The stairs were a nightmare, each step making his vision blur and nausea rise in his damaged throat. By the time they reached the second floor, he was operating on pure stubbornness and the knowledge that if he passed out, Mattie and Anil would have to carry him, and he wasn't sure they could.
His room was a slight improvement over a prison cell, with a narrow bed, a tiny desk, and a small, attached bathroom, but right now it felt like salvation.
Once Mattie and Anil deposited him on the bed, he just lay there, breathing hard like a fish out of water. Mattie searched his bathroom for the first aid kit while Anil hovered near the door, looking torn between wanting to help and wanting to retire for the night.
"You should go," Dimitri told him.
"I'll wait for Mattie. I don't want her to walk back to the hotel alone."
Mattie emerged from the bathroom with the first aid kit and a wet towel. "I'm staying here tonight." She sat down on the edge of the bed and began cleaning the blood from his neck. "Someone has to keep an eye on Dimitri." She smiled at Anil. "You can go. I'll see you tomorrow."
He looked conflicted, but only for a short moment. Then he nodded. "Well, good night. I hope you're good as new by tomorrow."
"Thanks," Dimitri said. "I hope so too. I'm not looking forward to wearing a scarf in the heat."
Anil smiled and asked, "Do I just walk out the front door?"
"Yes. It will lock behind you."
After Anil left, Mattie took out several bandages from the kit and began wrapping them around his neck. He watched her face while she worked—the furrow of concentration between her brows, the way she bit her lower lip when she was focused.
"Thank you for saving me," she said softly. "It was very brave of you."
"I didn't think. I saw him forcing himself on you and reacted on instinct."
She arched a brow. "Was it instinct that caused you to fill up a syringe with poison and carry it around in your pocket?"
"It was instinct," he confirmed. "I must be a little clairvoyant because just yesterday I was thinking that I can't protect you from those leering immortals. I'm a powerless human without a weapon. That was when I resolved to equip myself with a weapon of my own making. I made a neurotoxin that was supposed to be strong enough to stop an immortal in his tracks, but apparently I miscalculated, which is embarrassing. I've worked with these immortals long enough to know everything there is to know about their tolerance thresholds."
"Maybe you were rushing it?"
He turned on his side and smiled. "I might have. I was also a little preoccupied."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. I kept thinking about seeing you again tonight, and I was willing for time to go faster."
She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "Because of me, you almost died tonight."
"Almost doesn't count. I'm here, you're here, and those immortals are not going to bother you again."
"Says who?"
"Says I. They are obviously afraid to harm me because I'm important to their boss, and I will protect you. I will improve the toxin so it acts immediately, and I will give you syringes so you can protect yourself."
Mattie closed her eyes. "That's sweet of you, but we both know that it won't help. Even if I had ten syringes on me, I would have been helpless against those barbarians. Women are defenseless on this godforsaken island."
She was right, and he didn't have an answer for her. "I wish I could come up with something that will make you repulsive to them."
Her eyes widened. "Like a bad body odor?"
He laughed. "Something better. Something that will hurt them if they try to touch you."
"Is there a thing like that?"
"Not yet, but I will try to think of something. Maybe my boss will help me come up with ideas."
She arched a brow. "The drunkard?"
