“She’ll need clothes,” Sass insists, an apology in her eyes when she carefully extracts the needle. She tugs me to my feet. Pain radiates around my ankles, and the sound that climbs out of my throat is strange. I wobble until I can rest my shoulder against the wall.
“I bought you some time last night, you know,” she insists, circling me to inspect the sore flesh. Does she think buying me time will make up for killing me slowly now? “He was on the warpath already, but I calmed him down. Swore that it wasn’t your fault what these Thur do.” She sucks her teeth, prodding at the numb, swollen flesh. “He blamed you for the product and the cameras even though the Thur paid the bill. You know how he gets already. Then you just had to get mixed up with them again for a second night in a row?”
Jack storms back into the room with a bundle and shoves it in my face before heading back into the hall.
“Are you working with them, Devi?” Sass asks when we’re alone again, rounding on me to pull out the shirt from the bundle.
“Who?” I croak, finding it hard to keep track of this conversation. The extra rapi-dose is making my head spin. My back is stinging. My ankles throb. But it’s the way my mind is moving in and out of focus that has me worried. When she switches to the pants, I nearly topple over. I might not feel the pain properly, but I can’t fake the instability. She has to hold my weight while I lift each foot.
“Those Thur, Deviera, come on. You can’t be this thick in the head.” She unceremoniously shoves the fabric over my sore back like she doesn’t care about the blood. “You working with them? For them? Whatever you want to call it.”
“Working with them? No,” I snort. I don’t feel like myself. “Dreaming about them? Maybe.”
“The hell—”
“Gotta go now,” Donovil shouts suddenly as he jerks me through the door, sending hot lashes through my body. My right ankle folds completely, and he has to haul me upright. The rapi-dose is probably the only thing that keeps me from screaming as I’m shoved through the halls. From one blink to the next, we’re at the back loading door. Why are we here instead of the staff back exit? He wants me to go out of the one that lets out onto the sketchy-ass alley?
Donovil doesn’t stop, and each harsh step on my ankles makes my eyes water until they’re spilling over.
Once we’re far enough away, his hands are gentle, carefully guiding me outside into the winter air. “Come on, Devi, you only got a little further. We both know you don’t wanna be here when Jack opens that door.”
“I’m not wearing a coat,” I murmur, watching the alley sway. The cold air feels gritty and sharp on my face. My lip stings worse.
“Shit, all’s I got is this jacket,” he hisses, the sound of fabric shuffling before something barely more than a sweater is perched on my shoulders. “How many blocks to your place? I can walk you.”
I don’t answer. Donovil’s not a bad guy. A little spineless, but he didn’t have to give me his jacket. So, I’ll try not to hold tonight against him. Still not telling him how to get to my place.
“That’s—” my words falter as I take another step and splash. The alley puddle soaks my foot. It takes two blinks to register it and look down. “I don’t have shoes?” I ask as I spin to face him. Donovil looks down, too, and his expression pinches. He looks around. Of course, I don’t have shoes. Jack either wrenched those heels off, or I toppled out of them. My ankles are clearly sprained. Donovil steps forward and wraps an arm protectively around my shoulders, making me wince at the pressure. He drags me a step further from the door.
“I wish I had something… maybe there’s some socks?” He leans down near my face like he wants to see me clearer and it makes my skin crawl. Not a bad guy, but not the right one, I think uselessly. I need… cold and heat… and the bitter scent of something… My skin prickles. My eyes follow suit.
I don’t understand the sudden urge to growl and push him off me, to tell him to keep his cheap cologne away from me, but it rises like a wave. He drags me another step. I’m about to shove away when the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
“Remove your arm before I remove it for you,” a distinctly deep, altered voice says. Donovil’s body turns rigid as he complies without a sound. He backs up, his arm thumping like a brick against his leg. His face is completely blank. He has an erection that I didn’t notice when we were standing close. It makes my stomach roil.
