Sloane sighed. “I warned him about that.”
“Because he’s so good at listening,” Dex said, rolling his eyes. At least the guy had stopped peeping on them. Not so much because Sloane had told him not to for the billionth time, but because something—or someone—else seemed to have captured Austen’s full attention.
After giving Sloane a thorough good-bye kiss, Dex stood in the doorway with a silly grin on his face as he watched Sloane get into the Impala. The passenger-side window slid down, and Sloane waved at him before pulling away from the curb.
Dex closed the door behind him, then made sure it was locked. A deep sense of loss hit him out of the blue. He shivered and put a hand to the wall for support. What the hell? A wave of nausea almost knocked him over, and he ran to the kitchen, hurling when he reached the trash bin. When he was done, he grabbed the clean, wet dish towel hanging over the edge of the sink to wipe his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body to calm down. When he felt like he could move without puking, he rinsed his mouth out. Was it possible whatever Wolf gave him was still working its way out of his system? That had been days ago. TIN had assured him no traces of it remained.
Dex turned, and his insides erupted in a fiery explosion of agonizing pain. It swept through his body like lightning strikes to his organs and muscles. His legs gave out from under him, and he hit the floor. His back arched violently, his muscles feeling like they were trying to burst out of his skin. His heartbeat soared, and Dex clenched his teeth. He wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t. Oh God, he was so scared. What was happening to him?
“Quick, put him on the table.”
Who the hell was that? Dex was in too much pain to figure it out. His vision was sharp yet dark at the edges. Hands took hold of him and lifted him, carried him and held him securely as his body twisted brutally. The pain came in waves, each one stronger than the last. He felt tears roll down his cheeks, but there was nothing he could do.
“Don’t let him hit hi
s head,” someone else said. Seconds later, his head was carefully secured.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. Boss said we needed to watch him. The tests were inconclusive. He’s not… normal.”
Dex would have laughed if he could. Story of my life. Was he having a seizure? Surely he wouldn’t be aware if he was. At least he knew the people in his house were TIN operatives. For the first time, he was grateful for their vigilance.
A light shone in one eye, then the other as he convulsed on the table. He was aware of hands on him, holding him down, on his arms, legs, torso, thighs, and ankles.
“Make a note. His pupils are fully dilated.”
“He’s strong,” another said. “Really strong.”
That happened with seizures, didn’t it? A white light burst in front of his eyes, and everything he felt swept through him in a rush, erupting from his mouth in a fierce scream that almost sounded like a roar. The roar of an animal in agony. This was it. He was going to die.
“What the hell?”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Just hold him!”
“Dex, think of Sloane.”
Sparks?
“Empty your mind and think of nothing but Sloane.” She put her hand to Dex’s brow. “Think of the first time he told you he loved you.”
Dex closed his eyes and gritted his teeth so tight his jaw hurt. His heart was going to beat out of his chest. No. Think of Sloane. Dex thought about the first time he saw Sloane sparring with Ash in Sparta. His smile had blown Dex away. Dex thought of all the fun they’d had in the office, his time teasing Sloane, driving him crazy, playing pranks on him. He recalled all the times Sloane got his payback. He thought of their first kiss, the first time they’d had sex, then made love. He thought about Sloane telling Dex he loved him.
“That’s it. Breathe. All you see is Sloane.”
Dex moaned. His body hurt. It was broken. His bones felt broken. He thought of Sloane on the couch with him, his head on Dex’s lap as they watched movies. He’d made Sloane purr again in Human form. Sloane pouted, and Dex laughed.
Something pricked Dex’s arm, and he flinched. He was tired, so tired. His eyelids grew heavy, and he appreciated the gentle fingers brushing through his hair, comforting. It was odd. Comfort wasn’t a word he’d ever associated with Sparks.
“Good. You did good.” Sparks’s voice was quiet when she turned away, but Dex heard her as if she’d been speaking in his ear. “Keep an eye on him. He has to make it through this. I don’t think I need to stress how important he is. Make sure he’s comfortable, and that he doesn’t remember this when he wakes up.”
Like that was going to happen. There was no way Dex wouldn’t remember this. He felt something cool against his skin, felt the prick of another needle before everything went black.
MUSIC. FAMILIAR and soothing.
Dex stirred with a smile. Journey.