Page 17 of Primal Bonds

Sure, the man was sexy in a dark, dangerous way, but he was hurt, for God’s sake. And even if he wasn’t, he was a fada—and a Baltimore earth fada at that. Everyone knew they were a murderous clan. She was surprised any of them were still left alive.

The last thing she wanted was to have anything to do with a Baltimore shifter.

No, she’d make sure Mr. Jace No-Last-Name left as soon as he was able, then pray she never saw him again.

Back in the living room, Jace sank down on the couch. He closed his eyes and bent forward at the waist, his breath ragged. It was clear he was hurting.

Evie turned on the lamp next to the easy chair. “You’re hot. I’ll turn up the air conditioner.” With that done, she shoved her hands into her back pockets, feeling helpless. “Are you hungry? I can make you some chicken soup. Or—”

“I don’t think I can eat anything right now,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Yeah, right.” She flushed, recalling he’d taken a knife in the belly. “Maybe something that digests easily? I have popsicles.” Her mom had given them popsicles whenever she or Kyler were sick.

“A popsicle.” His hard mouth edged up. “Okay, sure.”

“Be right back.” She hurried to the kitchen and returned with an orange popsicle. It would put more liquids in him, and maybe the sugar would give him some extra energy.

While he ate the popsicle, she rinsed his T-shirt out in the bathroom sink and hung it up to dry before getting a popsicle for herself. When she came back, he was reclined on the couch, still sucking the popsicle. A cat’s paw was tattooed in black and gold on his upper left arm. He saw her looking and his face shuttered, so she didn’t ask, just curled up on the easy chair again.

The cuts on his abdomen were still an angry red, but they were starting to close. “I think you’re healing,” she said.

He nodded. “It’s going to be a rough night, but this helps.” He indicated the popsicle. “Feels like my fucking belly’s on fire.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“You did good. I just need to rest now, give it time to heal.”

She wrapped her arms around her legs. “What happened, anyway?”

“Some bastard night fae stuck a knife in me.”

“The one that was outside?”

“No. The guy who stabbed me is dead.”

She gulped. “Oh.”

He regarded her from beneath thick lashes, as if expecting her to cringe from him. But she knew that sometimes, you don’t have a choice.

Jace’s eyes closed. Silence fell while they sucked on their popsicles.

“Iron,” she said. “It was an iron knife? That’s why you’re feverish?”

He nodded. “You know what iron does to a fae?”

“Sure.” Everyone knew that iron was a fae’s Achilles’ heel. They couldn’t even stand it against their bare skin. “It’s like poison for them. But you’re a fada, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. But we have some fae in us. Iron doesn’t affect the fada as bad, but it’s still poison to us. And the knife was probably cold-forged—formed into a blade at room temperature. That makes a difference.”

“Salt neutralizes the iron?”

“Yeah, but don’t ask me how. It just does.”

She opened her mouth to ask why the night fae had stabbed him, and then closed it again. It was better she didn’t know.

“That’s right,” he said, seemingly reading her mind. “The less you know, the better.” He slid down on the couch until he was prone again. “I’ll be all right, now. You can go to bed.”

She shook her head. “I’m staying right here in case you need me.”

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