"If I have to stay here much longer, I'm going to lose my mind," I muttered, more to myself than to Nitro.
His leg bounced restlessly, and I wondered what he was feeling.Did he hate being stuck in here with me?All the DemonX Alphas were used to living unrestrained. It must be difficult to spend so many hours inside.
The quiet scrape of metal against wood continued, Nitro’s large hands moving with unmatched dexterity as they worked the small piece. His expert handling of the knife wasn’t surprising—the man should have been born with blades for fingers—yet it was still fascinating to watch him. He seemed to know exactly how he should carve the aspen, drawing out hidden shapes most people couldn’t see. Whatever he was making right now, he’d said it was for me.
"You really won’t tell me what you’re making?" I’d already asked a few times.
His lips twitched upward at one corner, eyes never leaving his work.
"You'll see," he answered, the same response he'd given every single time.
I laid back against the pillows, watching the play of expressions across his face. When he concentrated like this, Nitro transformed. The sarcastic boundary pusher faded, giving way to someone softer and more approachable. His auburn hair fell across his forehead as he bent over his work, and my fingers itched to reach out and brush it back. Right now, he was an Alpha I didn’t have to be scared around, an Alpha I could see in my future.
When a soft knock sounded on the door, Nitro's movements were swift and practiced. The knife disappeared into his boot, and the small carving vanished into his jacket pocket before the door even began to open. His leg stopped bouncing, and his expression shifted to one of guarded neutrality.
My surgeon entered, flanked by two nurses I recognized from previous visits. Doctor Leonard, a white-haired Beta with kind eyes behind old school, wire-rimmed glasses, approached with a clipboard in hand. The other younger doctors carried tablets, but my surgeon said he was a purist. I didn’t like that I was beginning to recognize the faculty here, even growingcomfortable with a few of them. I didn’t want to return to a life where my closest friends only existed to keep me alive.
No, that won’t happen.I told myself confidently.Things are different now. I have people outside this building that care about me.
It didn’t taste like a lie when I thought it, even though I was only guessing that the men had changed their minds about me. If they hadn’t, then they were world class actors. Xander’s protectiveness. Asher’s look of wonderment. Nitro’s quiet dedication to whatever he was apparently making for me. Fallon… I hadn’t gotten a read on him yet. And each time Kane was here, he couldn’t stop talking about cars. I wasn’t sure what that was about.
"Good afternoon, Miss Graves. How are we feeling today?” The surgeon’s gaze was appraising, roving over my body.
“Fine,” I lied automatically, the response almost a knee-jerk reaction.
I’d spent so much of my life pretending I wasn’t sick, especially when my parents were around.Put on a brave face, Lucy. They’ll visit more if you don’t make them sad, Lucy. Maybe they’ll let you outside if you seem healthier, Lucy.As the years passed, I continued to lie out of habit, not because I truly believed it would gain me anything.
“Good, good.” Doctor Leonard handed one of the nurses his clipboard, then walked over to the sink area to grab a pair of purple gloves. “Would you like your male friend to leave?”
I glanced at Nitro, who was staring daggers at the doctor’s back.
“No, I’d like him to stay,” I said quickly. Nitro’s eyes darted to mine, his face softening.
“As you wish. Let's take a look, shall we?” The doctor turned around and strode over to me.
Before he could ask, I pushed the sheet and blanket down to gather around my hips and then I pulled the hospital gown up, exposing my abdomen. An angry red line traversed my pale skin, held together with neat black stitches.
I winced as his latex-covered fingers pressed gently around the edges of the wound. It still hurt more than I wanted to admit.
"Hmm," Doctor Leonard murmured, turning to the nurses. "We need to change the dressing more frequently. There’s moderate pulling too. No separation yet thankfully."
Both nurses nodded, one of them making notes as he continued his examination.
"Have you been moving more than recommended, Miss Graves?” he asked, pointing to an area that looked particularly inflamed.
I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I get restless."
"I understand, but separation could lead to wound dehiscence if you're not careful." His clinical tone triggered a cascade of memories I’d rather forget. Warnings about worsening health. Waiting for clearance to walk more than a few feet at a time. Wanting desperately to have one good day after a string of miserable ones.
The doctor turned to the nurses, giving me his back. I hated when doctors did that. "I’ll prescribe a different antibiotic, and we'll need to keep a close watch on that area. If it doesn't improve, we might have to consider a wound vac.”
The nurses continued nodding. One writing. Both hanging on every word so they could attend to the patient. Me, again. In a hospital bed.
“We’re keeping up with her additional medications from the Eros Institute, yes?” He glanced back at me for a heartbeat.
“We are,” the nurse who wasn’t writing answered.
“Good, good,” he was bobbing his head now, satisfied. “I read over her file, and it’s remarkable that she’s not still institutionalized. The Institute truly is cutting edge.”
