Page 53 of Shadow

“How did you check their brain activity?” I asked, curiosity piqued. Considering the hounds turned to dust when they died, the scans must have been done while they were alive.

“Brain scans, just like it was done pre-war,” he replied matter-of-factly.

The Warriors seemed to have found more efficient ways to run their electrical grid that didn’t attract hounds. The Federation claimed that electromagnetic pulses caused by the hounds disrupted everything, but they also said our food supplies were limited. It was another claim I had started to doubt. My father had once grumbled about the upper echelon enjoying too much good cuisine. I hadn’t connected the dots back then. Seeing how King and his people ate, I was now questioning everything I previously thought.

“I’d like to take another look at the hounds,” I said.

“You’ll need King’s permission for that.” Axel gestured toward the room where the man lay beneath the blanket. “He should be waking up soon if you want to ask him yourself.”

“King slept in there?”

“Not by choice. He’s the dumb one who went hunting hellhounds last night.”

Two things hit me at once: Axel wasn’t talking about the hounds they had already captured, and King had been injured.

Before the good doctor could stop me, I was up and moving. At the foot of the bed, I caught sight of King’s face, half-buried beneath the blanket.

The doctor leaned casually against the doorway. “He took a bite to the shoulder. It’ll be sore for a few days, but it won’t stop him from pulling another crazy stunt.”

My stunned gaze remained on Axel. “He can survive a hellhound bite?” From the conversations I had with my father, I knew hellhound saliva was as deadly to the Warriors as it was to humans.

Axel nodded. “We’ve developed a formula since arriving on the island. If we administer a combination of antibiotics with some other ingredients immediately after a scratch or bite, it gives our bodies a chance to heal. Humans, however, don’t heal like we do, so we’re not sure if we’ll ever create an antidote that works for you.” He offered a faint, wry smile. “From the number of bites and scratches King’s had recently, I’m surprised he isn’t immune.”

“Now you’ve left me no choice but to kill her,” King growled from the bed.

I turned toward the voice and saw him trying, and failing miserably, to sit up. I moved closer to the head of the bed. “You don’t scare me. I know I’m not having my best day, but you look like something the cat dragged in.”

“Poor cat,” Axel mumbled. “Save your threats for someone they’ll work on, King. I think she has your number.”

I gave King my most wicked smile. “If by ‘number’ you mean 666, then yeah, I do.”

“That’s a good one,” Axel chuckled. “I’ll have to remember it.” He backed out the door. “Keep my patient in bed, and I’ll owe you one. I’ve got a few things to check on.”

And just like that, I was alone with King.

Last night. Oh God.Maybe he didn’t remember.

But when he patted the bed beside him, the exact spot where he’d sat on mine the previous evening, with a developing smirk on his lips, I knew I couldn’t be that lucky.

“Scared?” he asked softly, his tone laced with a challenge.

“Petrified,” I replied with more sass than I actually felt. At least the pills Axel had given me should kick in soon. I sat down cautiously, my gaze drifting to the man who had occupied my thoughts all morning.

“How bad is it?” I asked, my voice quieter now. The blanket rested at his waist, and he was more slouched than propped up on the pillow.

“I’ll be fine in a few hours,” he said, brushing off the concern. “How’s the head?”

I needed to look anywhere but at the muscles that had my attention locked in a vise grip.Was I drooling?I discreetly wiped at my mouth, just in case.

“Cat got your tongue?”

I laughed despite myself. “If it’s the same cat that dragged you in here, then probably so.”

He was pale and visibly tired, and yet I was responding to him in a way that confused me. I was sober now, and I didn’t like the bulky muscle look.Liar,my brain screamed as a sharp pang jabbed my head, making me grimace.

“My head is still attached, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said, deflecting. “And I apologize for anything I might’ve said or done last night. I don’t remember much of it.”

His laugh was louder than I had ever heard before, and the sound caught me off guard. “Oh, you remember. Your cheeks went pink when I invited you to sit on the bed. You remember everything you said.”

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