbed the other and together they hauled him to his feet. Another bolt of pain rocketed through the complaining limb, but he managed to steady himself by briefly holding on to Zan’s shoulder.
At their questioning looks, he nodded. “I’m good. Gonna go grab a shower and see Melina before lunch.”
“Christ, Jax, did I hurt you that bad?” Zan asked, eyes wide. “God, I’m sorry!”
“No,” he said with a short, humorless laugh. “Something else entirely.”
“What’s going on?” This from Aric, who was frowning in concern. “You sick?”
“Don’t think so.” He paused. “Not sure. I’ve got this burning itch—”
“Eewww.” Zan gave him a teasing grin. “Thought we couldn’t get those kinds of diseases anymore.”
“Ha-ha, very funny. It’s not that sort of itch; it’s all over, just under my skin. No rash or anything, but it’s driving me insane.” Especially when she’s around, and then I have the unbearable urge to bite her. But he refrained from telling them that part.
Zan pushed a hand through his black hair. “Huh. Well, if anyone can figure it out, Melina can. Let us know you’re okay after you talk to her.”
“You bet. Walk me out?”
He didn’t really need any help, but he wasn’t about to leave them there alone to possibly get into another argument. Aric’s combustible temper was going to be his downfall someday.
In the hallway, at the junction leading to his quarters, however, he had no option but to leave them to their own devices as they headed toward the rec room. At least they both seemed calm now. They could handle their difference of opinion like adults. He hoped.
In his bedroom, he strippe
d and showered without rushing, letting the hot water cascade over his aching muscles. Bracing his hands against the tile, he hung his head and fought back the feelings of worthlessness threatening to take over. He was no good to his team in this condition, but Nick had stood firm against him quitting Alpha Pack. God knows why.
The boss had his reasons and Jaxon was sure he didn’t want to be privy to them.
A small, insistent voice in his brain reminded him that he’d handled the bastards attacking Kira just fine. In wolf form, he wasn’t weak. Wasn’t less. But how could she, or any woman, love the beast as well as the man?
That brought his head up, eyes wide. Love?
No. Uh-uh. Not now or ever.
Lust? Bring it on.
And Kira was too good to be used that way. Her soft little heart would get broken in nothing flat, hanging with the likes of him. She deserved better.
The goddamned itching returned at that very moment, seizing him with a vengeance. Arms, legs, and torso, he inspected every inch, and nothing. Groaning, he scratched like a madman, only to learn that made it a million times worse, and inflamed the burning sensation. Yet his skin was totally unblemished.
“Son of a bitch!”
Smacking the nozzle to shut off the water, he flung open the glass door and stepped onto the rug. Then he grabbed the towel hanging on the nearby bar and dried off, and hurried to the bedroom to put on fresh jeans and a T-shirt that declared THE HEAT I’M PACKING IS JUSTIFIED without really paying attention to what he’d picked.
Then he studied himself in the mirror, wondering if he should change the shirt.
He grinned. Nah.
His good humor was short-lived as he limped toward Melina’s office. He probably should’ve called first, but he was in too damned big a hurry to stop. Didn’t make a difference whether she was busy or not, he had to see her and get something to stop the itching before he lost what was left of his mind.
Hobbling into the reception area, he saw Kira sitting in a chair flipping through a magazine, but paused only long enough to bark at the young female receptionist, “Is Dr. Mallory back there?”
“Yes, but—Wait! She’s with a patient!”
Tough shit. He was dying. Rushing to her office, he found the door standing open, the space empty. She must be in one of the exam rooms, then. Going from room to room, he had the presence of mind to knock before pushing open the doors. In the fourth one, he found the doc standing next to the Fae prince, who was sitting on an exam table. The white paper underneath him crinkled as he peered around the doc at Jaxon.
His movement alerted Melina, who was holding a cotton ball tightly to the bend at his elbow. Glancing over her shoulder at Jaxon, she shot him a look of annoyance and then turned back to her patient.
“I’m going to put a Band-Aid over this. Leave it on a while, until the bleeding stops.”
“All right.” The prince gave her a smile. “That wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.”
“Usually isn’t.” Jaxon watched in amazement as she beamed at the man in return.
There was still a warm, fuzzy woman under those cactus spines after all. Who knew? He waited patiently as she patted Sariel on the arm in a comforting gesture and then collected a vial of sapphire blue liquid from the nearby counter.
“Is that his blood?” he asked, raising his brows.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Is this a social call or are you having a problem?”
“A problem.”
“Wait in exam room two while I finish.” She pointed the way in curt dismissal.
She was pissed, but he was too damned miserable to care. He walked two doors down and paced the empty room, listening to their conversation as she concluded business with her patient. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but even with the carpeting, the acoustics afforded him every word.
“Okay, I’m going to run a few more tests that I haven’t yet done on you, mostly for research, to study and record how the system of a Fae male works. How it compares with the humans and shifters.”
“All right.”
