“I need to know what I can manage.”
“You need to not make it worse.”
What he needed, more than anything, was to be able to get Leon out of here if things went bad. Leon wouldn’t leave him, which meant Karlhadto be able to move. He shook Leon off, clenched his jaw and tried again, shifting his weight more slowly this time. The pain flared, but the leg held. He took one small step. Then another. Leon hovered beside him like a protective shadow, arms half-raised, ready to catch.
By the time Karl had completed a full, limping circuit of the room, sweat was slick on his brow and his breath came fast and shallow. His ribs ached, and his thigh was on fire, but he’d done it.
Leon guided him gently down onto the bed and pulled the covers back over his legs with infuriating tenderness.
They both knew what that walk had told them. Karl wasn’t ready. And they didn’t have time. He met Leon’s gaze, the frustration in his chest easing slightly at what he saw there—not pity, but understanding. They were in this together, for however long they had.
Leon retrieved the second bowl from the table, and brought it over with a spoon. “Breakfast.”
Karl eyed the congealed gray sludge with deep mistrust. “That’syourbreakfast.”
“I don’t need it. You do.”
Damn cat. When did he start being the voice of reason? Because he was right. Karl’s body needed sleep more than anything else to heal, but fuel would help speed things along. His continued weakness worried him.
Actually, if he were completely honest, it scared him. He’d been injured before, but he’d never been this weak for this long. Must have been a doozy of an infection his body was still fighting—he could feel his pulse was still too fast, he was still too warm. Maybe, if he did that honesty thing again, which he was learning to loathe, he’d been… not at his best before he got hurt. Exhausted, stressed, and not always eating.
Leon handed him the bowl. “Eat. Just pretend it’s food.”
Karl forced down a few bites, chewing with the enthusiasm of someone consuming wet cardboard.
After a moment, Leon said lightly, “You know, you’re kind of a marshmallow.”
Karl turned his head, incredulous. “Excuse me?”
Leon looked far too pleased with himself, and Karl was going to need to learn not to react to his provocations, because that damn cat loved it.
“I saw you with the pup. You’re supposed to be this terrifying wolf, hypercompetent with nerves of steel, and there you were, being gently mauled by a baby. Andsmiling.”
Karl tried to scowl. “I did not smile.”
“Oh, you smiled.” Leon shifted to sit beside him on the bed, shoulder to shoulder. “All warm and gooey on the inside. Hidden beneath seventeen layers of sarcasm, brooding, and threat.”
“I will feed you this bowl.”
Leon grinned. “Threats, marshmallow. Not fooling anyone.”
Karl grunted, but didn’t push him away. Especially not when Leon leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“You scared me before,” Leon murmured. “Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll try to schedule my injuries around your emotional needs,” Karl said dryly.
Leon smacked his shoulder gently. “Do that.”
An easy silence settled between them as Karl forced himself to finish the oatmeal, handing Leon the empty bowl. He bent over to place it on the floor, then stretched on top of the covers, like a cat, folding his arms behind his head. Which just happened to show off his body. Not that Karl noticed.
“Sleep,” he said to Karl. “Heal. I’ll stay on watch.”
Karl didn’t sleep when there were threats. He never had. Yet he knew he could trust Leon. Trust his word, and his abilities.
He lay back down and willed himself to sleep. Duty demanded it. Yet somehow, when the soft edges of sleep found him, Leon’s warmth close beside him meant he forgot duty, forgot everything except an unfamiliar feeling of peace.
Chapter Twenty-nine