“Turn around and return to your boss like a good little errand boy. Tell him you did what he asked—” *throwing a barefoot defenseless woman out into the cold* the voice mutters to himself before continuing— “and tell the fucker to open the door for us.”
His voice is just as compelling as it was when he made me stay on my knees two nights ago. *Selk*. But this time, it’s directed at Donovil instead of me, so I only feel the shuddering sensation of his words rubbing against my ear.
“Oh,” Selk says conversationally like it’s nothing at all, “And tell Jack exactly what you were planning to do with his little ward here.”
Fuck, he’s so close to my back that the chill almost burns. The sensation feels right. Too right. And now I have the sudden urge to lean back into him. To curl against his chin… He just needs to touch me, soothe me. I shake my head because what the hell?
This is why rapi-doses have guidelines. Too much, and it turns the brain soft right before it shuts everything down.
Donovil bustles back inside so fast that the only sound is the door slamming shut. I blink, sway. Swallow loud enough to echo. I wait on pained ankles as Selkin slowly rounds my body. Whatever teasing smirk he planned to throw my way dies almost as fast as his growl rises when he spots my face. His pupils dilate and then shrink until the silver glows. His gaze traces everything, stopping on my split lip. Hovers over the strange, badly fitting clothes and thin jacket like he imagines what mess he’ll find beneath.
He steps up so quickly that I tuck my toes, but his boots don’t even brush against me. As precise as he is predatory. The world wobbles just behind his head. He moves back into my view, proving that I was the one wobbling. This really isn’t good.
From one blink to the next, he has the flimsy jacket tossed to the ground, softly growling at it like the material personally offended him. He exhales and sweeps his jacket over me instead. His eyes are so silver they look like moons.
“Oh, it’ll be slow, doll, don’t you worry,” he says like we’ve been having a conversation only he can hear. His voice is nice, though… softer. Selk grabs my scabbed hand, tilting it up. The contact feels so good that I almost moan. Some sound must escape because he pauses before his thumb hovers over the wound like he’s taking its measure. Something thick builds in my chest, pressing toward my throat.
“I didn’t do anything—”
“Was it the dumb shit I sent back inside?” He studies me closely. “Or one of ours from tonight? You’ll point him out to me, won’t you?” He rumbles as his other thumb curls around my jaw before his fingers gently grip my neck. The rumble continues, becoming a sound like the one Emer made. So many muscles in my body release that it’s a raw pleasure. My eyes roll closed and re-open slowly. “And then we’ll make the pain last until you’re satisfied.” He nods. The sound building in my throat releases a whine so sharp and forceful it nearly buckles my knees. What the absolute fuck was that?
He seems to know because Selk grins so wide the emeralds in his canines glitter. My body melts. He leans close enough that his breath brings the scent of leisan. Something pulls the muscles in my stomach when he whispers, “Maybe a bit more pain beyond your satisfaction because I’m a hard male to please, and that whine was a death warrant, isn’t it, doll?”
We’re so close it wouldn’t take any effort to seal myself to those cold, pale lips.
He hesitates, snaps his head once like he’s knocking a thought loose, then focuses on the distance and drops my hand. “Told you not to take any more of that shit, didn’t I?” His voice is suddenly so stern it makes my insides wilt. “You’re splattered with more blood than a four-inch cut. Where else?”
It’s so formal. No rumbling. No soothing. I want to cry.
Before I can, he presses hard along my shoulders, sweeping down my spine with prodding fingers. The rapi-dose is a thing of the past because the pain is blinding. It wrenches a warbling sob out of me as I collapse into his chest when he presses hard enough that the shirt sticks. His arms bind mine to help hold me up, but the added pressure is searing. My mind scrambles through the pain until I’m screaming, and the only thing I can do to keep me from thrashing is to *bite* down hard. I realize a second too late that I’m latched onto the bulk of his pec, biting hard enough to feel the muscle through his thick shirt.
“Doll,” he pants, sounding rough and tense. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”