His eyes closed and he was asleep again.
“How is he?”
Arden turned her head and saw Hemi—now fully healed—leaning heavily on Cam.
“He’s resting. Doc Emerson said he’s going to be fine. You?”
Hemi thrust a thumb against his chest. “I’m too tough to be down for long.”
From beside him, Cam rolled her eyes.
“I’m going to head to my quarters and let my woman spoil me,” Hemi said.
“Your woman’s thinking of smacking you around for letting alien suckers hurt you,” Cam amended.
Grinning, Hemi pulled her close, and Cam pressed her face to his chest and held him tight.
Then Hemi’s gaze fell on Dom again and his smile faded.
“I’ll stay with him,” Arden said. “I owe him.”
Hemi nodded. “Thanks, Arden.”
“Take care.”
Hemi and Cam headed out.
The hours ticked by, and Arden sat quietly in the chair, watching the ebb and flow of the infirmary. She kept an eye on Dom’s monitors, ensuring everything was okay. Finally, he stirred.
He sat up, the sheet falling down his bare chest. The burns on his skin were almost healed.
“Thirsty.” His voice was raspy.
Arden poured some water. “You’re in the infirmary.” Rising, she touched his bare shoulder and held the drink up to his lips.
He took a long sip, his gaze looking at her over the rim of the cup. “Ciao.”
“Hi,” she whispered back.
She set the drink down, and when she moved back to her chair, he reached out and grabbed her hand. His fingers circled her wrist, stroking her skin.
“Is everyone okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Hemi.”
“All healed up, and no doubt letting Cam take care of him.”
Dom shifted on the pillows. “You stayed with me.”
They stared at each other.
“Yes,” she said.
“Right-o.” Emerson appeared. “Mr. Santora, you’re my last task before I’m off to put my feet up and let my man massage them.”
Arden tried to imagine big, silent, and scary Gabe from Hell Squad massaging the doctor’s feet. Then she tried to work out how bubbly, friendly Emerson and Gabe worked.
But the pair were in love and—Arden’s gaze dropped to the woman’s belly—expecting twins, so clearly, they made it work.
“You’re healing up nicely.” Emerson peered at the monitors. “The nanomeds have just about finished up.”
Arden sent up a silent thank you for the tiny medical machines that could heal just about any injury.
Emerson straightened, her hair swinging around her jaw. “You can go back to quarters, but I want someone with you to monitor you. These suckers have some new sort of poison in their saliva, and there’s potential for there to be some lingering effects.”
Dom frowned. “I’m—”
“I’ll do it,” Arden said. “I’ll stay with him.”
He scowled at her. “I don’t need a—”
“Whatever he needs to do, I’ll make sure he does it,” she said firmly.
He grumbled something in Italian, dropping back against his pillows.
A smile curved Emerson’s lips. “I’m sure you will. He just needs rest and some food. Keep him hydrated. Those suckers took a lot of blood.”
“Then he’ll rest,” Arden assured the other woman.
Dom crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’ll give you some painkillers,” Emerson said. “You can give them to him if he has any additional pain.”
“I am in the room,” Dom said.
Arden ignored him and took the pills from the doctor. Whatever it took, she’d make sure he was okay.
Dom woke in his bed. He glanced at the ceiling, carefully assessing his injuries. The pain in his neck had faded drastically, and it wasn’t bad at all now. He’d lived with pain all his life, and learned to lock it down and not let it bother him.
He heard a faint scratching sound and turned his head on the pillow. Then he saw her, and the air caught in his chest.
Arden was curled up in the chair beside his bed, with her feet tucked beneath her. Her sketchbook was resting in her lap, and she was busy sketching with a stick of charcoal.
He drank her in. His life had been void of good, clean beauty, and Arden encompassed all of that. Her hair was loose in shiny waves around her shoulders. Her elegant fingers were stained with black.
He shifted and she stilled, her gaze moving to his face.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Like I got attacked by aliens and then healed up.”
She watched him steadily.
“I’m fine.” Dom sat up, the sheet pooling at his waist
He’d been injured before—by the Gizzida, by Salvatore’s enemies, by Salvatore himself. He’d woken up plenty of times with various aches and pains. Not once could he remember anyone sitting by his bed.
Arden’s gaze moved over his bare chest. Pink spots appeared in her cheeks.
“Keep sketching,” he urged.
She was still for a second, then her hand started moving again. It didn’t take long before she was absorbed in her work again. And then, after a few stolen glances, he realized that she was drawing him.
Dom leaned back, curling an arm behind his head. He heard her breathing hitch.
Hell, he was posing for her. He pulled in a breath and gave himself a mental shake. She wasn’t for him. How many times did he have to keep reminding himself of that? His jaw tightened. He should push her away, drive her away, before he ruined her.
His hand clenched on the sheet, but he couldn’t form any words.
He shifted again, and this time he felt a faint sting across his healing skin and winced.
“You’re in pain. Emerson said that the residual poison from the suckers might prolong the pain.” Arden rose, setting her sketchbook down on the bed.
“I’m used to pain.”
She hesitated. “Your life before…it was dangerous.”
Dom’s hands clenched on the sheets. There were secrets he’d never told anyone. Secrets he kept locked away. But this woman was more dangerous than he’d guessed. She carved through his locks like a blade through skin.
“My earliest memory is being beaten. I stole some food.” He heard her chest hitch. Si, he needed to make her see the gulf between them. “Growing up in a criminal organization means that pain is a way of life. Taking it—” he met
