Page 30 of The Rogue's Curse

“Let us know what you find out,” Paris said. Rhys nodded, and before he could go, he grasped the nurse’s arm gently. “Thank you for taking care of him. We couldn’t do this with you.”

Rhys smirked. “I know you couldn’t. And since you’re here anyway, come have a seat and let me check you out.”

“That won’t be—” Paris protested.

“You couldn’t do this without me, remember?” Rhys asked with a knowing smirk.

Misha nodded to him. “Come to my office to debrief when you’re done.” He lifted his eyes to Rhys. “He was injured in the fighting at Infinity. It appeared to be his chest.”

Fury boiled up in Paris, but he held his tongue. Who did the smug Russian bastard think he was?Giving orders and now sticking his fucking nose into Paris’s personal business?

Given the choice between smiling Rhys and smug Misha, he chose the man that hadn’t plagued his dreams with carnal decadence. Following Rhys into the cozy exam room, he plopped onto the table. The motion made his body ache, and he hated to admit that Misha was right. The vampire he’d fended off from Avery had hit him like a truck. Untethered vampires were stronger than Covenant-bound vampires like him even on a good day, and he was much weaker than his usual. He bit his tongue as he peeled off his holsters and finally took off his shirt.

Blood oozed from the wound Shea had left in his chest, freshly bruised and reopened by the fighting. Rhys was quiet as he prepared his supplies. He began to gently clean the wound with deft, light strokes. “You shouldn’t have been out in the field,” he finally said.

“I know,” Paris said blankly.

“No one will consider you less of a leader if you take care of yourself,” Rhys said.

Paris gritted his teeth. “Won’t they? This court only exists because we lost faith in Eduardo. Because he sat back and did nothing.”

“Because he turned his back on innocents. Eduardo was not sitting back because he was grievously wounded in a fight for our survival and needed time to recuperate before rejoining the fray,” Rhys said hotly. “Paris, no one in their right mind would accuse you of not giving a damn about us.”

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, trying to hold back the heat from his tongue.

Rhys shook his head. “It’s amazing how you can say fuck off without saying it.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t insult me. I know you,” Rhys said flatly. “At least eat something before you go. Or I’ll tell our Crown visitor that you’re not in good enough condition to be in the field.”

His eyes widened. “You insubordinate little shit,” he said, though he appreciated Rhys’s cunning.

The nurse’s eyes twinkled, a faint smirk curling at his lips. “You can’t do this without me,” he reminded Paris. He left the small exam room and returned several minutes later with a heated blood bag. “I’m going to have Shoshanna brew you a nouvelle vie and you’re going to drink it tomorrow.”

“I don’t need special treatment,” Paris said.

“Letting you ignore my advice is special treatment,” Rhys said. Then he pointed to the door. “Go back to work.”

“You’re lucky you’re so good at what you do,” Paris said, sliding off the table as he took a long drink. The warmed blood refreshed him, instantly sending a rush of warmth through his system. He eyed Rhys. “Did you add something to this?”

“Nothing you can pronounce,” Rhys replied. “And for the record, luck has nothing to do with it, no more than you’re lucky to be good in a fight. Have a good evening, sir.”

Paris rolled his eyes, retrieved his weapons, and slid past Rhys on his way out of the room. As much as he dreaded it, he had to visit Dom. The scent of his friend found him through the blood and mildew, through the thick layer of cleaning products that spoke of Rhys and Elspeth’s devotion to cleanliness and order.

What was he supposed to tell Dom? Another day, another failure to bring down Shea?

He crept down the hall, freezing when he saw the door slightly ajar. The scent drifting out was Rachel Ryan; a pleasantly familiar smell that still stoked a sense of dread. She sat at Dom’s bedside, speaking quietly to him.It had been a few days since her last visit. Shea’s brutal attacks had left Rachel and Dominic afraid for their daughter’s safety. Rachel had been forced to reveal the truth to her mother, who had instantly agreed to move to a vacation home temporarily.

Since then, Rachel had been splitting her time between Atlanta to check on Dominic and North Carolina to keep an eye on her daughter. Their old friend Lucia, who had always adored Dominic, often visited him during the day and read to him.

Rachel looked over her shoulder and frowned at him. She looked exhausted, her eyes distant and dark. As she always did, she regained control of her expression a few moments later and nodded to him. “Paris,” she said mildly.

“It’s good to see you, Rachel,” he said.

Her lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, as if she’d remembered the polite thing slightly too late. “You too.”

She was a terrible liar.“Anything?” he asked.

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