by Angie Fox
I started to sit up as the ambulance took a hard left. “Wait.” My head swam and I lay back down, wincing. “Three?”
“Thaïs is hanging in there.”
I swallowed, trying to process it. “I could have sworn he was dead.”
Marius’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “So you didn’t hear him screaming. I neutralized the poison. Now he’s just full of holes.”
Damn Thaïs. He survived while good men died.
“I can assist,” I said, trying once again to sit. My body ached like I’d fought an entire battalion by myself.
“Like hell you will.” Marius held a hand to my back, helping me up. “I’d put you under observation if I thought I could get away with it. You don’t have any physical damage that I can tell, but the Shrouds drained your strength.”
“It wasn’t the Shrouds.” At least I didn’t think so. But we were getting off the subject. “I’m actually feeling better,” I said, sitting on my own. That would show him. I fought a wave of nausea. Oh geez. Who was I kidding? I was a mess. “How did you find us?”
“You were at the checkpoint. As soon as we had full dark, I flew.”
Right. Thank goodness for super-vampire-speed or I would have been toast. I braced my head in my hands. “Thanks, buddy.”
“Don’t suck up,” he said, easing me back down as Galen made another sharp left. “And you owe me a white coat.”
I looked down at the one I’d borrowed. It was spattered with blood.
Marius glanced out the back window. “We’re here.”
The ambulance ground to a halt, and the whole thing rocked as the back doors flew open. Rodger and Kosta pounded in.
“What have we got?” barked Kosta, already examining the immortal on the top bunk.
“Lung function compromised. We’re down to about twenty percent, thoracic hemorrhaging. I neutralized the poison on Thaïs. Arrow wounds near his heart need repair,” Marius said as orderlies scrambled to unhook the stretcher. “Petra was drained, lost consciousness.”
I winced. Fine MD I’d become.
“Get them out of here,” Kosta barked. “Let’s move.”
I grabbed hold of the side of the ambulance and heaved up to my feet. “What can I do?”
Kosta didn’t spare a glance. “Stay out of the way, Robichaud.”
He jumped out, and Galen replaced him, his face a mask of calm concentration mixed with worry. His black special ops uniform was torn and dirty. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
I examined the arm wrapped around me as he led me outside. The chill of the night helped clear my head. “How are you okay?” I’d seen those Shrouds. I knew what they could do.
He huffed. “This is from Jeffe,” he said, poking a finger through a hole in his field jacket. “He stashed me in the minefield.”
Rodger barked commands as orderlies rushed one of the immortals into surgery.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“So am I,” Galen growled. I had a feeling we’d be talking about that later. “Lucky for you, I’m a fast healer.” He steered me past rushing medical workers as we walked through the chaos of the yard. “I used the amulet on the Shrouds,” he said, “drove them into the hell vent.”
I missed a step and almost tripped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you were half out of your mind.” Galen said. “You’re not a god.”
But he didn’t say I shouldn’t have touched it. We both knew I’d had to do it.
“What happened to the Shrouds in the hell vent?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Rustle, rustle, burp. I don’t care. They’re gone.”
I stopped in front of the OR. “I need to help out in surgery.” I might not be on a table, but I could assist. I could hear them working inside—Rodger, Kosta, Horace.
Galen glanced at the closed door. “Let them handle it. They’re good.”
I knew that. I wanted to be a part of it. I squeezed my eyes shut. “This is my one chance to make a difference and I can’t.” I could barely stand up straight.
Surprise skittered across Galen’s face. “You already did.”
Weak bulbs cast pale yellow light over the yard. He tipped my chin up, his thumb caressing my tearstained cheek. “You think the only way to save lives is to be a doctor? It’s not, you know.”
The strength in his voice, the surety of his words made me want to believe him. I could see why people followed this man. He came at the world from a different angle. He acted with complete clarity. It almost seemed effortless in the way he drew the right people behind him at the precise moment to make a difference.
If I was science, he was art.
He’d even motivated a persnickety vampire.
I gave one last, long look at the closed door of the OR. “What else can I do?”
“Come on,” he said, leading me away. “I’ll show you.”
Chapter Nineteen
I shivered as the cold desert breeze blew in from the north. The sleeves of my coat were clammy, wet with the colonel’s blood. My entire body ached.
Galen wrapped an arm around me, avoiding my bad shoulder, as he led me across the yard toward the visiting officers’ quarters. EMTs were already clearing out the back of our battered ambulance, prepping it for next time.
We passed the cluttered bulletin board that gave the latest count on the vacation pot—three weeks, one day, seven hours, and forty minutes.
A loudspeaker crackled above, hanging crookedly on the old dead trunk of a palm tree. I had a new appreciation for whoever had dragged that out of the closest hell vent. And I could have sworn I saw one of Rodger’s sea creatures slink behind the supply tent.
Nothing changed at the MASH 3063rd. That usually drove me nuts. Now it settled into my bones with a familiar comfort, like returning home from a long journey.
