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Zee was safe, he told himself.
She was safe. Shale was alive.
The door opened and he looked up to see Deena standing in the doorway. She met his gaze and waved him in.
“Yasmin just helped him finish getting dressed,” she said, referring to her partner and lover.
Deena's dark, doe-like eyes were somber, but there was a softer light there that spoke of relief.
It was enough to ease a little more of the tension in his gut. “He's stable.”
“Yes.” A smile bloomed on her face. “And mean as a snake, if I might say. Having Yasmin help him is crushing his pride, like getting help is something so awful. I told him it could be worse.”
“Yeah?” Niko smiled.
“Yeah.” Her smiled widened. “Either he lets Yasmin help him clean up, then she'll help him sit up in the bed before you come in, or she leaves him lying there and he his Prime lying flat on his back and covered in sweat with traces of blood on him because he was too damn foolish and prideful to let a packmate help.”
Niko stroked a hand down Deena's soft blonde curls. “You and Yasmin have such a way with people.”
“We do just fine when snarling dominant wolves aren't pitching fits and being stupid.” Her dimples flashed briefly before fading, the worry from last night making a brief reappearance. “We could have lost him, Niko. Last night, we could have lost him.”
“Ya can't get ridda me that easily,” Shale said from inside the room, his voice raspy, his accent thicker than normal.
“Come on. Let's go see the growling asshole,” Niko said, his relief now clutching at his throat.
He was greeted with a rusty laugh from the growling asshole as he entered but Shale was out of breath by the time Niko reached his side. The head of the bed had been elevated, Shale's long, dark hair a sharp contrast to the snowy white sheets and the bandages swathing his broad chest.
His cheeks were gaunt, a sign of how much energy healing was sucking out of him in an attempt to repair the near-fatal injury. His normally golden skin had a sallow tinge to it. Even his scent was wrong, thick with the scent of blood from his wound.
“You need food,” Niko said, scowling.
“They keep threatening me with broth.” Shale jabbed a thumb at the tall woman standing on the opposite side of the bed.
Yasmin couldn't look more different from her lover, Deena. Where Deena was petite and sweetly curved with porcelain skin, lush, plump pink lips and big blue eyes, Yasmin was almost six feet tall, her skin a few shades darker than honey, her muscles lithely toned, her curves so slight to be almost non-existent. When cornered, she could fight like a demon possessed but Yasmin was one of the more submissive members in his pack. She typically worked well with Deena. None of the wolves, even the grouchiest, surliest injured dominants, wanted to snap at her and risk hurting her feelings.
The woman knew it, too, and she took advantage of it.
“I simply told you that if you wouldn't let me help you, you'd be too tired and worn out by the time somebody from the pack brought you a real meal and you'd be stuck with whatever the hospital sent up, which could be broth for all we knew,” Yasmin said, her voice lyrical and smooth.
Shale shot her a dour look. “I've got your number, Yaz. You're nowhere near as sweet and gentle as people think. It's a mask, a fucking mask.”
She laughed and patted his shoulder. “I'll step outside and call about your food. Somebody should be here soon.”
Yasmin left, Deena grinning at Shale before closing the door behind them.
“If she wasn't head over heels in love with Deena, I swear, I'd beg that woman to give me a chance,” Shale said with a hard sigh, eyes still on the door.
“You'd have to become female and I don't see that happening.” Niko folded his arms over his chest and gave Shale a critical once-over. “You're healing.”
“Yes.” Lashes lowering, he blew out a breath, then winced, bringing a hand to his chest. “Fuck me, but that hurts.”
“I don't even know how you're awake to talk to me, much less bitch about something hurting.”
Shale's gaze slid to the window. “If it wasn't for my mum's blood, I doubt I would be. There... I felt something stir in me last night. Another Fae. Was it Starfell?”
Niko shifted, unfamiliar with the discomfort that stirred inside him. Eirian Starfell—or Leana Shea, as she chose to call herself, stood outside any known hierarchy among Preterns. Although she had Nightdweller blood, she didn't ally with any of the clans or families that had formed after the war and she openly shunned any Fae who tried to reach out to her.
She was cordial to Therian and Atargarian alike, but preferred to keep to herself—at least as far as he knew.
