PRETTY ISN’T PERFECT
THEY’D JUSTmade it to their bedroom door when Nero walked down the hall. For such a big guy, he moved pretty fast, but even so, Bruce could see the weariness in his walk, not to mention the livid bruise that still covered half his face.
“Bruce,” Nero said, “Wulfric wants to talk to you. That bedroom.” He pointed to the room down the hall.
Laddin stiffened. “About what?” His tone rang with hostile challenge.
“About whatever the fuck he wants. He’s the boss.” Nero didn’t like being questioned, and his tone made that absolutely clear. But Laddin didn’t back down. He was exhausted, reeling, and could barely stand on his feet, but he was ready to fight Nero for Bruce.
And didn’t that warm Bruce’s heart? And cock.
But he couldn’t let Laddin commit career suicide either, so he squeezed the guy’s arm. “I wanted to check on Wulfric’s wounds anyway.”
“He doesn’t have any wounds,” Nero said. “The cleric healed him.”
“Then why’s he still in bed?” Bruce asked. If he knew anything about men of action, it was that healed leaders didn’t hide in a bedroom away from central command. That told him that something wasn’t going well for Wulfric.
To his credit, Nero didn’t bluster. Instead his expression grew taut with worry. “Yeah. So go check him out, will you?” His eyes hardened on Laddin. “And you, get some rest. You’re so strung out, you’ve forgotten that you’re not in charge.”
Laddin flushed at the hit but didn’t back down. “I haven’t signed on for the full tour, you know,” he said grumpily.
“But you are on through the next full moon,puppy. So I suggest you get your ass to bed.”
Bruce wanted to help Laddin out. The guy was defending him, after all. But Wulf, Inc. was a quasimilitary organization. Laddin needed to understand chain of command if he was going to work inside its ranks, and Bruce wouldn’t do him any favors by interfering with that lesson. Though he did give Laddin a smile.
“I’ll be fine. And he’s right—you’re dead on your feet.”
Laddin gave in because he was smart enough to realize he wasn’t going to win, but he still shot Nero an angry look. Then he turned back to Bruce. “Fine. Check out Wulfric, but don’t take too long. I’m still your trainer, and we’ve got things to work out.”
“Roger that,” Bruce answered. There was nothing like being the new guy who got ordered around by everybody. He even knew that Laddin was doing it out of concern, but it had been a long time since he’d been the probie everybody pushed around. He hadn’t liked it then, and he didn’t appreciate it now, but he knew enough to let it go, so he headed toward Wulfric’s room.
What he saw when he stepped into the bedroom stopped him cold. If this was what Nero called “healed,” then Wulf, Inc. was in desperate need of medical personnel. And people with eyes.
Wulfric lay on his bed, barely moving. His long legs stretched out beneath a thin blanket, his sunken chest barely moved, and his face still looked as if it had been used as a basketball in an NBA game.
Then Nero stepped into the room and suddenly Bruce’s vision went wonky. Superimposed over that very ill man on the bed was the exact same guy, only healthy and vibrant. His eyes sparkled, his skin looked golden brown, and his face was movie-worthy for rugged man-of-adventure roles. And it was all a total illusion.
“This is Bruce Collier,” Nero said. “He helped us get you into the house. Feel free to beat the crap out of him for me if you like. I can make you something better for lunch while you do it. Want a steak?” He gestured to the uneaten sandwich on a tray by the bed.
Bruce stared at Nero and realized the man didn’t see the truth beneath the illusion. Wulfric wasn’t up to beating up an egg, much less a man. And he couldn’t eat a sandwich, steak, or anything that required chewing. His face was too swollen for that.
“No, thanks,” Wulfric said, his voice weak. “I’m not hungry.”
Nero frowned. “You don’t sound so good. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m doing fine—”
“But I could use some bone broth,” Bruce interrupted. “Or a smoothie. Even a sports drink would be great. And bring a straw, please. It’s the only way I can get it down.” He flashed Nero a weak smile. “It’s been a hard couple days, and my stomach is still feeling unsettled.”
Nero gave him a hard glare, but Bruce didn’t flinch. Then, because he was feeling pissy, he added an extra kicker.
“Laddin will never forgive you if you let me pass out from low blood sugar. And unless I miss my guess, you really need to make nice with the only paramedic around.”
He watched the muscle in Nero’s jaw twitch. The man didn’t like taking orders from anyone, but he didn’t argue, especially when Wulfric chimed in.
“That sounds delicious. Would you mind getting one for me too?”
Nero might tell Bruce to go get his own fucking drink, but he wouldn’t say that to Wulfric. So he gave his boss a clipped nod and stepped out. Bruce thought he’d slam the bedroom door, but he wasn’t that petty. Nero probably knew something was off with Wulfric, but he didn’t want to call out the mystical head of Wulf, Inc.
