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She squinted to see better. “The next one over.”

Glass clinked as he grabbed the vial she’d indicated to.

They were on the second floor. They were alone in here, the others standing guard out in the dark hallway. The hospital was deserted—no staff or patients. There was a lot of blood, though. On the floor, the walls. The ceiling, even. Not exactly encouraging.

But neither was Jewels’s condition. Not only was her skin ghostly pale and drenched with sweat, but she could barely sit up. When her legs had given out halfway up the stairs, Travishad insisted on carrying her on his back the rest of the way. It was only Dominic, who had been walking behind her when she fell, that had stopped her from tumbling all the way down to the bottom. He’d bent down to stop her mid-roll, and from there Travis had carried her.

“I hope you’re not afraid of needles,” Jewels said as he joined her at the counter and opened a new syringe.

“I used to be,” he admitted. “I got over it, though. I think my obsession with tattoos helped, somewhat.” He grabbed the vial. “You’re going to have to tell me what to do,” he said as he tilted the vial in his hand, the silver cap winking like a fading star. There were no lights on in here besides a couple of dim security bulbs. “I’ve never used one of these before.”

“You stick the needle in through the top.” She indicated to the rubber membrane at the top of the vial. “Then you pull up on the piston to fill the syringe.”

“How far?”

“This line here.” Her fingers brushed against his as she showed him the correct measurement line on the syringe.

Their gazes clashed. They looked away at the same time.

Travis took a breath. “Okay,” he said on the exhale. “Let’s do this.”

He followed her instructions, pushing the needle through the rubber membrane and pulling up on the piston. But by the time he set the vial aside, he realized he didn’t know what to do from here. What if he didn’t do it right and ended up hurting her or something?

“Uhh…” He laughed, nervous. “Now what?”

Jewels stripped off her jacket and rolled up the sleeve of her tee. “Now you stick it in.”

“Pssh. At least take me out to dinner first.”

She snickered.

“Sorry. Probably a bad time for jokes.”

“It’s never a bad time for jokes. Right here’s fine.” She tapped a spot on her upper arm. “I’d do it myself, but it makes me queasy. It’s a little easier when someone else…sticks it in.” Her big green eyes danced.

Travis chuckled, that look in her eyes heating his blood with desire. “Okay, let the prostick it in,then.” He positioned the needle. “Is this going to hurt?”

“It bites a little, but I’m used to it.”

“Good biting, or bad biting?” He winked.

She fought a smile. “You’re quite the flirt, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.” He forced himself to focus, his humor fading. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’ve been ready for like five minutes.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m kind of new at this.”

“I’m just teasing, Travis. You’re doing fine.”

He moved as carefully as he could as he eased the needle into her smooth skin and pushed down on the piston. “Is that okay?” he asked her, watching as the medicine in the syringe began to drain.

“That’s fine.” She was breathing deeply, though, and Travis detected that, no matter how many times she claimed to have done this, she didn’t like it. He didn’t blame her. Getting stuck with sharp objects wasn’t exactly a fun time.

He pushed the piston down until every drop of the translucent medicine was dispensed. Then he drew the needle back out.

“There,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard.” He disposed of the needle in the sharps container. “You want one of those fun colorful bandages they give to the kids? Something sparkly, maybe?”