Nate wilted against the door. But anger steadied him. Alden had no right to tell him what to do—not now. Not ever. “I can save him.”
Alden’s expression went blank before spots of color rose on his cheeks, splotchy and ugly. “No.”
“I can feed him. They’re patching him up. If I feed him, he’ll live. I know it.” It didn’t matter that Nate might not survive doing it. “I can make him strong.”
“We had a deal,” Alden said slowly. He bracketed Nate against the door with trembling arms and leaned in, his hair forming a dark curtain around both their faces. “The deal was, you don’t share. Not with your whore boyfriend, not with anyone.”
“I’ll come twice a week. Or more. I’ll come whenever you need me.” Desperation thinned Nate’s voice. He grasped for leverage—bluffed. “I’ll let you feed me to your clients.”
Alden shuddered and gave a quick shake of his head. “Nate.”
They both knew he had nothing to offer. Not really. He couldn’t risk feeding Alden again. And Alden would never expose what he was to a stranger.
Reed was going to die.
“Alden, please.” Nate’s head fell against Alden’s arm. He blinked, and the anger sapped out of him. Tears skipped down his cheeks. “I. . .theyneed him. I can save him.”
For a long moment, Alden held very still. But his eyes darted, searching Nate’s face. “Whenever I need you?” he asked, breath tickling Nate’s skin. It was a wish. Nothing more. “You swear on it?”
“I swear. I swear it, Alden.”
Alden straightened and tucked his hair behind each ear. “On top of all of this outrage, you expect to take my Diffuser out of my shop?”
“You can come with me if you don’t want it out of your sight,” Nate said, dizzy with hope. Alden was going along with it.
He was so close now—he could make Reed better.
“Skip along on a dashing rescue to save your boyfriend? I think I’ll go back to bed.” Alden yawned dismissively, but his eyes glittered. Both of them knew he wouldn’t leave the shop. Even for this. “You can borrow my Diffuser. If you crack it, I’ll sell you to the Breakers.”
Nate didn’t believe the threat, but it didn’t seem like a good time to say that.
As Alden went to get the Diffuser from its hiding place, Nate slid down the door, trembling. Each passing second wound him tighter. Reed was bleeding and dying.
If I don’t get back fast enough. . .
“You’re in over your sweet head.” Alden handed Nate the small, velvet-lined box that contained the whirring glass Diffuser. It was genuine biotech from Gathos City. Even Nate, with his affinity for tinkering, had no idea how it worked. It was priceless.
People would give Alden anything for good chem.
“I’ll bring it back. First thing tomorrow.” Nate clutched the box to his belly.
“Listen to me.” Alden grabbed Nate’s wrist, his grip strong—painful. “Don’t feed him for long. I don’t care how bad he’s hurt. No more than thirty counts. That’s it.”
“All right,” Nate snapped, impatient with Alden’s greed. This was no time to quibble over Reed getting more.
Alden helped Nate to his feet and held him close, his palm splayed against Nate’s back. “What’s your dear Reed going to say when he finds out what you are?”
“He won’t know,” Nate said. “He’ll sleep through it.”
“And his gang? You don’t think they’ll tell?”
Nate flinched.
“Oh, by the Old Gods’ balls. One of them already knows? This is such an exciting morning.” Alden released Nate with a gentle shove. “You should bring your special friend by. We can get acquainted.”
“She’s a little kid. She’ll never know you. I’d slit her throat before she sees this,” he said, gesturing around the shop. “Or you.”
“Don’t be ugly, Natey. You know I’d never harm a hair on a child’s head.” Alden took Nate by the chin and searched his face like he was memorizing every bruise. “Now run along, before you’ve nothing to run to at all.”
