“As a physician, I agree.” He sighed. “As a gwyllgi…”
“I can walk,” Midas rasped. “I’m done with the IV anyway.”
“You’re not the doctor.” Hadley rushed to his side. “You don’t get to make that call.”
The longer he kept his eyes open, the clearer his vision became until he noticed the change in her.
“Your hair is shorter.” He touched the soft curls. “It’s nice.”
“I was due for a trim anyway.” She blew off the reason for the new style. “I like it shorter in summer.”
“You can take him home with you if he can walk out of here,” Abbott said, ending their argument. “That is the best I can do.”
“Well?” She studied him. “Can you make it, or are we bunking here today?”
The easy way she said we, discarding her comfort for his, made it a simple choice.
“I can walk,” he said again. “I’m dizzy, but I can manage.”
Hadley made it clear she wasn’t impressed with his struggle to pull on clothes, or his wobbling attempts to navigate the room. She shadowed him, her arms out to catch him if he fell, like he wouldn’t crush her in the process. Then again, she had carried him down more than one flight of stairs. Adrenaline might have given her an edge, but he knew there was more to it.
Shadow child.
Wraith or otherwise, the creature she had bonded with fed her strength. That much was clear. The cost of its aid, and the result on her health, worried him, but he could only wait to see if she confided the terms to him.
The deeper the bond burrowed into him, the harder it became not to share everything of himself with her. He might be repeating his mistake of tricking her into a courtship by not fully informing her of who she kept company with, but he couldn’t work up the nerve to make confessions that might tarnish him in her eyes. Not when she gazed down at him as if he were a good man she was proud to have by her side.
The walk out of the infirmary wasn’t too bad. Abbott emptied the halls, so Midas was able to keep a hand on the wall to steady himself. The elevator ride could have been just as painless, had the car been empty. The four enforcers already packed inside hesitated when they spotted him, their nostrils flaring in an instinctive hunt for signs of weakness. They wouldn’t have acted on the impulse, not with Hadley there, but they would have filed away his injuries. It was the way their minds worked, the wildness in them, and he respected that.
“How are you feeling?” Carson, a seasoned enforcer, asked quietly, his attention on Hadley.
A smile tugged up one corner of Midas’s mouth. “Like I know how a match feels after its been struck.”
They laughed, but it didn’t reach their eyes. They worried, he knew, but he was at a loss as to how to reassure them. He wasn’t much good with people, and he was too tired to fake it at the moment.
“Oh, please.” Hadley waded right into the conversation and the elevator. “Are you still whining about your hair?”
“It was my one great beauty.” He picked up the banter and focused on walking as if his head weren’t swimming with a mixture of drugs and trauma. “Now how am I supposed to attract a mate?”
“They make wigs out of real hair these days.” She ran her palm over his scalp. “Then again, synthetic might be a better option for you. Something flame retardant, maybe?”
The guys in the elevator snickered as they shuffled back to make room for them to stand together.
“Funny.” He took the hint when Hadley stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Very funny.”
The strength that allowed her to save him helped her prop him up without the others noticing beyond their embrace.
“Never thought I would see the day I had to beg Midas Kinase to stop it with the PDA,” one of the guys quipped. “You’re making me jealous over here.”
“Don’t sweat it.” The guy next to him punched him in the shoulder. “Your inflatable girlfriend will kiss it and make it better after your shift.”
“At least I have an inflatable girlfriend,” he countered, then frowned. “Wait. That’s not what I meant.”
“Give it up, Dawes.” His friend laughed. “Marinate in your shame.”
The guys ribbed one another about their girlfriends, inflatable or otherwise, all the way to the lobby.
When the doors slid open, they jostled past with smiles and smack talk that drew attention to them, and to Midas. A few noted his proximity to Hadley and frowned. A few more goggled at his hair. One child cried at the splotchy skin healing in pink and red patches over his body until his mother exited the lobby.
Still spinning the situation like a pro, Hadley pulled him down to her for a slow kiss that earned them applause and a few good-natured teases.
Once the doors closed and they were alone, he panted into her mouth. “Ouch.”
It cost him to admit he was in pain, and the softening of her expression confirmed she knew him well enough to guess that and appreciate it.
“Just a little farther.” She couldn’t be too obvious about supporting him even now, with the camera recording them and the potential for stops along the way. “And here we go.”
The entire uppermost floor of the Faraday was the penthouse suite, and Linus had called it home during his tenure as potentate. Now it belonged to Hadley.
Across from the door, floor-to-ceiling windows stretched tall to offer a prime view of downtown Atlanta. The blackout curtains were remote-controlled, he knew from experience, to accommodate necromancers’ nocturnal sleep schedules. The wall behind them, where the door stood, had been hung with Sheetrock and painted a neutral color between gray and beige. The walls to either side of him showed exposed brick with artfully applied plaster patches that softened the overall industrial vibe. The floors were polished concrete that reflected the overhead lights.
To the