My legs were still wobbly, but it wasn’t why I leaned against Galen. The truth was I needed him. I craved the kind of comfort he offered. I rarely allowed myself that type of weakness, but either I had to accept some support, or I was going to give in to a crying fit. Nobody wanted that—least of all me.
“You’re doing great,” he said, tugging me closer.
I let out a slightly crazed laugh. Tonight was the closest I’d ever come to death. Both my own and losing the people I cared about. I’d barely held on. In fact, I hadn’t. I’d collapsed. I’d have been Shroud bait if Galen hadn’t shown up when he did.
And Thaïs. He wasn’t just a grade A ass or a traitor to the cause. Tonight, he’d shown himself to be a homegrown terrorist.
“Thaïs attacked those soldiers,” I said. We’d come in peace. “He had a bomb.”
He’d been struck down. He’d gotten what he deserved.
Still, for as much heartache as he’d caused, I didn’t want to see him die, either.
I almost felt guilty about that after what had happened to Colonel Spiros.
We reached Galen’s tent. The torches outside burned high, illuminating his handsome features in the firelight as he untied the front flaps. “It’s over now,” he said. “You did the best you could. And if Thaïs survives, I’ll kick his ass myself.”
I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. I’d failed tonight. It tugged at me. I should have prevented Thaïs’s insane suicide charge. I should have known. If there was one thing I’d learned in this hole, it was to be aware of the people around me. “There had to be something I missed.”
“Some situations, some creatures you can’t predict,” Galen said. “You just deal with them as they come.” There was rock-hard assurance in his voice, a grim determination that no matter what we’d face—be it scorpions or Shrouds—he’d have my back. He touched my arm. “We’ll get through this.”
“Which part?” I asked, overwhelmed.
He held my gaze. “All of it.”
God, I wished he wouldn’t look at me like that. It was just one more thing that could go wrong.
“I’m a mess,” I said, ducking
inside the tent.
After the events of tonight, the sheer luxury of this place was lost on me. Galen sat me down on a plush purple couch and slipped my white coat off from behind. He wadded it up and tossed it into the kitchen garbage.
“Hey,” I said, in halfhearted protest. Oh, who was I kidding? Marius’s coat was toast.
He squatted in front of me, running his hands up my arms, checking for injuries.
“It wasn’t my blood on the coat,” I said, enduring his methodical search. “I only got kicked around,” I insisted as he ran his hands up my sides, his touch warm against my white tank top.
We were finally alone together, and I felt like death warmed over. My discomfort grew as he lingered on the blossoming purple bruise on my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “That’s not even my blood on my pants.” Although there was quite a bit of it, now that I really looked.
“You can borrow a pair of mine,” he stated, heading for the wardrobe in the bedroom.
“Do you understand how sizes work?” I called after him. He had at least a hundred pounds on me. And he made me feel short, which was saying something.
He came back with a spare uniform and a towel that he stopped to hold under the gurgling fountain. He wrung the fresh, clean water onto the floor as he returned to me.
“Just let me take care of you, okay?”
The muscles in his chest and jaw tightened as he brought the cool cloth up to my cheeks and neck. He cleaned me gently, lingering on my jaw. The pain and the chaos of the night faded away.
He worked slowly, taking extra care with my bruised shoulder. He eased the cloth down my arms. He took my hands in his and wiped the blood away from my palms. Then he ran the cloth over each finger, gently pulling, his head bent as he worked. Every stroke of his fingers spiraled straight through me. It was amazing how he could be such a badass on the battlefield, and so gentle with me.
“You’re staying with me tonight,” he said as if it were fact. As if there was nothing else to it. Shrouds are terrifying. Knives are sharp. And you’re sleeping over tonight.
“It’ll look bad—” I began.
His jaw tightened. “I almost lost you, Petra. It scared the hell out of me.” He glanced up. “I need to know you’re okay tonight.”
I nodded. “All right.”
Chapter Twenty
He let me change in his bedroom, and frankly, I was glad he’d given me one of his special ops uniforms to wear because I’d needed the laugh. The pants could have fit two of me, and the shirt came down to my knees.
“Fashion show!” I announced, throwing back the curtain.
Galen sat eating a bowl of raspberries.
“Very badass.” He chuckled as my grip on the pants slipped and they fell straight down in a heap.
“I get the job done,” I said, stepping out of them, wearing his shirt as a dress.
“You hungry?” he asked, holding out the fruit.
“Tired,” I admitted.
He set the bowl aside. “Come on. Let’s get you under the covers.”
“Still trying to take care of me?” I asked as he tucked me into the big soft bed.
“Consider me your personal immortal warrior,” he said, kicking off his combat boots and snuggling with me under the blankets. “Come here,” he said, tucking my head against his chest.
He was warm and safe, and I tucked my cheek against his chest as he held me close. “This feels nice,” I admitted.
“Yeah, it does,” he said, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” he asked, absently playing with my hair.
There were so many things. “For coming after me tonight. For protecting me. For leading me through this mess.” Before, I’d been hesitant to admit I needed him. But now—for better or worse—I realized I did. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would have done it without me,” he said, with more surety than I’d ever felt. “You would have found a way.” He sat up a fraction and looked down at me. “You’re one of the strongest women I know.”
