Eight
“Watch out! Brace with your left leg, not your right!”
Jaxon grappled for leverage, fighting both a losing battle with Zan and his own goddamned bum leg. He wanted to yell at Aric that he was trying and to kindly fuck off, but he couldn’t bellow at his friend and breathe through the pain at the same time. Sweat trickled down his face and sides and his mangled leg trembled as Zan used his position to his advantage, bowing Jax backward to force their combined weight onto the limb. Zan had him in a bear hug, his embrace every bit as powerful and unbreakable as a grizzly’s. All he had to do was be patient and wear Jax down, drive him to exhaustion. It was pathetic how quickly he’d done it.
Then suddenly, Zan let up, loosened his hold. Distracted by the relief of being able to straighten, thinking their bout was over, Jax was taken completely by surprise when Zan delivered a swift kick to his injured leg.
“Aaah, fuuuuck!” he yelled, agony sweeping through his muscles like a blowtorch. The leg buckled and he went down hard, the thick gym mat cushioning his fall. To his shame, he could do nothing but writhe on the mat, breathing hard and pounding his fist, riding out the waves of sickness rising in his throat.
“Hey, low blow!” Aric shouted. Jax was barely aware of the redhead leaping from his spot on the bleachers and jogging over to shove Zan. “What the hell, asshole?”
Zan ignored him and raised his thumb and forefinger as though shooting a gun aimed between Jaxon’s eyes. “And boom, you’re dead.”
Aric shoved Zan again and got right in his face. “I’m talkin’ to you, needledick. What gives with that bullshit? You’re supposed to be his best bud, and you put him on the ground like a fuckin’ dog!”
Jaxon wasn’t sure what amazed him more —Zan doing just what Aric said, or Aric leaping to Jaxon’s defense. Wasn’t it just this morning that he’d taken a chunk out of the red wolf for getting too cozy with Kira? And here the man was, ready to do the same to Zan for delivering the cheap shot.
The two men glared at each other as Zan replied. “What do you think a demon would do in battle? Or someone with a gun? Apologize and offer to kiss his boo-boos? Get a grip, man. We can’t help him improve his skills by coddling him.”
Aric’s lip curled. “But you’re not the enemy, you prick. He can’t get better with you whacking away at the damage.”
“I disagree.”
“Why don’t ya take a shot at someone who can whoop your ass?”
Jesus. Sitting up with a grimace, Jax reached out and tapped Aric’s calf. “At ease, soldier. He’s right. Help me up, would you?”
The pair stared each other down a few seconds longer. Aric relented first and reached to lend him a hand. Zan grabbed the other and together they hauled him to his feet. Another bolt of pain rocketed through the complaining limb, but he managed to steady himself by briefly holding on to Zan’s shoulder.
At their questioning looks, he nodded. “I’m good. Gonna go grab a shower and see Melina before lunch.”
“Christ, Jax, did I hurt you that bad?” Zan asked, eyes wide. “God, I’m sorry!”
“No,” he said with a short, humorless laugh. “Something else entirely.”
“What’s going on?” This from Aric, who was frowning in concern. “You sick?”
“Don’t think so.” He paused. “Not sure. I’ve got this burning itch—”
“Eewww.” Zan gave him a teasing grin. “Thought we couldn’t get those kinds of diseases anymore.”
“Ha-ha, very funny. It’s not that sort of itch; it’s all over, just under my skin. No rash or anything, but it’s driving me insane.” Especially when she’s around, and then I have the unbearable urge to bite her. But he refrained from telling them that part.
Zan pushed a hand through his black hair. “Huh. Well, if anyone can figure it out, Melina can. Let us know you’re okay after you talk to her.”
“You bet. Walk me out?”
He didn’t really need any help, but he wasn’t about to leave them there alone to possibly get into another argument. Aric’s combustible temper was going to be his downfall someday. In the hallway, at the junction leading to his quarters, however, he had no option but to leave them to their own devices as they headed toward the rec room. At least they both seemed calm now. They could handle their difference of opinion like adults. He hoped.
In his bedroom, he stripped and showered without rushing, letting the hot water cascade over his aching muscles. Bracing his hands against the tile, he hung his head and fought back the feelings of worthlessness threatening to take over. He was no good to his team in this condition, but Nick had stood firm against him quitting Alpha Pack. God knows why. The boss had his reasons and Jaxon was sure he didn’t want to be privy to them.
