Cal noticed.
He’d always been razor-sharp at spotting vulnerability in the guests who came to my shore, using them to his advantage to keep men in line. It fucked me off that he assessed me with the same stare.
“Can’t kill me off that easily.” He grinned, his pallor pasty and body not its usual vital self.
“Ah, don’t worry.” I smirked. “I’ll come up with other ways.”
Dr Campbell rolled his eyes as Cal snickered and held up his arm. “Glad you’re still breathing, Sinclair.”
I clasped hands with him, squeezing with relief that my friend and second-in-command was still alive and his usual acerbic self. “Likewise, Moor.” I glanced down his body at the tubes disappearing under the sheet covering him, the wheeze as he breathed, the etching of agony around his eyes that hinted his quips wouldn’t last long until he either demanded stronger painkillers or succumbed to sleep to numb it.
“They might get to nibble on you after all, Cal.” I forced a chuckle. “Who knows if you’ll pull through. You look like shit.”
“He’ll pull through,” Campbell muttered. “He’s getting stronger every day. Only woke ten hours ago and has already improved rapidly…thanks to a few of your unapproved drugs, Sinclair.”
I threw him a nod. “Use whatever you need.”
Cal assessed me in the same way. “Know what? Those sharks of yours can have a chew on you. You’re not looking so good yourself.”
I scoffed and broke our grip. “Me? Nothing wrong with me.”
“Of course there isn’t.” He grinned. His attention flicked to Eleanor as she slipped to my side. “So…you found your way back, huh?”
This joviality was wrong.
This was delaying a justified murder of my brother.
“I did.” Eleanor nodded; her gaze direct but guarded. It hadn’t escaped my knowledge that there was no love lost between these two. A competition lurked beneath their interactions. I supposed I should be honoured that the two people closest to me felt some sort of possession over me, but I wouldn’t tolerate it.
Not now Eleanor is a permanent fixture in my life.
However long that might be.
“You told me to keep her if she ever came back.” I crossed my arms. “Might just take your advice.”
Cal’s green gaze shot to mine. “Got yourself a new pet, sir?” He laughed under his breath, wincing as he held the two bullet holes in his torso that Campbell had hopefully fixed.
“Worse.” I smiled. “If we get out of this mess intact, it seems I now have a wife.”
Eleanor sucked in a breath beside me, her cheeks pinking as Cal’s gaze popped wide. “Holy shit.”
Cal stared at Eleanor, his blasé welcome switching to sincerity. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for being a little, eh, cold to you. I was wrong. You’re not like the others, and it seems you can be trusted. I told Sinclair not to send you away, by the way. I knew the asshole was in love with you before he did.”
Eleanor rubbed the back of her hand where the IV line had been removed. “I don’t really know what to say to that—”
“Say we can be friends and let it be the end of—”
Pika’s screech shut Cal up as the chaotic caique ricocheted around the room. His feathers gleamed and his infectious joy dusted all of us as Campbell came through the door holding a silver tray, soft gauze, and a tiny patient in the middle.
“Skittles!” Eleanor headed straight toward the female parrot, the canary yellow shirt so big on her stunning frame. Skittles puffed up and screeched loud enough to hurt my ears.
Eleanor’s legs still wobbled a little, her body would be undoubtedly sore from how rough I’d fucked her, doing my damnedest to get her to come before she died in my arms.
I sighed as my chest ached.
She’d been so fucking close to dying.
I could still feel the tremor of her pulse. The unbearable contortion of her body as she drowned beneath pleasure that’d become insurmountable pain.
She’d scared me.
Scared me straight in so many ways.
It was a minutely battle not to hover over her, to listen to her breath and press my hand over her heart to ensure it pumped reliably. It terrified me that we were such a fragile species. Ruin one organ and death followed.
Have I shaved decades off her life because of what I’ve done?
“Fuck, you’ve got it bad.” Cal snickered under his breath.
I was tempted to punch him, but he hissed as the damage to his body dragged him under again. He had enough pain without me adding to it. Instead, I threw him a one finger salute and half-padded, half-limped across the surgery to where Campbell had placed Skittles on a bench beside the sink and antiseptic supplies.
Pika was beside himself, hopping, stomping, purring. He head-butted Skittles until she snapped at him, he pranced around with his wings spread like the savage dictator he was. “Hello. Hi. Lazy.” He rolled over onto his back, his scaly legs kicking air, his happiness unable to be contained.