“Ibuprofen,” he explains when he catches my dumbfounded look. “It should help with the pain and swelling. Hopefully, we can stop on the way to Aphrodite and find someone to heal you.”
“There are supernaturals who can do that?” I take the pills from him and throw them back, forgoing water.
I know a lot about the world, but there’s still so much for me to learn.
“Certain species are more gifted than others, yes.” His fingers tentatively caress my mottled cheek, eliciting a fresh round of goose bumps. “Fuck, I hate that this happened to you.”
“I’m not too upset.” I capture his wrist, but instead of pushing him away, I pull him closer, nuzzling against his palm. “It means that I’m still here. That I’m alive.”
His gaze momentarily flicks to my lips, which have instinctively parted. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to?
The answer to that last question is—yes. One thousand times yes.
My breath abandons me as I lean towards him. The air between us feels both stifled and charged, like waves of electricity are slicing through the air. All of the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention.
“You’re so beautiful,” Zaid whispers, his tone low and reverent.
I lean in even closer, my stomach moving in riotous swirls, and he lowers his head.
“We’re back!” Krystian doesn’t bother knocking as he pushes open the door, a wide, beguiling smile on his handsome face. The smile remains in place, even as his eyes flick between the two of us. “What’s going on here?”
Zaid backs away hastily, his cheeks bright red, and I pretend the blanket beneath me is immensely interesting.
“You horny dog,” Krystian continues, his shit-eating grin widening.
“Shut up,” Zaid mumbles.
Everett, who’s standing slightly behind Krystian, rolls his eyes and shoulders his way through.
He drops a plastic bag onto the bed beside me.
“Clothes,” he grunts out.
“Clothes?” I arch an eyebrow.
They were only gone for about fifteen minutes. How did they have time to go clothes shopping?
“And food,” exclaims Krystian cheerfully.
I’m glad to see that his usual humor and lightheartedness have returned. I hated seeing him so…melancholic and depressed. It made me want to run over to him, shake his shoulders, and tell him that I didn’t blame him for what happened. I actually had fun with Krys, despite my injury. And the bloodshed.
Krystian hands me a to-go box, a heavenly smell emitting from it. I pop open the lid, and my mouth nearly waters when I see a stack of fluffy pancakes and a side of syrup.
“Oh my god. I think I’m in love,” I moan.
“She’s talking to the food, right?” Krystian asks.
“Definitely,” Zaid says.
“Yes,” agrees Everett.
I ignore them as I dig into my breakfast.
“Where’s Rafe?” I ask around a mouthful of buttery pancakes.
Everett crinkles his nose in distaste. “Chew with your mouth shut.”
“Excuse me if I don’t know the proper way to eat,” I snap, taking another bite. “I haven’t eaten anything in, like, four hundred years.”
