“You need that looked at too,” she said.
“Ravik first,”Severinsaid shortly.
“Both of you need treatment, as soon asIcan manage it,” she said.“Butsince he’s naked, injured, and apparently one bad moment away from forgetting his own name,Ravikgets priority.”
It should have irritated him, the way she took command of his lab as though she had every right to do so.Instead,Severinfound it tugged at his cold, scientific heart.
Cassandra was frightened—he knew she was.Shehad been bitten by anInfected, abandoned by her mate, dragged into a bunker, stripped, tested, and then thrust into a kind of improvised caretaking role with two dangerousKindredmales she barely knew.
Yet here she was, bossing both of them around as though she had been born to handle impossible situations.
Maybe she had, he thought, watching her with reluctant admiration as she got started treatingRavik’sinjuries.
She opened the kit and appeared to find several things she could use.
“Okay, big guy,” she said turning toRavik.“Canyou sit down soIcan get to you?You’retoo tall to treat standing up.”
Ravik seemed willing to comply with his “mate” and he sat on the chair, though he still kept his hand cupped around his shaft.Themetal chair creaked ominously under his weight but held.
Severin wondered uneasily how badly he had injured himself there.Thatwas a sensitive area and it might be difficult to treat if his friend wouldn’t cooperate.
Gods,Iwish he could understand me again!Imiss the oldRavik,he thought and felt an ache in his chest.
The oldRavikwould have been complaining by now.Notwhining—never that—but growling that a few minor burns were nothing and orderingSeverinto treat his own damn hand before it blistered worse.TheoldRavikwould have made some dry comment aboutfikkabeetles being a poor choice forFirstMealor accusedSeverinof burningthessamash often enough that he had no right to judge anyone else’s cooking.
ThisRavikonly sat whereCassandratold him to sit, his cloudy eyes fixed on her face, breathing her in like a drowning male inhaling air.
The sight hurtSeverin’sheart.Ithad almost seemed like theBeastKindredwas getting back to normal last night.He’dbeen speaking in whole sentences and was no longer talking about himself in the third person.Hehad remembered humor.Hehad remembered desire.Hehad even remembered enough restraint to obeyCassandra’srules when the three of them were lying in the huge, heatedVisskousmating bed together.
Severin’s mouth went dry as a memory flashed through him—Cassandraspread beneath them, her soft curves bared to their eyes, her thighs open asRavikpleasured her with his fingers.Hecould still taste the flavor of her honey mixed with the salt ofRavik’sskin on his tongue…could still smell the sound of her moaning both of their names.
He shoved the memory away with brutal force.
No—not now.
This wasnotthe time to think aboutCassandra’sripe breasts or the way she had trembled between them.Itwas not the time to think about how much he had wanted to crawl between her thighs and taste the honeyRavikhad been so desperate for.Andit wasdefinitelynot the time to remember how right it had felt whenRaviktouched her and she invitedSeverinto touch her too—as though there might somehow be room for both of them in her desire.
Ravik had regressed—that mattered more than the memory of last night.
Just a few minutes away fromCassandra’sscent and he had slid almost all the way back to his former non-verbal state.Perhapsnotallthe way—he was still speaking, still responding somewhat to simple commands—but the change was dramatic and deeply concerning.
Her scent and her honey can reverse the virus—but only as long as he’s being continuously subjected to them—to her,Severinthought.Itmade him believe thatCassandra’sbody chemistry wasn’t exactly a cure.Ornot a permanent one, anyway.Maybeit was more of a suppressive agent.Atemporary neurological antagonist to the viral bonding override.
TheHungerViruswas unlike anything he had ever studied.Itdid not merely replicate in tissue—it rewrote instinct.IntheVisskous, it first colonized the mucosal lining around the mouth and nasal slits, hence the red “blood sign” that appeared before the full hunger phase.Fromthere, it invaded the olfactory bulb and limbic structures, hijacking appetite, aggression, and mate-recognition pathways until the infected no longer perceived others as people.
They only saw meat.
InKindredblood, the virus behaved differently.Itwas slower—more cunning.Whichwasn’t a very scientific assessment, but that was how it felt toSeverin.
Ravik’s immune system had fought the virus fiercely at first, producing a flood of inflammatory proteins and cellular scavengers that had kept the viral load low for weeks.Butthe virus had adapted.Ithad bypassed the worst of his systemic defenses and gone for the neural tissue instead, creeping through the pathways that controlled speech, recognition, and higher reasoning.
Which was why the old anti-viral serums had slowed the progression in his blood samples but done nothing to restore his mind.
But somehowCassandrarestored his mind—or rather, something aboutCassandradid.
Her scent was clearly a factor,Severinthought.Sowas her taste—if last night was any indication.Ravikhad improved dramatically after tasting her honey, and his eyes had cleared completely by the time she came between them.Butthe improvement hadn’t lasted once he left her proximity.
So what was happening?
