I nod against him, embarrassed, but not pulling away.
“And,” he adds, lips brushing the top of my hair, “I sort of bulldozed my way right into your life, huh?”
A shaky breath leaves me. “Kind of.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, tightening his arms around me. “I know I’m a lot, baby. Loud, blunt, over-the-top, bossy as fuck. I show up like a storm and just… stay.”
He leans back enough to look down at me, but not enough to let me go.
“But I also know,” he says softly, “that you’re strong enough to handle me.”
My throat goes tight.
“You’re not a wuss,” he continues. “You’re overwhelmed. You’re scared. You’re exhausted. And you’re still standing upright.” He taps my chest lightly. “Which we both know is not something you do very well in my presence. You’re always falling into my arms… dramatically, I might add.”
I huff and smack his chest.
“It’s called fainting,” I correct. “And it’s not my fault you’re always in the room when I have a spell.”
“Iam,” he says, suddenly serious. His hand slides to my jaw, forcing eye contact. “As a matter of fact, from now on, you’re only allowed to faint if I’m in the room.”
“I can’t control when my body shuts down,” I laugh, stepping back when he loosens his arms.
“Well, you’re gonna have to learn how, baby,” he says, brow raised like he’s giving a decree from the heavens. “I don’t think my poor soul can handle another shock like seeing you on the floor again.”
“Alright,” I roll my eyes. “I’ll try my best to only faint when you’re in the room. Unrealistic as that may seem.”
“Good.” He nods, firm and satisfied, like we just signed a treaty. Then he turns his head. “Now…Spike. Since you like things all formal and shit, I need toformallyrequest permission to kill a Shadow for pissing me the fuck off.”
“Denied,” Spike sighs, already sounding exhausted. “He’s out cold, and I think he learned his lesson.”
“What Shadow are we killing?” Knuckles asks as he strolls into the room and nearly trips over Mike’s unconscious body. He nudges him with his boot. “Hmm. Is he dead?”
“No,” Spike sighs again.
“Does he need to be?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Skip growls. “But my request has been denied. So I’ll just punch him in the face every chance I get.”
Spike doesn’t even argue…just pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s aged ten years in ten minutes.
But when he glances in my direction, he winks. And for some reason… that makes me smile.
“Come here, woman,” Spike murmurs, pulling Riley into his arms. “Patch will be here tomorrow. He wants to set up a medical unit down here.”
“Not a bad idea,” Skip says. “Surprised he hasn’t done it already.”
“Who’s Patch?” I ask.
“Oh, he looks like the embodiment of death,” Abby says cheerfully. “But he’s funny. And kind. And terrifying. In a comforting way.”
“Only to those who deserve his loyalty,” Skip adds. “That man can turn his medical training into interrogation tactics. One scalpel and he’ll have all your organs on the table while calmly asking you to describe what the pain feels like.”
“And if he doesn’t like your answer,” Knuckles says helpfully, “he’ll put everything back, sew you up, and find a new spot to start over.”
I blink. “You guys talk about violence like it’s a pizza topping.”
