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The reference to my work with Apex makes me flinch. His skin alters in response—adding another data point to my growing collection of observations about his chromatic responses. Their color-changing properties fascinate the scientist in me, even as memories of what Apex planned to do with such abilities turn my stomach.

“How much did they…” The question sticks in my throat as I shudder at the idea that I may have told them things that would help them in their pursuit of capturing and torturing cryptids like Dante.

“Get from you?” His voice gentles and his eyes soften. “Not enough to matter. Your warning helped us prepare. I’ve been poring over the data we retrieved from the thumb drive you managed to get to us a few days ago. From what it looks like, the data shows you didn’t say much even though they kept increasing your medications and tor—” He cuts himself off, and his red gaze shies from mine. Interesting how a male who looks so devilish is squeamish about saying the word “torture.”

He deflects when things get personal. Classic avoidance. I’ll have to start a proper spreadsheet the moment I get access to a computer.

“I was just trying to right some wrongs.” My voice catches as fragments of memory surface. My hands reflexively clench and unclench, a habit formed during years of training I’d rather forget.

“When I found those military contracts, uncovered what they really planned to do with your abilities…”

My stomach rebels, though it’s empty. His fingers twitch as if to reach out, then they pause. The restraint in the gesture catches my attention. He respects my space while staying close enough to help if needed.

“We don’t have to talk about that now… or ever. The data you provided will save countless lives.” His voice carries that mix of genuine concern and carefully measured distance that makes something flutter in my chest. Completely inappropriate response, I note, requiring further analysis.

I close my eyes and allow myself to breathe deeply, letting the gravelly sound of his voice and his unique scent calm my racing thoughts. Then I mentally scold myself for such an emotional reaction. Data. Focus on data.

“How’s your head?” The question comes with careful neutrality. “They had you pretty heavily sedated.”

I run a quick internal diagnostic. “Residual grogginess, mild disorientation. Nothing concerning given the probable combination of benzodiazepines and—” Catching his raised eyebrow, I clear my throat. “I’m fine.”

“You know, most people don’t analyze their symptoms quite so…” His lips twitch, and he finishes, “Thoroughly.”

“Most people aren’t biochemists.” My automatic defense makes him chuckle, the sound unexpectedly warm.

“Point taken, Doc.” The nickname should annoy me. I would never allow it in my lab. Instead, my chest warms at the hint of affection in his tone. I’ve never had a nickname before. Later, I’ll examine why that pleases me. Dangerous territory.Focus on facts,Blair,data, things I can quantify.

“Where exactly am I?” Crystal clusters pulse with soft light, their resonance patterns suggesting some form of energy conductivity that demands investigation.

“Somewhere safe.” His tail curls in what I’m beginning to recognize as amusement. “Cryptid mountain. I have no idea how we’ve managed to evade all of Apex’s efforts to locate us, but as far as I know, our location is still a mystery to them.”

My thoughts fly with a thousand questions as I realize I’m now technically a fugitive. “Where will I go? How will I make a living? I only have the clothes on my back. I—”

He gently places his warm hand, claws carefully retracted, on my arm just long enough to interrupt my spiral of desperate worries.

“You deserve to rest and recover. Anything else can wait until you’re stronger.” His reassurance carries steel beneath the drawl.

“I’m perfectly capable of—” Trying to sit up proves him right as the room spins lazily.

Strong, warm hands ease me back against the pillows. “You were saying?”

“This is temporary.” But exhaustion drags at my limbs even as my mind races with questions. “The sedatives will metabolize within 24-48 hours, depending on…”

“Sleep, Doc.” His voice rumbles with something that might be fondness. “The biochemistry lesson can wait.”

I want to argue, to demandanswers about what happens next. But my treacherous body is already responding to his suggestion, eyelids growing heavy. The last thing I register is the gentle brush of his wing on my cheek, barely there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. Like his careful distance, the gesture reveals more than he probably intends.

Questions can wait. For now, there’s safety in this strange place with its crystal lights and a Jersey Devil who tries so hard to mask kindness with sarcasm.

Chapter Three

Dante

"She's analyzing her blood work again." Volt's thunderous voice carries amusement as he lands beside me on the mountain ledge overlooking the Colorado valley. "Third time today."

Electricity dances between his golden feathers as I watch my friend settle his massive form. The Thunderbird makes our outcropping look small, his wingspan easily twice mine. "Let me guess—she's documenting the metabolization rates of every compound Apex pumped into her system."

Something warm and unwelcome stirs in my chest. Three days since the rescue, and Blair's turned her recovery room into a one-woman research station. "How's Riven holding up with his new human? Still doing that glowy-wing thing whenever she touches him?"