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"I say leave her a bit longer. Jasper will be pissed if he doesn't see for himself that she's okay, and I don't relish the idea of Archie crying all night because she didn't get to talk to him. They went through hell last night, the least we can do is let them have some peace today, even if it's just for a few minutes. I..." A cell phone rang, muffled but insistent. The tone grew louder. "Shit, I have to answer this. I'll be back in a few minutes."
More footsteps stomping away. Why did everyone have to stomp?
"Liam, help me get Archie into the chair. I'll ask if the nurses have a pillow and a blanket we can borrow."
"Don't...touch...her..." The words vibrated through Archie's head, slow and rumbling. She thought she was imagining them, but they stirred her out of her doze. "She's...fine."
A little less than fine, she found out as she tried to push herself upright. Her muscles were locked into position, her lower back aching. Wincing, she eased herself up enough to turn her head on his chest and meet heavy-lidded, cloudy blue eyes. "Master Jasper."
"Kitten." One corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “There you are.”
Her world tilted steeply and settled back into its rightful angle.
***
Chapter Nineteen
His friends had no respect for a dying man.
Jasper squinted blearily at Anarchy, attempting a smile that only lifted one corner of his mouth. Damn, that morphine was good shit. He was relieved to still be blanketed under the pain meds, that stunning pain kept at bay for the time being. It gave him a lovely opportunity to savor the slight weight of his submissive as she leaned over him.
Her eyes were swollen with shed tears, the faint remnants of them tracking down her cheeks. The brown of her irises were huge vats of molten chocolate, sucking him down into them. Into her. He forced himself to break free of their hold before he sank into oblivion again.
"I've been so worried." Her bottom lip quivered. "Everything went to hell."
That was an understatement and a half, Jasper thought. With effort, he lifted his hand and set it on her back. Though his movements were jerky, he rubbed soothingly. "Hell in a handbasket," he agreed haltingly, pronouncing every word with care. "Incredibly proud of you, Archie."
When her eyes filled, he wished the meds would wear off faster. He felt numb and ungainly, not quite connected to the world, and he needed to be planted solidly in reality. There was a mess to clear up, a sub to tend, and he wasn't going to just flop around in bed while Atticus and his friends cleaned house in Jasper's universe.
"Sweetheart, you need to sit down." Connie loomed behind Archie, her gray eyes sad as they locked with Jasper's. There was a lot said between them in those few seconds of connection, before the Domme broke it to help his sub stand shakily. "Let's just move the chair closer to the bed, then you can stay near Jasper for a little while."
The chair legs scraped over the floor, not quite with the ferocity of nails down a chalkboard, but enough to make his eardrums complain about the noise. Archie sank gracefully into the padded seat and immediately reached for his hand, linking her fingers with his so tightly, he doubted she was letting go anytime soon.
He felt like half a man without her compressing his chest, but it was easier to draw a breath. Fighting to shake off the rest of the morphine, he skimmed his gaze over the room, then grinned slowly. "Thought I heard the three stooges. I see one...where'd the other two go?"
Liam chuckled from near the doorway. "Well, Connie threatened to emasculate Larry—sorry, Loki—with her new instrument of torture, so he tucked his dick between his legs and ran downstairs for coffee."
Coffee? Jasper's ears pricked. He could use some coffee.
"No coffee for you just yet." Connie shook her head slowly, resting her hand on Archie's shoulder. Damn mind reader.
"If I want coffee, Con—"
Narrow gray slits of authority lasered into his face. "If you want coffee, Jasper, you'll have to wait until you can walk ten goddamn paces without support."
Oh, she had something stuck in her craw. Now she was talking to him, her voice was tight, and her face was strained. He'd known her for long enough to read her perfectly; the Mistress was pissed. He wrestled his other arm from the beneath the thin blanket and fumbled with the remote that controlled the bed until it lifted his torso into a more comfortable sitting position. "Might as well get it over with, huh? Go ahead, Connie. Cut loose."
"It can wait," she ground out between clenched teeth.
Anarchy's face was a picture of stunned confusion as she looked between him and their friend. In silent support, she tightened her fingers around his until they all turned white.
"That's not the way it works, and you know it. Liam," Jasper called, taking a deep breath. The drug curtain was lifting slowly, much to his relief. He preferred to have a sharp mind and a ready tongue, especially if Connie was raring for a fight. "Would you mind shutting the door?"
"Uh-oh." The blond Viking did as he was asked, then leaned back against it as an added precaution.
When Connie lost her temper, anyone who walked into the firing line got shot. No exceptions.
"You've got the floor, Constance. Give me both barrels."
