“Easy, killer.” Zane kept feeding the pup chicken broth. “Save the murder boner for whoever did this.”
I glanced at him, catching a glimpse of his grim expression before it morphed into his usual smirk.
So hedidunderstand what starvation and infection meant.
The girl chose that moment to move, golden curls catching the lamplight. My throat tightened as I waited for something.Anything.
Then the pup whined. So quiet I almost missed it. It was the same sound my heart made when her lashes fluttered. A pained whimper, and my breath hitched.
Zane froze.
“She waking up?”
“Breathing changed forty seconds ago.” I leaned closer. “Play nice.”
“Me? Always.”
He set the broth bowl back on the tray, and together we watched and waited. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. We just waited.
Then the door exploded inward. Casimir’s combat boots sent the pup’s water bowl skittering across the floor. He wheeled in our med kit, a footlocker-sized suitcase filled with enough supplies to make a triage nurse swoon.
“Move, Z,” he gritted out. “Now.”
“Drama queen entrance at twelve o’clock.” Zane scooped the pup to his chest and stepped aside.
“Easy.” I blocked Cas’ lunge toward the bed. “She’s coming around.”
“She could have broken bones, internal damage. Her ankle alone—”
“Will wait ninety moon-damned seconds.” My palm met his sternum. “You’ll scare her.”
Cas’ nostrils flared. Behind him, the wall clock ticked three times before he stepped back, fingers twitching toward the girl’s swollen ankle. Turning, he hefted the med kit up onto the dresser with a thud that echoed in the silence, and I could see his green eyes scanning her injuries, calculating the best course of action.
“Fine.” His voice cracked. “Ninety seconds. I’m counting.”
The pup yipped, and we both turned.
Zane stood with the wolf under his arm like a football, the pup’s legs dangling halfway to the floor, as he stared at our beloved, his gaze willing her to wake up and say something. Unfortunately, she only cracked her eyes open for a second, their gray depths blurry with pain, before letting out a little sigh and falling back to sleep.
“There. Satisfied? Now strip her,” Cas barked.
“The hell we will,” I growled back, standing between him and her.
“Full assessment requires full access.” He swiveled to the dresser, then spun back with enough gauze to mummify a rhino.
“She’s not one of your fang-rotted anatomy diagrams,” I snarled. “You want to play field medic? Earn her trust first.”
“Infection doesn’t wait for permission slips.” Cas snapped a pair of shears in my face. “Jeans first. We need to check her—”
“Over my dead body.”
“Koala Bear,” Z broke in, “the girl’s sporting more bloodstains than a Tarantino flick. You wanna play peek-a-boo with her spleen?”
He was being dramatic as usual. The only blood was on her left sleeve and on her jeans by her knee.
Every instinct saidprotect, but logic whisperedheal. Compromise tasted like ash.
“Bra and panties stay,” I rumbled at last. “Bikinis show more, so it’s not completely invading her privacy.”
