“Fuck. Can’t you give her something for it?”
“I’ve given her pain meds, but only rest and relaxation will help her recover. I don’t need to tell you that her being held hostage here is not what she needs to feel better. You should take her home. She’d heal faster in her own place.”
I cross my arms. “I can’t exactly return her. Seb hasn’t even had a chance to deliver my ransom message to Stefan yet.”
“Then I think she should come to the clinic with me. We can take better care of her until you work this out.”
My blood runs icy at the thought of her going anywhere without me, and my dragon gives a possessive growl. “She’smine.”
Morwyn frowns, eyes narrowing as his head rolls back on his neck. “Oh shit, Connor. You didn’t… She’s not…”
I clear my throat and hold up a hand. “She’s my responsibility. End of story. The clinic is too risky. The Order will have eyes everywhere. She stays here.”
No way is Morwyn buying that explanation. He sees it. My dragon is putting off mating vibes like pheromones. The set of his shoulders changes, and Morwyn’s finger pokes hard into my sternum. “Look, fucker, I get it. It’s your alignment, and your dragon is calling the shots. But that woman in there is seriously ill. If you’re keeping her here, you better take care of her. And I meanallof her daily needs, asshole. I’ll be stopping in every so often to see how she’s doing. If you so much as think about using her to ease your mating sickness?—”
“Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that. She’s sick.”
“Right. We all know how in control we all are during our alignments.” He quirks an eyebrow.
“Hey! I’m as chill as I need to be. She’s safe with me.”
He studies me for a long moment and then nods. “I believeyoubelieve that, Connor. But do you truly understand how fragile she is?”
“Of course I do.” My words snap out more aggressively than I want them too.
He sighs. “Just keep your little dragon to yourself. Fiona needs food, rest, and for you to do what you can to manage her stress.”
“Got it covered.”
He stands his ground, his hand brushing back the tail of his lab coat to come to rest on his hip. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to let me take her to the clinic? There’s no shame in admitting you need help given the circumstances. During my alignment, I often call in another dragon to?—”
I slash my hand through the air between us. “I’ll. Take. Care. Of. Her. End of discussion.”
He scowls. “Fine,brother.” Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a bottle of pills. “No more than one every twelve hours. Make sure she eats, drinks, and bathes. She’ll need help to the bathroom. Once she’s feeling better, work up to daily walks. Help her sleep if you have to. Your nearness should hasten her recovery.”
“Nearness. Yeah,” I say absently, examining the pills. I’ve never had to take care of anyone before other than Bones, and Zaire helps with most of that. My first instinct is to call my Firetender for help with Fiona too. But no, I want to care for her myself. Mates do that foreach other. “I’ll take care of her,” I promise again, as much for my own benefit as for Morwyn’s.
“Fine.” Morwyn makes a noise deep in his throat, as if he’s resolved on the matter but still doesn’t think it’s the best idea. He turns and strides toward the door. “Get to the Oracle, Connor, so she can talk some sense into your Aries ass.”
Chapter Eight
FIONA
My abductor is in the room again. Connor. He said his name was Connor. He offers me a white oval pill. I recognize it as a drug I’ve taken before to help with pain when I’ve had a flare. He helps me sit up and pops it into my mouth, then raises a glass to my lips. Something herbal but fruity washes over my tongue. Lavender lemonade maybe. For a second I consider he might be drugging me, then realize if he wanted me dead, I’d already be in the ground, and my own body is doing a good enough job keeping me sedated. I drink the entire glass, yelping when his supportive hand hits a sore spot on my back. He lowers me onto the bed with a curse and mumbled apology.
Exhausted, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
The next time I open my eyes, there’s food. He tries to sit me up to feed me, but I can hardly keep my eyes open.Everything hurts. He helps me take another pill and feeds me some fresh bread. Where did he get fresh bread? I swallow and then fall asleep again.
The next time I open my eyes, there’s a giant stuffed dragon next to my head. Despite myself, I laugh. This must be my prize from the prize table. I grab it and hug it to me. I should be trying to escape. I should try to contact Roman. I should…
My eyes open again. He’s carrying me to the bathroom. Sitting me on the toilet. I do what I have to do. He carries me back to bed and gives me another pain pill.
He’s taking good care of me. I guess I’m useless to him dead. I hope Vivian isn’t worried about me. Vivian. Roman. Everyone must be looking for me.
When I open my eyes again, Connor is stretched out next to me in bed. He’s fully dressed, on the outside of the covers, facing me. I watch him sleep for an embarrassingly long time. No one should watch their abductor like that. He truly does look like a Viking. Like Thor. A Nordic god. I’m unnerved by his resemblance to Henrik Angel, quite literally a man plucked from my imagination. He had wings before, but they’re gone now. Did I really see wings or was that a fever dream? I have the unmistakable urge to run my hand along the skin of his arm.
He opens his eyes.
