“Not exactly inconspicuous,” Midas said, reasoning it out. “The host and—whatever we’re calling the skins being worn—would know they had screwed up and were under suspicion.”
“Blood sugar testing takes seconds.” Hadley frowned. “It would be harder for them to dodge us than if we had to send off samples for results.”
“I doubt they would let it get that far.” Midas crossed his ankle over his knee. “They would see the finger stick and bolt. Or attack.”
A close cousin to amusement brightened her face. “That would make it even easier to spot them.”
“Unless they suffer trypanophobia,” Abbott explained at their blank expressions. “Fear of needles?”
“Okay,” Hadley rallied, “so it’s an imperfect solution.”
“Right now, the kit consists of a lancing device, lancets, and a meter,” Abbott explained. “I have one.”
“One meter?” Hadley bounced her leg. “Or one to spare?”
“Both.” Abbott rose to his feet. “You can use the prototype, should an opportunity present itself.”
“I’m not sure how much good it will do.” She held out her hand. “It can’t hurt, though.”
Actually, it would hurt. A lot. For such tiny needles, they inflicted a disproportionate amount of pain.
Abbott lifted a finger and left the room, and her arm dropped to her side as she waited for his return.
“Where is Superman and his X-ray vision when you need him?”
Midas ran a hand down her back. “I don’t recall him spending much time in Atlanta.”
Rising with a sigh, she rolled her shoulders to stretch them. “We need our own superhero.”
“We have one.”
The flicker of a smile was there and gone before he could savor it, but she plopped down on his lap, which was even better.
“Any ideas for my outfit?” She traced a finger over his lips. “I’ve watched crap-tons of science fiction and fantasy movies. Women end up draped in chains, cinched in leather, or poured into spandex. Which will it be?”
The hard clench in his gut was nothing new when it came to Hadley, but his desire still held the power to surprise him. It had been so long since he craved touch, since he had allowed himself to want, he tingled with need for her.
“It depends on if you plan on wearing this outfit in public or strictly when we’re at home.”
A throat cleared as Abbott rejoined them. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all.” Hadley kissed Midas’s cheek. “You have the kit ready?”
“I do.” Abbott reclaimed his perch. “Now.” He clasped his hands. “Are you on any birth control?”
Hadley shot out of Midas’s lap and was standing at the door as his arms closed over air.
“I’m not having this discussion.” She slapped her hands over her ears, bolted, then called back, “Ever.”
Midas chuckled until Abbott reached behind him, opened a drawer, and tossed him a box he fumbled twice.
“You are being careful?” Abbott folded his arms over his chest. “You’re newly mated, and with the city in turmoil at the moment, I doubt either of you are ready to entertain the idea of pups.”
Slow heat climbed from the base of Midas’s neck up into his cheeks. “We’ve been careful.”
More careful than the tatters of his male pride allowed him to confess, even to his healer and friend.
“That ought to last you a while.” Abbott rose. “Call down, and I can have more sent up as needed.”
The tips of Midas’s ears flamed red when he noticed the box was full of condoms. Dozens of them.
“I should go check on Hadley.” He shot to his feet then lifted the box. “Um, thanks.”
“Not at all.”
Halfway out the door, Abbott cleared his throat again. “The kit?”
“Yes.” Midas threw on the brakes and pivoted toward him. “The kit.” He took the pouch. “Thanks.”
The healer’s chuckles flowed into the hallway and chased Midas into the elevator.
“That man…” Hadley began, palms on her flushed cheeks. “He’s so…so…”
“Yes,” Midas agreed, torn between sharing his pain and hiding the evidence.
Sadly, the silver panels clued her into the presence of the box in his hand, and she started laughing.
“He didn’t.” She leaned around Midas. “He did not.”
“Oh.” Midas handed them over. “He did.” He cringed. “He also offered to send up more as needed.”
The doors opened on the top floor before she could answer, and she stepped out into the hall.
“I smell Boaz.” Midas tipped his head to one side. “Addie too.”
The hope in her voice almost trumped his embarrassment. “From last night?”
“From about an hour ago.”
The door swung open, and Boaz stood on the threshold. “I thought I heard voices.”
“I have to talk to Linus about letting randos into our home,” she muttered at Midas. “Hello, Boaz.”
“What do you have there?” He stole the box with glee. “Bonbons? Truffles? Cup…” he recoiled as if a snake sat on his open palm, “…cakes?”
“Give me those,” Hadley hissed and snatched them back.
Addie popped her head out into the hall, and she beamed at Hadley and then at him.
“Hi, guys.” She wiggled her fingers. “I made dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Hadley said stiffly. “Make yourselves at home.”
“We haven’t eaten tonight.” Midas rested his palm against Hadley’s lower back. “Thanks for cooking.”
“That—” Boaz pointed, rediscovering his voice, “—is a box of condoms.”
“Yes, dear.” Addie wrapped her hand around his finger, led him inside, and mouthed, “Sorry.”
When Hadley made no move to follow Addie into their apartment, Midas gave her a gentle shove.
“You need to eat,” she said under her breath. “It’s not good for you to go so long without food.”
In reversing their roles, she found her feet, and he was happy to let her use him as her motivation.
“I hope you like Italian.” Addie stood over the stove. “We’ve got chicken parm, cheesy baked ziti, garlic bread, bolognaise, and pappardelle that’s a little thinner noodle than I meant for it to be.”
“It smells fantastic.” Midas’s mouth watered. “You made all this?”
“It’s cheaper to eat in than to
