But as she pressed against his big, naked body, he finally seemed to get the idea.Stiffly, he bent at the waist and thenCassiewas able to press his face against the side of her neck.
“Breathe,” she ordered.“Goahead—sniff me,Idon’t mind.”
After a moment,Ravikdid as she said.Sheheard him inhale deeply several times and then he rumbled,
“Mate smells good.”
Uh-oh—he’s back to sounding like a caveman,she thought.Butat least he was speaking in sentences again.
“How could he regress so quickly?”Severinasked, still sounding upset.
“I don’t know,”Cassietold him.“ButwhatIdoknow is that we all need to get out of this smoky kitchen.Itstinks in here!”
“Let’s go to my lab,”Severinsaid.“Ihave a medic kit there.Ican treat his wounds.”
“Not with that hand, you can’t,”Cassietold him.“I’llbe treating you both.Nowcome on—march.”
She tookRavikby his free hand—the one that wasn’t cupped around his junk—and the three of them trailed down the long bunker hallway.
24
SEVERIN
“This is the lab.”Severinled the way into a side room which was long and narrow, like most of the rooms in the bunker.Thefront of the room was filled with scientific equipment but the back of the room had a free table and a few chairs to sit on.
He wished, not for the first time, that the space was larger.Backon theMotherShip, his lab had been three times this size, with separate sterilization chambers, refrigeration walls, multiple scopes, and enough automated equipment to run six different viral assays at once.Here, everything was cramped and improvised.
The counters were crowded with sample tubes, sealed vials, culture plates, and half a dozen makeshift racks he’d built from scavenged polymer strips and oldVisskoustool clamps.Theair smelled sharply of antiseptic, heated metal, and the faint sour tang of viral medium—a smell he had grown to hate over the last few months.
Still, it was the best-equipped room in the bunker and the only reason he andRavikhad survived as long as they had—if you could call this surviving.
Ravik was shuffling behind him, one huge hand still cupped protectively over his shaft and balls, his broad shoulders hunched and his golden eyes milky with infection again.Cassandrahad hold of his other hand and was murmuring to him under her breath as though he was some enormous wounded animal she was trying not to startle.
The bigBeastKindredfollowed her docilely, his gaze fixed on her face, his nostrils flaring every few seconds as though he needed the scent of her just to remember where he was.EverytimeCassandraglanced back at him, his expression cleared a little.Everytime she looked away, the fog seemed to thicken again.
Severin’s burned palm throbbed like a bastard.Heignored it—or tried to.
He had been trained to compartmentalize pain.Thatwas a necessary skill for aBloodKindredmedic and xeno-virologist who had spent most of his career in hot zones, battlefields, and infected colonies where stopping to complain about a blistered hand could mean the difference between containment and catastrophe.Butthe pain was making it difficult to think clearly, and thinking clearly was important right now.
Thinking clearly was the only thing that had keptRavikalive this long—untilCassandracame along.
The thought twisted inside him, sharp and unpleasant.Hewas grateful—of course he was.Hehad spent three solar months watching his best friend slide inch by inch into theHungerVirusfog, losing words…losing memory…losinghimself.IfCassandra’sscent could bringRavikback, even temporarily,Severinought to have been on his knees thanking theGoddess.
And hewasgrateful.
But there was a bitter edge to the gratitude, too.Becausehe had worked himself half to death trying to save his best friend.Hehad slept in snatches, eaten when he remembered, and run every test he could think of until the inside of his skull felt scraped raw.Hehad taken apart theHungerVirusstrand by strand, mapped its replication patterns, isolated its protein shells, tracked the way it hollowed infected cells and repurposed them into viral factories…
But none of it had been enough.
ThenCassandrahad arrived wearing a torn red silk nightgown, smelling of fear, sweat, female heat, and somethingSeverinstill could not identify, andRavikhad started speaking again, just like that.
TheGoddesshad a cruel sense of humor sometimes.
“Okay—where’s theFirstAidkit?”Cassandraasked, breaking his train of thought.
“Here.”Severingrabbed it with his unhurt hand and set it down on a metal lab table.Hisinjured hand gave a vicious pulse when he moved too quickly and he had to grit his teeth against a hiss of pain.
Cassandra noticed anyway, of course.Hergaze flicked to his blistered palm and her eyes narrowed.