Bless him for thinking so. “It’s not because I want to be,” I admitted. “It’s because I have to.” I’d been taking care of myself my entire life. “I can’t quit,” I told him, “even if I want to every day.”
“I know,” he said simply. “I want out of this war, too.” His expression grew tight. “When I was stabbed this last time, I knew it was different. I thought it was fatal. It was almost a relief.”
“That’s awful.” I could only imagine the pain he must feel. I wished I could take some of it away.
“Hell, I know,” he said quickly, misunderstanding me. He shook his head, his eyes clouding over with what? Shame? “I shouldn’t even think it.”
“Why?” As far as I was concerned, it was good to get it out.
“It’s treason, you know,” he said, his tone grim as if he could hide his sorrow and his hurt.
“What? To have feelings?” I sat up on an elbow. “To be overwhelmed by death and violence?” It was absurd to expect anything less.
“I should be above that,” he said, steeling himself.
“Nobody is,” I said, shimmying up next to him. I propped myself up on my pillow, resting my head on my arm. “You’re only half god. You don’t have to keep up the shtick all the time.”
“Shtick?” he said, slightly entertained at the word.
“You know what I mean.” For once, I was glad my mother was a selfish, derelict fae. At least she wasn’t a god.
“It’s not about my mother,” he mused.
I gave him the you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look.
“Okay, it is sort of about my mother.” He rolled onto his back. “She got me into this.” He glanced at me. “Do you know how it works?”
I shook my head no.
“She dropped me off at the Abaddon Hell Vent when I was eleven.”
Yikes. “I wasn’t allowed to go to the mall alone when I was eleven.”
“It’s where we used to train back then,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, thinking back. “That’s where I learned to be strong and noble, heroic and true.” He recited the virtues like items on a checklist.
“Those are all good things, you know.”
“I know,” he said, the words hollow.
“I’ll bet she’s proud of you.”
He shifted to face me. “I don’t know. I never saw her again.”
I was shocked, not only at his mother’s callousness, but also at his grim acceptance. It was sad. This was a man who deserved to be loved, not abandoned.
“Maybe you should seek her out.” I had to imagine she’d be proud. “You can show her what you’ve become.”
The thought of it did little to cheer him. “I’m not sure that’s how it works. But sometimes, I think she knows.”
He drew me into his arms, and we held each other tight. He kissed me on the head. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay,” I said. He’d kissed me. On the head. But I’d still let him kiss me.
We lay still for a moment. Then I felt him smile against my hair. “At the risk of being kneed in the balls, I have to congratulate you on the second prophecy coming true.”
I poked him with my pinkie finger instead. “I did arrest those suckers,” I said, letting it sink in. Or at least I’d stopped them. Last time I read a dictionary, arrest was a synonym for stop.
There was no way Kosta or anyone else could have forced that. Spiros dying, the Shrouds breaking free—none of it should have happened. Somehow, the oracle knew.
I studied the arm he’d laid over me, the pure strength of it. Candles flickered. Shadows danced over the walls of the tent. “I’m afraid,” I admitted.
“You should be,” he said against my hair. “Fear forces you to be vigilant, to prepare.” He kissed my shoulder. “Fear keeps you alive.”
“I can’t believe you do this day in and day out.”
He fought on the front lines and watched his men suffer and die.
All this time, I thought I was the one who stood alone. But Galen did, too. He commanded. He inspired. But he had no one to prop him up.
I found myself wanting nothing more than to reach out to him and ease his pain.
“Not quite like tonight,” he said, the muscles in his chest tightening. “That was something new, even for me.”
“Really?” A moment of understanding passed between us.
I couldn’t quite believe that this immortal warrior was here with me. That he’d chosen it.
It was more than I’d ever imagined.
“Petra.” I tilted my chin up as he tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear. “I was missing something before. I have been for years. I didn’t know what it was until I met you.”
His admission filled me with joy, and at the same time, I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know if I could take it, that kind of closeness—that kind of responsibility. “I don’t know what to say.”
He gave me a small smile. “You don’t have to say anything.”
He held me close. I held him back. I felt so warm and safe. Content. And for tonight, that was enough.
I woke to the sound of my stomach growling. The sun was up, and I was alone in Galen’s bedroom.
My watch told me it was past noon.
I wandered out to the living area and found Galen cleaning his knives.
“Hungry?” he asked, setting down the dagger he was working on.
“Don’t tell me you have super hearing as well.”
“I just know what the ladies like,” he teased, as I followed him out to the kitchen.
He opened the fridge to reveal shelves full of meat, cheese, and fruit.
“Ooh…sliced pineapple,” I said, nudging past him.
“We could have fun with that fruit fixation of yours,” he said dryly. He stood with his hip braced against the counter. God, he was beautiful. I felt him down to my toes.
I popped a slice of fresh, tart pineapple into my mouth, enjoying this playful side of him. “At ease, soldier.”
He closed the space between us. “Just so you know, you’re the first person ever—mortal or immortal—to take me prisoner.”