A small, insistent voice in his brain reminded him that he’d handled the bastards attacking Kira just fine. In wolf form, he wasn’t weak. Wasn’t less. But how could she, or any woman, love the beast as well as the man? That brought his head up, eyes wide. Love? No. Uh-uh. Not now or ever. Lust? Bring it on. And Kira was too good to be used that way. Her soft little heart would get broken in nothing flat, hanging with the likes of him. She deserved better.
The goddamned itching returned at that very moment, seizing him with a vengeance. Arms, legs, and torso, he inspected every inch, and nothing. Groaning, he scratched like a madman, only to learn that made it a million times worse, and inflamed the burning sensation. Yet his skin was totally unblemished.
“Son of a bitch!” Smacking the nozzle to shut off the water, he flung open the glass door and stepped onto the rug. Then he grabbed the towel hanging on the nearby bar and dried off, and hurried to the bedroom to put on fresh jeans and a T-shirt that declared THE HEAT I’M PACKING IS JUSTIFIED without really paying attention to what he’d picked.
Then he studied himself in the mirror, wondering if he should change the shirt. He grinned. Nah. His good humor was short-lived as he limped toward Melina’s office. He probably should’ve called first, but he was in too damned big a hurry to stop. Didn’t make a difference whether she was busy or not, he had to see her and get something to stop the itching before he lost what was left of his mind.
Hobbling into the reception area, he saw Kira sitting in a chair flipping through a magazine, but paused only long enough to bark at the young female receptionist, “Is Dr. Mallory back there?”
“Yes, but—Wait! She’s with a patient!”
Tough shit. He was dying. Rushing to her office, he found the door standing open, the space empty. She must be in one of the exam rooms, then. Going from room to room, he had the presence of mind to knock before pushing open the doors. In the fourth one, he found the doc standing next to the Fae prince, who was sitting on an exam table. The white paper underneath him crinkled as he peered around the doc at Jaxon.
His movement alerted Melina, who was holding a cotton ball tightly to the bend at his elbow. Glancing over her shoulder at Jaxon, she shot him a look of annoyance and then turned back to her patient.
“I’m going to put a Band-Aid over this. Leave it on a while, until the bleeding stops.”
“All right.” The prince gave her a smile. “That wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.”
“Usually isn’t.” Jaxon watched in amazement as she beamed at the man in return.
There was still a warm, fuzzy woman under those cactus spines after all. Who knew? He waited patiently as she patted Sariel on the arm in a comforting gesture and then collected a vial of sapphire blue liquid from the nearby counter.
“Is that his blood?” he asked, raising his brows.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Is this a social call or are you having a problem?”
“A problem.”
“Wait in exam room two while I finish.” She pointed the way in curt dismissal.
She was pissed, but he was too damned miserable to care. He walked two doors down and paced the empty room, listening to their conversation as she concluded business with her patient. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but even with the carpeting, the acoustics afforded him every word.
“Okay, I’m going to run a few more tests that I haven’t yet done on you, mostly for research, to study and record how the system of a Fae male works. How it compares with the humans and shifters.”
“All right.”
“However, some of them are going to tell me what I already know. Such as the fact that you’ve lost too much weight. You’ve got to start eating, even if you don’t want to, in order to get back your energy and regain your health.”
“I’ll try,” he said in a grave voice. “But as I said, I don’t eat meat and anything else I’ve sampled has made me sick. Which doesn’t make sense because your vegetables are not that different, from what I’ve seen.”
“We’ll work on that. Now, what about you trying to take your own life? Do I need to worry about you attempting it again?”
“No! On my honor, I will not.” He sounded sincere, and ashamed. “I was feeling like I had lost everything. But I can see perhaps that was not true.”
“It’s not true at all. You have friends here, if you want them, and I think you’ll do well. But come to me immediately if those depressed feelings return.”
“I will.”
“Good. As soon as I’m done with Jax, I’ll speak with the kitchen and have them prepare some other dishes for you to try. If that doesn’t work, we’ll keep digging until we get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Melina, please,” she said softly.
Oh-ho! Jaxon stopped in midstride and grinned, wondering whether the guy had any clue what a gift had just been dropped in his lap. If not, he’d soon find out if things got up close and personal between them.
“Sariel.” He paused, then added, “But you can continue to call me Blue if you’d like.”
“I will, then.”
This was getting more and more interesting. Too bad the doc was walking him out, ending the fascinating drama. As they reached Jaxon’s room, she stopped there and said she’d see him again soon. Sariel thanked her again and left.
