Page 38

Other than the fever escalating Sascha’s panic, Avery truly does feel fine. Restless, though. He knows he’s healing, but it would feel better if he could hold still.

“You didn’t have to disturb Petra,” Avery says, sitting cross-legged on the bed while watching Sascha pace.

Sascha slows, rerouting to the side of the bed so he can take Avery’s hands. “You’re running a fever. Maybe you have an infection or something.”

“Youjustchecked and redid all the bandages,” Avery points out, gesturing at the wrapping on his arm. “They all looked good. Petra said the shifter magic might affect my biology differently; that’s probably all it is. I feel fine.”

“I’d rather she make that call after performing an exam.”

Avery opens his mouth to retort, but Sascha squishes his cheeks together to silence him, then kisses his puckered lips. Whatever Avery had planned on saying flies out of his head, making way for the pleasant fog he feels whenever Sascha touches him. His pulse quickens, sparks from the center of his chest crawling up his throat?—

When Sascha leans back, he uses his grip on Avery’s face to stop him from following. Avery pouts, which probably looks ridiculous, but it makes Sascha smile.

“If you behave and let Petra look you over without complaining, we can make out after she leaves.”

Avery’s spine straightens, and Sascha smirks as he releases Avery’s cheeks and steps back. In the interest of ‘helping him heal by not disturbing or reopening any of his wounds,’ Sascha has refused any contact more intimate than cuddling or a brief kiss. It’s infuriating, especially when Sascha laughs at Avery’s sulking. The worst thing, though, is that Avery actually appreciates Sascha’s restraint. No one has ever valued Avery’s safety over the pleasure of fucking him before. That’s why he’s here: Because a person he thought he could trust prioritized her arousal over his autonomy.

So Avery drags in a shuddery inhale, then nods. “I’m holding you to that,” he says, voice dark with warning because, despite feeling sentimental about Sascha’s boundaries, Avery is about ready to jump him.

Sascha pets Avery’s hair, his smile fond. Then he goes back to pacing, while Avery goes back to feeling restless.

Suddenly light-headed, Avery unfolds and rolls onto his side. He closes his eyes, hoping to regain his equilibrium, but that makes his head spin even worse. Is this how Sascha feels during his episodes? Unpleasant, if so, but Avery is certain it’ll pass. Maybe just another side effect of Petra’s modified healing magic.

But by the time Sascha opens the door for Petra, Avery is on the bed squirming and sweating in the lightweight pajamas Sascha bought to replace his ruined shirt and disgusting jeans. Damp fabric sticks to his skin, and the sensation is so awful he nearly yanks the tank over his head.

“Oh,” Petra says when she sees him twisting in the sheets. Clearly, she didn’t believe Sascha when he insisted something was wrong. Neither did Avery.

Petra performs a quick examination, then reports the healing is progressing as expected. She doesn’t sense any signs of Avery’s body rejecting her magic. That ruled out, she shoves a cup into Avery’s hand and tells him to pee in it so she can check his kidney values.

Sascha offers to help, but Avery would rather go back to the ditch than let someone help him piss into a cup, especially when he wants that person to still find him sexy. Getting the sample is grosser than Avery told himself it would be, but he manages. After Petra states his urine is clear, Avery flops onto the shitty hotel mattress and tries to forget it happened.

While he’s there, Petra announces that she’s going to remove the stitches on Avery’s back. He rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in a pillow, not expecting much from the procedure. Then Petra’s hand lands on his back, and Avery moans quietly. She yanks her hand away.

“Did that hurt?”

Avery shakes his head, equally confused. The brush of her fingertips against his skin was… overwhelming. She uses a magic barrier in place of latex gloves, but Avery swears he felt the map of her fingerprints like a file rasping against his nerve endings. Despite that, he insists, “I’m fine,” and chews at a piece of skin on his lip to distract from Petra’s quick, professional gestures.

Petra administers another burst of healing magic to each of the wounds just to be safe. After that, she taps her chin and stares at him. Avery closes his eyes, but he still feels the weight of her consideration like a thick blanket over his inflamed skin.

“The lacerations will be fully recovered within the next day or two. They’ll be tender, but everything is on the right track.” What Petra doesn’t say speaks louder: She can’t figure out what’s happening to him. Petra steps away, and Avery hears water running in the bathroom. When Petra returns, Avery peeks an eye open, taking note of her damp face andhands, eyelashes clumped together. She runs her fingers over the long twists of her black hair, watching Avery as she does.

Avery studies her in return, an odd sensation curling in his belly. During her care, he’d never looked at her closely. Taller than him but shorter than Sascha, with high cheekbones, brown eyes, and rich copper skin. Petra cocks her head, not breaking their locked gaze, and just as Avery is opening his mouth to tell Petra he just realized how gorgeous she is, Sascha bursts out with, “What do we donow?”

When Avery looks in his direction, the twisting in his abdomen intensifies until it’s nearly painful.

“I’m going to do some research,” Petra announces, plucking her laptop from her medical bag and whisking it over to the small table in the corner, long skirt fluttering behind her.

Whimpering, Avery reaches a hand toward Sascha because whatever fever has taken over his head just told him he needs nothing more than Sascha’s skin against his. Right now. The severe set of Sascha’s jaw relaxes, his whole expression softening as he hurries to Avery’s side, entwining their fingers.

“We’ll figure out what’s wrong,” he promises.

Content for now, heart full of trust, Avery merely nods and drags Sascha closer so he can rest his warm cheek against the coolness of Sascha’s inner wrist. Sascha allows Avery to keep his hand. He makes himself comfortable on the floor with a pillow under his ass, phone in his right hand while Avery refuses to relinquish the left.

Avery doesn’t know how long it is before Petra clears her throat. Sascha jerks, and Avery clutches his wrist tighter so Sascha can’t pull away.

“I think I’ve identified the problem, but it might sound weird.”

Though unease makes Avery’s oversensitive skin prickle, he doesn’t open his eyes.