Page 31

A figure walked across his line of sight. Tall, messy blonde waves falling over bare shoulders. He crouched in front of the cast-iron furnace, opened it, and fussed about before standing again.

It was Royce, shirtless and covered in sweat, his jeans hanging low on his hips. He had a bundle of split wood in his arms, moving from the main sitting room off to other corners of the cabin. Presumably to add more wood to those furnaces as well.

Theodore still despised alphas, but at this moment, with the fires roaring, making him warm and cozy in his blanket nest, a sliver of appreciation for them swelled in his breast.

The alpha returned and knelt in front of the sofa, his face broke out in a grin.

“Hey, Doc, how you feelin’? Your eyes are open, are you actually awake this time?” Royce raised a cloth and gently drew it across Theodore’s brow. It was damp and cool and felt amazing. “Your eyes are tracking my movements now, that’s a good sign. Here, it’s time for your next dose of stomach meds, can you sit up?”

Theodore watched Royce fiddle with a prescription bottle and measuring cup. Theodore tried to talk, to move, all that happened was his head lulled to the side and an odd groan rattled in the back of his throat. Royce just smiled.

“That’s alright. I got you, Doc.”

Something warm and rough wrapped around the back of his neck, steadying his head and lifting him upward. The cup of medicine Royce was holding was brought to Theodore’s lips and gently poured into his mouth. Cherry.

“This is supposed to help with your stomach lining and some of your other symptoms. Buford said if you’re up to it, you should start with some broth or soup.”

With a groan, Theodore’s head lulled to the side again. For some unfathomable reason, Royce smiled wider, his tan face glowing and all his teeth on display. He looked so darn happy, and Theodore couldn’t fathom why.

“I saw you had something that looked like pumpkin soup in your fridge, you want some of that?”

Squash, Theodore wanted to correct him, but all that came out was a groan.

“I’ll heat up a little bit, and we’ll see how much you can have, yeah?”

Royce’s eager face disappeared. Somewhere in there, Theodore must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was being woken by the strong scent of soup and someone rearranging him in his nest. To his credit, Royce took care to sit him up without overtly disturbing his cocoon of blankets.

Spoonfuls of warmed soup were brought to his lips and carefully tipped into his mouth. He swallowed reflexively, surprised to find with each spoonful his stomach cramping lessened. He was also confused; he expected to smell the rich pureed squash and spices, but there was an undertone of oranges, and was that ozone? Why did his soup smell like the outdoors?

“There ya go, Doc. Good job, you got almost half a bowl.” Royce kept up his monologue while he fed Theodore.

“That’s not my name.” Theodore’s words were slurred, sounding more like sthsnmnas. Somehow Royce understood him.

“Yeah … I figured Dr. James Abbott wasn’t your real name, after I, ah … looked in your truffle tin.” Royce blushed. Theodore had half a mind to think it was cute. “Don’t worry, I kept it to myself. I wanted to call every enforcer in Elk Cove and hunt down—but I also wanted to wait until you woke up so I could ask you some questions. We don’t have to talk about that now though. The only thing that matters is that you get better. I’ll keep you safe until then.”

Royce fed him more soup until Theodore turned his head away. He needed a breather.

“That’s good, you ate a lot, Doc. Here, give me a sec. Buford will want to know you’re awake. Maybe since you’re eating, he’ll take out your IV.”

Royce left, and Theodore heard a muffled conversation from somewhere in the cabin. He blinked, his hazy eyes strained to focus on something while his mind slushy tried to piece together what was happening. He attempted to get up and look around, but his trembling arms betrayed him, and he collapsed back into the sofa.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, let me help you.” Royce had appeared out of nowhere to help. “Oh yeah, you probably need these.”

Theodore’s wire glasses were slid onto his nose.

His breath faltered. Royce was very, very close. Royce’s sun-tanned face was hollow, large circles settled under his eyes. Theodore could have sworn those purple bruises hadn’t been there when they first met. Or at least not as prominent. He was also sporting a healthy coating of stubble, and his waves were a tangled mess.

“You look like crap,” Theodore mumbled.

Royce laughed; it did something odd to the pit of Theodore’s stomach. His nostrils flared. Oranges and rainstorms wafted into his senses. Royce took a deep, deliberate breath through the nose, his eyes flashing gold.

“Ho-how long?” Theodore croaked out.

“What?” Royce rasped, his eyes unfocused.

“How long have I been …”

“Oh, this is day four.”