She came inside and shut the door. “What’s so important that you barged into my examination with another patient? And it had better be good, because you don’t look like you’re dying,” she said, eyeing him.
“No, but I feel like I am,” he muttered, tugging at his soul patch. “Christ, Melina, I’m itching all fucking over. And look at me.”
He spread his arms wide, and then tugged up the hem of his T-shirt so she could see his stomach. “No rash, nothing.”
“Have you been in contact with any strange or unidentifiable plants, maybe while running in the forest?”
“No, and I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed.”
The doc frowned, her irritation vanishing. “Take off your shirt.”
“You won’t find anything.” But he complied, and she circled him, nodding in agreement.
“You’re right. Clear as a bell.” Grabbing her stethoscope, she gestured to the table. “Let’s begin with all the standard stuff, like the heart, lungs, and throat. Have you run a temperature?”
“Nope. I don’t feel hot, and shifters can’t get diseases anyway.” He scooted onto the paper-covered surface.
“That we’ve been able to learn,” she pointed out. “That rule might only apply to the sexually transmitted ones.” After listening to his heart and lungs, she removed the instrument from her neck and set it on the counter. Next came the tongue depressor. “Clear so far. Open up.”
She placed the nasty wooden thing inside far enough to reach his frigging colon and pushed down. “Hmm. There’s some redness and swelling. Is your throat sore?” The depressor came out and she tossed it into the trash can.
Swallowing, he took stock. “A little. I hadn’t really noticed until you asked. It’s not bad, though.”
“Scale of one to ten?”
“Uh, a two.”
“Which means it’s really a three or four, knowing how you guys never admit to crap, even when you’re gushing blood.”
Knowing the doc was right, he didn’t argue as she opened a drawer and removed a vial and a syringe sealed in sterile wrapping. “I’m going to have one of my assistants run the usual tests—blood cell count, hormone levels, thyroid, you name it. We’ll put a rush on it. Should be ready by tomorrow.”
“Melina . . . I need to ask you some questions. As a patient,” he clarified. They all worked in such close quarters, living together for years, he counted her among his friends. It could have been personal, but this time it wasn’t.
“We’ll talk in my office after this. I have questions for you, too.”
He studied her angular face as she deftly swabbed the skin at the crook of his elbow with alcohol and then opened the package containing the syringe. Black fringe framed her forehead and cheekbones in short spikes, longer than his own haircut but still severe to him. Her hair had once been long and glorious, a black silk curtain that she kept pulled back while working, loose when off duty. Once, she’d smiled more, too, the rough edges smoothed by contentment.
She’d been married then, to their former leader, Terry Noble. After he was killed in the massacre six months ago, she’d cut her beautiful locks. And her smiles—the ones that actually lit her eyes —were now as rare as Nick’s white wolf. Or a Fae prince. But she’d smiled at Nick not long ago, when he wasn’t looking. And she’d done the same today, with Sariel.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
He started. She was done and had stuck the cotton ball with the Band-Aid on his arm without him even noticing. “No reason. Just thinking that I miss your hair being long.”
What he really missed was the friend she’d been to them all before Terry died. But he could hardly tell her so without alienating her further. Especially when Jax was the cause.
She eyed him, a funny expression on her face. “Where did that come from?”
“Don’t know. Just being a stupid guy, I guess.”
“That I can believe.”
“Jeez, anesthetize a guy before you stab him, would ya?”
“You started it.” Her lips quirked, and it saddened him to realize that was as close as she came to teasing anymore.
“So I did.”
“My office. Wait for me there. I’m going to drop these off at the lab.”
“Sure.”
He pulled his shirt on and did as he was told. Once he was seated, it took her only a minute to join him. Taking her place behind her desk, she folded her arms on the top and began.
“My questions first, then yours.” She gazed at him thoughtfully.
“Exactly when did the itching begin?”
“Last night. After we rescued Kira.”
Her gaze sharpened, along with her tone. “Have you touched her?”
And then some. “Yeah. Last night I touched her cheek and got a faint impression. Then I took her wrist and got a clearer vision of her stealing something, and running from men who wanted to kill her.”
“It started after that.”
“Yes, probably before I was even aware of it.”
“Are there times when the symptoms seem worse than others?”
There wasn’t going to be any way around telling her the truth. Not when it related to his own questions. Damn it.
“Definitely,” he said with a sigh. “It got a helluva lot worse after we went on a walk this morning and I kissed her. And then . . .”
