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The cutsluts areafraid of Lex.

It’s not an abject fear. They don’t whisper about him or scurry off when he’s near. They just… avoid him. In a primal way. These are women who have been around fighters and criminals, men who’d sooner slam a woman up against a wall than actually speak to her. But Lex isn’t like that. He’s tall and sometimes physically imposing, but he doesn’t harness it the way DKS does. It’s not his use of physicality that unnerves them.

It’s the lack of it.

“We’re expecting about two hundred people to come through today, so we’ll need to keep the lines moving.” Lex stands in front of the group of volunteers, looking neither in his element nor out of it. We’ve been here a week, and it’s like the Lex I’ve grown used to doesn’t even exist. This Lex is mechanical and concise, eerie in his stillness.Robotic. It’s as if he’s taken all human emotion out of the equation. “If you have any questions, refer to the pamphlet Forsyth General provided to you. If you see me about to stick a needle into someone, don’t bother me. If yousee me drawing blood, don’t bother me. If you see me having just drawn blood, don’t bother me.” His amber eyes pass over the crowd. “Don’t bother me.”

Greta shivers when his gaze passes over her.

“Not exactly inspiring the community spirit,” I mutter to Maggie, who shakes her head.

“I’m definitely not bothering him.”

Stretching my shirt over my belly, I follow Lavinia over to the table near the front doors of the gym. On a fight night, this is where Fury business takes place, but today, we’ll be checking in donors.

“That shirt is fucking adorable on you,” Lavinia says.

“It’s like three sizes too small.” I tug at the hem of the T-shirt Remy designed for the inter-frat blood drive, trying to keep it from riding up, but it’s useless. The bear on the front is comically distorted, its little crown laboring under the swell of a boob. “I look like one of those badly inflated balloons.”

“They’re ready.”

I look up and see Lex standing over the table, amber eyes fixed on the clipboard in his hand. His hair is pulled up in a neat twist, and unlike everyone else, he’s dressed impeccably in dark, fitted slacks and a crisp white button-down. He’s been on his guard ever since we stepped foot over the boundary line, but even worse since our first night here, when he had that sleepwalking episode.

I hold up a shirt, pouting. “Please?”

He glances up, catching sight of the snarling bear. “No.”

“It’s festive,” I argue. “It’ll put people at ease to see you dressed a little more… er, casually.”

He must sign something, the flourish of the pen tightly contained. “Why would I want to put people at ease?” he wonders, flipping another page on the clipboard. “Tension will make the veins pop.”

I give Lavinia an exasperated look. “Dr. Nightingale over here.”

Lex pointedly ignores the jab. “I hate to admit it, but the gym really is a great place for this.” He’d been concerned, of course, when I’d suggested it. Usually, these things take place over at the hospital, but after the tweaker high on Scratch ruined the party last Christmas, he was open to a new location, one that could be well-guarded. “As long as there are no surprises.”

The gym allows for the various stations required for an event like this. There are curtained-off areas along the back wall with cots and a hospital worker taking the actual blood. Over near the kitchen is the recovery area where Mama commands an army of cutsluts as they organize juice and cookies. Sy and Kaz work the gate, checking for weapons, while Lex oversees the medical logistics, counting donation kits and supplies, and making sure all the blood gets to the refrigerated truck that goes back to the blood bank tomorrow.

Across the room, Rory and Maggie man a table together stacked with flyers I had Pace make with photos and details of each of the missing girls. No one is supposed to leave the gym without a stack to pass out or hang on light posts or shop windows when they leave.

“Mama loves to host a community event,” I assure him.

“Everyone will behave,” Lavinia promises, “I’ve made sure of it.”

But when I lean down to grab the bag we packed this morning, he snaps forward, saying, “Hey, wait.” Lex walks around the table and grabs the bag himself, resting his other hand on my belly. “Don’t overexert yourself, okay? No heavy lifting. No standing around for more than a few minutes at a time. Got it?”

I’m so happy to see this brief flash ofmyLex that I don’t even roll my eyes. “I’ve got it,” I assure, grinning.

Reaching into the bag, he pulls out a bottle of water. “Stay hydrated.”

“She’s in good hands, Doc,” Lav says, obviously taking pity on me. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He frowns, not convinced, but when his finger nudges my chin, forcing my gaze to his, I get stunned stupid at the flash of warmth. “One last thing,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders and spinning me around. He reaches for a roll of tape on the table and Lavinia’s eyebrows lift in question. I shrug, also confused, until I hear the sound of tape ripping off the roll, and feel him lay the long strip across my shoulder blades. The firm press of a pen follows as he writes on the tape.

“There,” he says smugly, dipping down to brush his lips against my cheek. “My woman. My baby. My name.”

I swallow in understanding. He’d just marked me for everyone to see.

“And for what it’s worth, you make that hideous shirt look gorgeous.”