Page 53

In order to get Sascha to rest, Petra has been using every technique she knows short of horse tranquilizers, and even then, Sascha has woken up numerous times, gasping from nightmares he can’t describe. Every night, Petra gives him herbs to numb his mind, weaving calming magic with her fingers stroking through his hair.

This morning, Sascha woke up feeling stable at last, but Petra has thus far refused to be convinced of his wellness.

“I’m going crazy, Petra. I’m an adult, and?—”

She snorts. “Oh, are you? You’re not acting like one.”

“I— Please, just listen to me. I need to know if Avery’s okay.” For a second, Sascha thinks Petra stills, but a blink later she looks unaffected, calmly washing her hands.

“He texted me that he’s fine,” she says, turning off the water and reaching for a paper towel.

“When was that?” Petra meticulously dries her hands and doesn’t respond, so Sascha raises his voice. “When did Avery last text you?”

“I’ll check my phone in a moment, but regardless of what I find, my instructions will not change.”

Sascha grits his teeth, watching her flip absently through the same stack of papers she was perusing before she insisted on checking his vitals for the third time today. “I know there’s something bad you aren’t telling me. You’re stalling because you know if I find out, I’ll try to leave.”

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Petra responds, sounding distant and disinterested.

“Will you stop fucking bullshitting me?”

Without warning, Petra slams the dossier onto the counter beside the sink, voice rising to the loudest he’s ever heard from her. “Sascha Nikolai Madison, you are not getting out of that bed!”

Stunned into silence, Sascha frowns at his hands where they rest in his lap. He needs to keep his wits, even if his brain is full of misfiring distress signals. Though his heart ispounding frantically, he feigns calm and says, “The last time someone full-named me, it was Avery begging me to fuck him.”

Petra makes a scandalized sound, which brings Sascha great satisfaction. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“You were the one who told me I had to fuck him in the first place.”

“I didn’t— Goddamn it, Sascha. You’re staying here. That’s final.”

“Petra!”

“No.Last time you went out, you crashed my car.”

“You can’t hold that against me when you gave me the car in the first place,” he protests.

Petra pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not holding it against you, and your dad has already assured me he’s going to replace it. That’s not the problem. My issue is that you’ve burned yourself out so severely I thought I was going to have to do a magic infusion, and in case you forgot, those areextremelydangerous for you.”

Most shifters can be healed and rejuvenated by aetheric energy movement, but the spinning sickness leaves Sascha uniquely vulnerable to burn-out. It’s not that Sascha doesn’t understand Petra’s concern. His health is important to his pack, and the few freedoms Sascha is allowed right now will be affected if he is continuously reckless. Taking care of oneself is sensible, even in the abstract.

But Sascha’s own safety can’t be his priority. Not now.

“When was the last time Avery texted you, Petra? Please.”

Just when Sascha is certain she won’t answer, Petra sighs heavily. “I have not heard from Avery since yesterday evening.”

A jolt of fear electrifies the length of Sascha’s spine, making his head spin and his lungs ache. Before his phone got damaged, Avery was a frequent texter and prompt about updates. It’s not like him to go silent for so long.

Heart pounding, Sascha throws back the blanket draped over his lap and leaps out of the medical bed. The moment his feet touch the floor his knees buckle, weakness radiating through his bones. He lands in a panicked heap, only barely aware of Petra’s gasp over his own hyperventilation.

By the time Petra makes it to his side, Sascha has gotten his arms around his knees, folding them against his chest so he can bury his face against them. Breath scrapes in and out of him, none of it seeming enough.

“Maybe something happened to his phone,” Petra says instead of asking if Sascha is okay, which he appreciates. Because no, Sascha is not okay. He won’t be until he sees Avery, knows he’s safe.

Sascha shakes as if the air conditioning in Petra’s apartment is Arctic wind. “I need to find him. Don’t tell me I can’t.”

Petra makes a helpless sound. “I promised to take care of you. I can’t let you leave in this condition.”