“Don’t leave anything out, Jax. It could be important,” she urged.
He cleared his throat. “And since we made love, it’s gotten to be damned near unbearable.”
She blinked at him and then blew out a breath. “You sure didn’t waste any time.”
He fought down a surge of embarrassment. “That’s another thing—I had to be with her. To—to mate with her, I guess is the right word, and it couldn’t happen fast enough. I wanted to sink my teeth into her neck, Melina, to taste her blood! I didn’t, though, and the need to take her again and follow through this time is driving me insane! What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Jax,” she said gently. “What you’ve described is exactly what Terry went through before he took me as his mate. Once he bit me during sex, the symptoms disappeared.”
“Oh, God.” He closed his eyes, slumping in his chair. This was what he’d been afraid of, the very thing he dreaded.
“There’s something else.”
He shuddered to imagine. “What?” Opening his eyes, he took in her grim expression.
“Once he mated with me, he was never able to become aroused by another female. It was physical, as though the mating rendered him incapable.”
“But . . . Christ, you mean it’s irreversible? And we have no say in who we’re mated with? That fate or genes or whatever the hell decides for us? That’s totally screwed up!”
She studied him for a long moment before answering. “I think that’s the negative way to view it. I prefer to believe that shifters will experience these symptoms when they meet the one who’s perfectly suited to them. The one who completes them in every way.”
“Like you and Terry?” he blurted.
“Well, almost perfectly. He bit me, but I never turned into a shifter. He felt a bond with me that he claimed was like a slim golden thread, but I never felt it with him. I’m not sure we were true Bondmates, but we were happy.”
A stab of remorse went through his gut like a bayonet. Happy until I fell for a whore who led us all into a trap and got your husband murdered. And then I had the ability to bend time, change what happened, and failed to use it. That last fact was his greatest shame. His horror to bear. But Melina had never blamed anyone. Not even Jax.
“Do you think Kira is my Bondmate?” he managed.
“Only one way to know for sure.”
“Bite her.”
“Yes. However, if you do and she’s not your mate, you still run the risk of turning her into a shifter. You’d have to make certain it’s what she wants either way.”
He swiped a hand down his face in aggravation. “What a nightmare. And if I don’t?”
“You might recall that Terry got really sick before he finally gave in and took the plunge, so to speak. His powers were almost drained and he was so ill he almost waited too late to bite me.”
“Are you saying he nearly died?”
“No, but as a doctor who saw his rapid decline, I fully believe he would have if he’d waited a few more days. And you should know that once he mated with me, his abilities vanished for weeks. They did come back eventually, but we didn’t know if they would.”
Jax hadn’t known that. He doubted the others did, either. The news was unwelcome and quite frightening. He didn’t want fate, genetics, or anything else picking his mate. Fuck, he didn’t want a mate at all!
“I need time to process this,” he said. “You’ve answered my questions.”
“And you answered mine.” She stood at the same time he did and rounded her desk, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Take some ibuprofen for your sore throat. Would you like a sample of Benadryl capsules for the itching? I don’t know that it will help much, if any, but it’s worth a try.”
“I’d take anything to get rid of it,” he muttered, scratching his stomach.
“I know,” she said in sympathy. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
“I’m not sure about that, but I appreciate the pep talk, short and sweet as it was.”
A trace of humor lightened the starkness of her features. “Anytime.”
After she fetched a bottle of the medicine, he told her good-bye and headed out, scanning the reception area for Kira. Of course she’d been waiting for her new buddy earlier—the one who looked like a frigging otherworldly runway model—and was now long gone. And that made him seriously want to kick some faery ass.
Kira was sitting at one of the big oak tables in the dining room, eating lunch and talking with Mackenzie and Sariel when Jax stalked in, looking hotter than sin and loaded for bear. His steely gaze immediately focused on the Fae prince sitting next to her and narrowed, and he made a beeline straight for them, situating himself in a chair next to Mac and across from Kira.
“Mind if I join you guys?” His tone said he didn’t care whether they did or not. Spying the sandwiches and chips served family style in the middle of the table, he grabbed a paper plate from the stack and began filling it.
“Only if you can put up with a nosy busybody like me,” she lobbed back.
“Hey, I tried to apologize for that.” He stuffed a bite of sandwich in his mouth as her companions looked on with great interest. “Maybe not hard enough.”
Setting the sandwich on his plate, he looked at her earnestly, ignoring their audience.
