Page 57

The lights buzzed awake in rows as the sensors picked up on their presence. The place was cold and sterile, most of the furnishing made of metal. It was a good thing a simple key card was the only layer of security they had to get through; without Tanner Atlas and his impressive hacking skills, they would’ve been in a pickle.

Darien sauntered through the room as if he owned it. “Have a seat.” His bass voice echoed. When he saw her glancing around in search of a chair that didn’t exist, he clarified, “On the table.”

She planted her palms on the surface—cold even through her gloves—and hopped up as Darien began sifting through drawers and cupboards, grabbing everything he needed. Being aDarkslayer came with enough risks and guaranteed injuries that knowing your medicines wasn’t amaybe,it was amust.

Recent events seemed to be shoving her dangerously close to hysterics, because she nearly busted out laughing when he put on a pair of blue nitrile gloves over the ones she knew he couldn’t remove. His hands were so big, they barely fit, making this even more funny.

He must have sensed her amusement, because he looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s the best I can do,” he said, the second glove snapping against his wrist. At least one of them maintained enough sanity to have cleanliness on the mind. That bodysuit of his was mucked up with so much dirt and gore, she shuddered at the thought of what she’d see crawling under a microscope.

She swung her feet and glanced around the room as he prepared everything, feeling safer than she had all day, simply from being in the same vicinity as him. The effect he had on her was pure magic.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind, sliding her backward so she was closer to the other edge of the table—closer to him for easier access.

“This is going to sting,” he warned as he worked on parting her tangled hair into two sections that draped over her shoulders. The strands tugged on the blisters and scabs, opening a few of them up.

She flattened her hands against the tabletop, bracing for more pain. Now that she was this far back, there was nothing to hold onto—nothing to squeeze. “Are there any painkillers in here?” She’d be surprised if there wasn’t; by the looks of the neatly stocked shelves and cupboards, this place was loaded.

“Shit, that reminds me,” he muttered, still working on the matted strands. Every movement was exceptionally careful, especially for someone as dangerous as him. “I was on my way tothe nurse’s station when this absolutely beautiful blonde decided to bump into me and jumbled my thoughts.” Her face turned flaming hot. “She distracted me so badly, I completely forgot what I was doing.”

She cleared her throat. “She sounds pretty great.”

Darien drew in a hiss through his teeth. “Fuck me, Loren, did your suit melt off or something?” Indeed, her back was exposed from shoulder blades to waist. At least it hadn’t burned down far enough that she was walking around with a bare ass.

“Why were you going to the nurse’s station?” she asked him.

It took him a moment to respond, as if he were realizing he’d already said too much. Metal clinked as he began opening tubes and bottles and setting out tools. Liquid glugged, and it took all her strength not to cry out as he touched something wet to her back and began cleaning her wounds. Finally he admitted, “Painkillers.”

Her brow furrowed. “Painkillers? Who for? Yourself?” She turned her head to the side, trying to peer at his expression, but it was pointless—she couldn’t see him from this position. “Darien, did you hurt yourself?” Was that the reason he and Roman were here? When he still didn’t answer, she tried to turn around and look at him?—

“Face forward, please,” he said, stilling her with a gentle hand gripping her waist, his fingers wrapping around her left side. Her stomach did a backflip—but swiftly dropped through her feet when he confessed, “I broke my hand again.”

Panic burned through her body like acid. Only then did she realize that he was mostly using his left hand. Even when he’d pinned Malakai against the wall, it wasn’t his right hand he’d used.

“How did you break it?” she persisted, clinging to the feel of the heat lingering on her side from his touch. Even with twopairs of gloves and her bodysuit separating his skin from hers, it’d felt amazing to be touched by him.

Darien hesitated for a beat before saying, “I used it too much.”

“You used it too much,” she repeated with a quiet scoff. She swallowed the dryness in her mouth, his lie forcing her to forget how happy she was to see him and instead remember how hurt she’d felt last night, when they’d gotten into that argument. When she’d discovered the horrible truth he’d kept from her. “I’m going to have trouble trusting you again if you keep lying, Darien. You already didn’t tell me about your bargain?—”

“I got into a fight with Donovan, and he broke it.”

Loren felt like someone had kicked her in the chest. “Donovan?” she spluttered. “He… He broke your hand?” The bruises she’d noticed on Darien’s face… Gods,Donhad done that to him?—

The ripping of gauze and tape was the only sound for several long seconds, apart from the frantic drumming of her heartbeat.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I know he frightens you,” Darien said. “And becauseI’mthe fighter—I’m supposed to be able to protect you.” Of course he would find a way to shift blame onto himself. A beat of silence as he carefully spread a thin layer of antibiotic ointment across the blistered flesh, his touch soothing. “And I don’t know if I’d be able to protect you from him, if he ever decided to target you.” He flattened the first strip of gauze across her back, followed by several more. They clung to her like garments with static cling, and he taped them down on unbroken skin. “But I’d die trying.”

Several moments of silence went by as he finished tending to her.

“I don’t want you to lie to me anymore,” she whispered into the quiet room, her scalp prickling from the courage it took her to say it.

She didn’t need to be a hellseher to sense the sudden tension rolling off him.

“I don’t lie to you,” Darien said.

But you did,she thought.

Instead she whispered, “Withholding the truth when it’s something that important is just as bad.” She hated how her words trembled on their way out.