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“Right.” Maybe I’m in shock, too, because I fail to catch the key and bend to grab it. When I walk out of Sindri’s room, my knees are knocking together.
Jesus. What if we hadn’t gone to find him, if Ashton hadn’t been waiting for him, if we hadn’t been worried? If Ashton hadn’t broken down the door?
How do people survive without others to take care of them? How did these boys survive until now?
Ashton applies butterfly bandages to keep the wound closed and sprays it all again with antiseptic, then I help him tape a bigger bandage over everything.
“Why do you keep a first aid kit in your room?” I whisper. “And how do you know how to treat such wounds?”
“Need breeds experience, experience breeds organization.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that I’m tired of seeing people around me suffer without doing anything to help. So I’m prepared to take care of them. I took a first aid course last year, and bought this kit, and to be honest, it only came in handy since you appeared on the scene.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He shoots a grin at me. “I wasn’t complaining.”
“Really?”
He puts down the kit and reaches for me, splays his hand over my cheek, brushes a strand of hair off. “Really. Now…”
“What?”
“Get in bed with him,” he says, standing up.
“I’m sorry?”
Ashton is already undressing, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head. I mean, sure, it’s wet and smeared with blood, but…
I’m watching him with an open mouth. “What…?”
“He’s hypothermic. He could die, fae or not. We need to warm him up. Skin-to-skin works best.”
“Oh.” I watch Ashton unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans, push them down.
I swallow hard. Make myself look away from his washboard stomach, his firm pecs, the muscles shifting in his strong arms, the beautiful line of his neck—and yeah, let’s not even talk about what he has going on below the waist, the bulge in his blue briefs, the muscular legs…
Move it, Mia.
By the time I remove my top and my pants, Ashton has already slipped into bed, sliding in behind Sindri who’s lying on his side, wrapping both arms around him and pulling the covers over them. Sindri’s face is slack, blue and black hair in his eyes, one pointed, bejeweled ear poking out, strangely beautiful and delicate.
Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I step out of my shoes, out of the puddle of my clothes on the floor, and slip into bed with them in my undies, the ones Jason chose for me.
I curl up facing Sindri, pressing my body to his as much as I can—and gasp at the iciness of his skin. Ashton was right, Sindri is frozen stiff. God knows how long he was passed out in that shower. The thought sends spider cracks through my heart. I should have checked on him earlier. I should have checked on all of them, and it kills me that I can’t have them together, with me, so that I can hug them and kiss them and…
And I don’t know what’s happening with me, why I feel like I’m in love with all of them. It’s not possible. Can’t be.
Shouldn’t be.
I shift closer, wrap an arm over Sindri. Ashton gives me a faint smile over Sindri’s shoulder and pulls the covers over me, too.
I close my eyes, lulled by their scents, their presence, the faint hum of their magic so close to me, under my fingertips, and don’t realize when I fall asleep.
Drifting through landscapes both familiar and strange—the city, the hospital, the grounds of the Academy, Ophelia laid out under a tree with symbols scrawled around her, Ophelia in a glass coffin that’s cracking down the middle—
Until Sindri jerks and I open my eyes to find him staring at me, shivers racking his body. “Mia?”