“Listen, I am sorry. I was only concerned about you putting yourself in a dangerous situation again. If you say you won’t, then I believe you.”
He sounded sincere, and his gaze held hers, steady and serious. And it had never been in her nature to hold on to irritation for long. “Then I accept your apology. For the record, I’ll try not to trespass or do anything else to put myself in harm’s way.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
As they ate, she mused over why he’d gotten so angry in his room. Why he seemed to care about her welfare more than a virtual stranger should. Because while there was a definite connection of some sort between them, and she liked his friends more and more with every minute, that’s what they were— strangers.
Nobody’s but mine.
His words returned with the force of a punch, and she choked on a sip of her soda. Waving away their concern, she grabbed a napkin and pressed it over her mouth as she coughed, eyes watering. Sariel patted her on the back, and nobody at the table missed the deep-throated growl of warning that rumbled in Jax’s chest when he did.
The two males locked eyes and Sariel’s hand froze. Kira’s heart did a sharp jerk at the very real threat on Jax’s face. One lip curled up to reveal a lengthening fang and his entire body was suddenly tense as a bowstring, ready to leap across the table and tear out the other male’s throat. Anger smoldered, reached out like smoke to curl around them all, especially the Seelie. She’d seen Jax cut through two human thugs like they were chew toys, but could he win a fight against a faery? Sariel’s strong, firm voice broke the silence, and all eyes in the room riveted on the scene. Unknowingly, he answered her fearful question.
“Stand down, wolf. I have no designs upon your female, and trust me when I say that you have no wish to do battle with a nine- thousand-year-old Seelie.”
Holy shit! At another table, a couple of the guys murmured to each other in surprise. Zander and Aric stood, ready to intervene if necessary.
Wait a minute—your female?
“Take your hand off her,” Jax advised, each syllable enunciated with barely contained rage.
“I will, after you are calm.” The prince’s expression was now every bit as forbidding as the other man’s. He might be pretty, but he was definitely no pushover.
“I’ll rip off your fucking arm and beat you with it.” Jax started to rise.
“Before you can, I’ll turn you into a slug.”
“Nice,” said Aric with a chuckle.
Jax paused. “That’s cheating.”
The prince shrugged. “Whatever works. As you are the one threatening me, I reserve the right to end the conflict, preferably without bloodshed.”
The Fae male was so self-assured, no one in the dining room appeared to doubt he could do exactly what he claimed. Kira’s attention was fixed on her onetime lover, all the spit drying in her throat. Jax stilled, his expression cold as ice, the planes and angles of his face taking on sharper definition.
Before her eyes, beast and man waged war over which would rule, neither of them wanting to avoid bloodshed at all, yet knowing they must back down. How could this deadly predator be the same man who’d taken her to the heights of pleasure just hours ago? His struggle for control was scary as hell, but not nearly as frightening as what he said next, his throaty voice low and gravelly.
“Can you bend the very fabric of time, Prince?”
“Jax, don’t.” Zan quickly closed the distance between him and his friend andtugged his arm.
The prince frowned. “Such a thing is impossible, even for the Fae.”
“Not for me.” Ignoring Zan, he gave a humorless laugh. “I’m a Timebender, and my teeth would rip into your fine neck before you even realized I was no longer in the same place as before.”
Sariel read the truth in the wolf’s statement and his face paled, if that was even possible. “By the gods,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Now, that’s cheating, in its finest form.”
“Whatever works.”
For some reason, having his boastful words tossed back at him made Sariel laugh. A genuine hearty sound that shattered the dangerous tension in the room and had Jax’s friends exhaling heartfelt sighs of relief. Including Kira, though she wasn’t yet sure she counted as a friend.
“I like you, wolf.”
Pointedly, he removed his hand from Kira’s back. “Perhaps one day you’ll unleash that particular talent upon my sire.”
The other man relaxed, his canines receding along with his anger. “Now, that’s a war I’ll look forward to winning.”
For her part, she failed to find any part of the exchange the least bit humorous. Why did males of any species feel the frequent need to whip out their dicks and compare sizes? She wasn’t sure how she felt about being fought over like a steak bone, either. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so embarrassing minus the roomful of gawking people.
“Well, that was fun,” she said stiffly, glaring at Jax. “Next time why don’t you hike your leg on me like I’m a frigging tree?” Pushing away from the table, she made herself scarce, dumping the remains of her lunch on the way out.
Behind her, Zan said, presumably to Jax, “Way to go, dumbass.”
She couldn’t agree more.