“However, some of them are going to tell me what I already know. Such as the fact that you’ve lost too much weight. You’ve got to start eating, even if you don’t want to, in order to get back your energy and regain your health.”
“I’ll try,” he said in a grave voice. “But as I said, I don’t eat meat and anything else I’ve sampled has made me sick. Which doesn’t make sense because your vegetables are not that different, from what I’ve seen.”
“We’ll work on that. Now, what about you trying to take your own life? Do I need to worry about you attempting it again?”
“No! On my honor, I will not.” He sounded sincere, and ashamed. “I was feeling like I had lost everything. But I can see perhaps that was not true.”
“It’s not true at all. You have friends here, if you want them, and I think you’ll do well. But come to me immediately if those depressed feelings return.”
“I will.”
“Good. As soon as I’m done with Jax, I’ll speak with the kitchen and have them prepare some other dishes for you to try. If that doesn’t work, we’ll keep digging until we get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Melina, please,” she said softly.
Oh-ho! Jaxon stopped in midstride and grinned, wondering whether the guy had any clue what a gift had just been dropped in his lap. If not, he’d soon find out if things got up close and personal between them.
“Sariel.” He paused, then added, “But you can continue to call me Blue if you’d like.”
“I will, then.”
This was getting more and more interesting. Too bad the doc was walking him out, ending the fascinating drama. As they reached Jaxon’s room, she stopped there and said she’d see him again soon. Sariel thanked her again and left.
She came inside and shut the door. “What’s so important that you barged into my examination with another patient? And it had better be good, because you don’t look like you’re dying,” she said, eyeing him.
“No, but I feel like I am,” he muttered, tugging at his soul patch. “Christ, Melina, I’m itching all fucking over. And look at me.” He spread his arms wide, and then tugged up the hem of his T-shirt so she could see his stomach. “No rash, nothing.”
“Have you been in contact with any strange or unidentifiable plants, maybe while running in the forest?”
“No, and I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed.”
The doc frowned, her irritation vanishing. “Take off your shirt.”
“You won’t find anything.” But he complied, and she circled him, nodding in agreement.
“You’re right. Clear as a bell.” Grabbing her stethoscope, she gestured to the table. “Let’s begin with all the standard stuff, like the heart, lungs, and throat. Have you run a temperature?”
“Nope. I don’t feel hot, and shifters can’t get diseases anyway.” He scooted onto the paper-covered surface.
“That we’ve been able to learn,” she pointed out. “That rule might only apply to the sexually transmitted ones.” After listening to his heart and lungs, she removed the instrument from her neck and set it on the counter. Next came the tongue depressor. “Clear so far. Open up.”
She placed the nasty wooden thing inside far enough to reach his frigging colon and pushed down. “Hmm. There’s some redness and swelling. Is your throat sore?” The depressor came out and she tossed it into the trash can.
Swallowing, he took stock. “A little. I hadn’t really noticed until you asked. It’s not bad, though.”
“Scale of one to ten?”
“Uh, a two.”
“Which means it’s really a three or four, knowing how you guys never admit to crap, even when you’re gushing blood.” Knowing the doc was right, he didn’t argue as she opened a drawer and removed a vial and a syringe sealed in sterile wrapping. “I’m going to have one of my assistants run the u
sual tests—blood cell count, hormone levels, thyroid, you name it. We’ll put a rush on it. Should be ready by tomorrow.”
“Melina . . . I need to ask you some questions. As a patient,” he clarified. They all worked in such close quarters, living together for years, he counted her among his friends. It could have been personal, but this time it wasn’t.
“We’ll talk in my office after this. I have questions for you, too.”
He studied her angular face as she deftly swabbed the skin at the crook of his elbow with alcohol and then opened the package containing the syringe. Black fringe framed her forehead and cheekbones in short spikes, longer than his own haircut but still severe to him. Her hair had once been long and glorious, a black silk curtain that she kept pulled back while working, loose when off duty. Once, she’d smiled more, too, the rough edges smoothed by contentment.
She’d been married then, to their former leader, Terry Noble. After he was killed in the massacre six months ago, she’d cut her beautiful locks. And her smiles—the ones that actually lit her eyes—were now as rare as Nick’s white wolf. Or a Fae prince.
But she’d smiled at Nick not long ago, when he wasn’t looking.
And she’d done the same today, with Sariel.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
He started. She was done and had stuck the cotton ball with the Band-Aid on his arm without him even noticing. “No reason. Just thinking that I miss your hair being long.”
What he really missed was the friend she’d been to them all before Terry died. But he could hardly tell her so without alienating her further. Especially when Jax was the cause.
She eyed him, a funny expression on her face. “Where did that come from?”
“Don’t know. Just being a stupid guy, I guess.”
“That I can believe.”
“Jeez, anesthetize a guy before you stab him, would ya?”
“You started it.” Her lips quirked, and it saddened him to realize that was as close as she came to teasing anymore.
“So I did.”
“My office. Wait for me there. I’m going to drop these off at the lab.”