“It could be both.”
He growled.
“That was very scary.”
“You’re not helping your cause, smartass.”
“We came into the Pit to talk to Marat. The person who attacked me by the river didn’t want us talking to him. They attacked us again. And now we are running away.”
“We aren’t running away. We’re making a strategic withdrawal.”
“Arkan is targeting my family. I can’t afford to show weakness. The longer this investigation goes on, the higher the risk for them. This is my first interview. If I don’t make it, the other board members will feel free to ignore me. The investigation will drag on. If people I love get hurt because of this, I’ll never forgive you, Alessandro.”
He slapped the wheel with the palm of his hand. “Porca puttana!”
“If you care for me at all, even a little bit, I need you to stop the car, get the first aid kit from the back, and patch me up. After the interview, we can go home and I’ll have an MRI, a CT scan, a toxic panel, a pregnancy test, and whatever other tests you want me to get. Sound fair?”
“It sounds like shit. You were clawed by something that might have crawled out of the arcane realm. It could be poisonous or venomous.”
“I have the A3 antivenom in the kit.”
“No.”
“Alessandro.” I made my voice soft and pitiful.
He glanced at my super-sad expression and swore again.
“Please,” I said. “For me?”
He hit the brakes. Rhino slid and spun around, facing in the opposite direction, toward the Pit.
“You’re crazy and I’m stupid. Take your shirt off.”
If it were anybody else, I would’ve stripped without hesitation, because it wouldn’t have mattered. Being a Deputy Warden had cured me of any demure shyness about getting my wounds treated. My entire side burned as if scalded. I needed medical attention and it couldn’t wait. But it was Alessandro, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, it mattered so much.
Alessandro walked around the SUV to get the first aid kit from the back. I peeled off my blue T-shirt. He was right. There was vomit on it. Not much, but enough to smell bad. Maybe I did have a concussion.
I lifted my butt off the seat, unzipped my pants, and pulled them down on the right side to expose my hip and most of my butt. Alessandro chose that moment to swing my door open.
For a second he didn’t say anything. He just stared.
And this wasn’t awkward. Not at all.
“Help me off the seat?” I asked.
He put the kit down and picked me up. His hands felt so nice on my cold skin. He set me down and squeezed hand sanitizer onto his fingers. I perched on the step that helped you climb into Rhino’s high cabin and raised my arm.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s not good.” He held up a syringe. The antivenom. Creatures from the arcane realm carried things on their claws and their teeth that didn’t play nice with the human body.
I closed my eyes. Needles were never my favorite. A sharp pinprick punctured my side. The medicine flooded into my muscle in a painful heavy stream. I grimaced.
“Almost done,” he promised.
Finally, it was over. I exhaled and opened my eyes.
We were on the access bridge. In the distance Sam Houston Tollway channeled the current of cars heading north. We were out in the open, and yet somehow strangely private, with nothing but an empty bridge and a mire around us. The dark fuzz around my vision melted away—my magic gradually regenerating. I always recovered magic at an alarmingly fast rate. Most magic users had to make an effort to actively use their powers. I spent most of my time suppressing mine. When I let go, magic fountained out of me like a geyser. The first few times I had drained myself down to nothing, I stressed out for hours waiting for it to come back, but now I knew my rate of regeneration. Power trickled into me in a narrow but steady stream. As soon as I could, I’d draw an arcane circle and recharge.
Alessandro picked up the flush bottle and motioned for me to nod. I lowered my head until my chin touched my chest. The saline solution wet my hair.
“The cut is shallow,” he said. “Only an inch across, which is good, but it doesn’t tell us anything about the condition of your brain.”
“My brain is functioning.”
His fingers parted my hair. “You could be bleeding internally.”
His hands in my hair made it hard to concentrate. “Am I still speaking slowly?”
“No.”
“Then it’s fine.”
In terms of magic regeneration, I was a freak.
He sat the bottle down and picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment. “Hold still.”
His hands were still touching my hair. It felt so intimate. Too intimate.
“You can lift your head.”
I brushed my hair out of my face. Alessandro knelt by me and leaned forward. His face was only inches from mine. He scrutinized my eyes, looking for something in there, probably some mystical signs of concussion. Only minutes ago, he’d disassembled the construct with efficient brutality, and now he was kneeling before me, and his eyes were kind and concerned.
The rest of the world could be on fire right now and I wouldn’t move an inch to put it out.
“Who am I?” he asked.
“Alessandro Niccolò Sagredo, Prime, antistasi, second son of House Sagredo, Count Sagredo,” I told him quietly. “Playboy, assassin, and internationally known influencer. Did I leave anything out?”
“Good enough. There is ibuprofen in this kit, but it’s a blood thinner, and if you are bleeding internally it would make things worse.”
“I’ll tough it out. The painkiller in the injection should kick in soon.”
He picked up the saline wash and touched me, his calloused fingers stretching my skin. I shivered. It hurt, and I didn’t care. I wanted him to keep touching me.
Warm saline water ran down my side.
“How many punctures?” I asked, to say something. I didn’t even sound like myself.
“Four. Looks like only the tips of the claws. You’re lucky, angelo mio. Half an inch more and it would’ve ripped through your liver.”
He called me his angel.
I closed my eyes, trying to shut him out. The warm water kept running over my skin. With the heat of the summer beating down on us, it actually felt kind of nice . . .
“Don’t fall asleep,” he said, his voice sharp.
“I’m not falling asleep. I’m just closing my eyes.” So I won’t have to look at you.
“Keep them open.”
“Yes, Prime Sagredo. As you wish, Prime Sagredo. I obey, Prime Sagredo.”
“Finally, proper treatment.” He pressed gauze to my side.
I winced.
“Don’t hold your breath,” he said quietly. “It will hurt more. Breathe through it.”
“You breathe through it.” Wow. What a stunning display of wit.
“I’m trying,” he said. “Believe me, I’m doing my best.”
He worked quickly, rinsing the wounds, patting me dry with sterile gauze, and finally moving on to antibiotic cream.
“How do you even know my second name?” he asked. “I’ve never used it.”
“I run a private detective agency. It’s my job to know things about potential threats.”
“If I wanted to be a threat to you, it wouldn’t matter how much you knew about me.”
“Promises, promises . . .”
His touch was featherlight. “Is the shot kicking in?”
I nodded. The pain had dulled. I had lost the last defense against him touching me.
“When was your last tetanus shot?”
“Right after you left.”
His fingers skimmed my skin just under my bra. A little spark dashed through me, all the way to my toes. He taped a square of gauze to me. His fingertips brushed the edge of my bra band. I bit my lip.