Page 4 of To Claim A King
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was barely there, but it was real.
Thank the fucking gods.
I drew up and raised my eyes to the ceiling in silent thanks, determined to work out my payment to them later. My gaze dropped to our patient’s silent form, staring hardat every stoic wrinkle lining his face as if it would tell me when he’d wake up.
Hopefully, the gods weren’t cruel enough to dangle this hope in front of us and then take it away once we accepted the gift, like tricky little pixies.
“Thanks.” Kellan broke me out of my fixation, his voice gruff and gravel, layered with exhaustion. Our fierce, self-appointed leader was an unraveling mess.
I turned to assess the Viking impersonator. Sweat covered his brow like he’d just come out of battle and barely survived. Disheveled. Dirty. Bloodshot eyes and sallow skin. His suit and pants criss-crossed by Aaron’s dried blood.
Tasty, yet terrifying.
“Thanks, back.” I scrubbed the back of my neck with a soiled palm, my blood still buzzing with the major hit of adrenaline. We stared at each other across the bed, the air between us thicker than a Guinness. Without thinking, I reached for the back of his neck and hauled our heads together, closing my mouth over his in a desperate kiss.
I’d expected him to pull back or push me away; too fucking aloof on the best of days, but he fisted my hair instead, forced my lips open with his tongue, and thoroughly tasted me until I was dizzy.
He felt like passion, and protectiveness, and home. A wee bit more than a casual fuck.
More gently than I expected, he drew away, but the emotionless tulip wouldn’t look me in the eye again, turning his attention back to the man lying between us.
“Doc said if he made it through the night, he should be okay. I’ll keep an eye on him.” I gestured toward the door. “Maybe you should lay down too, ya? You’re cooked.”
Red-tinged navy eyes squinted into slits. “I’m not the problem here. Worry abouthim.” He thrust a large hand toward Aaron dressed only in boxers and two AED sticker paddles.
Moving carefully to peel the padded tape from Aaron’s chest, I winced when I ripped out a good chunk of hair. He barely stirred, the monitor still humming softly in the background.
“I’m more worried abouther.” I lied through my perfectly straight teeth, shooting him a meaningful glance across the bed. “Have you talked to Blondie yet?”
Kellan squirmed. “No. I tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer. She’ll find us.” His tone was tired but confident, as if it were only a matter of time.
Ahhh, yes. Everybody was stalking everybody in this little group. Well, in cases where our lives were on the line and we needed to hide out in super-secret quarters, that toxic trait was useful.
Despite his manly protests, he slumped into the chair where I’d been sitting and leaned over the bed with uncharacteristic care.
I was definitely right; something more was between these two than a relationship of convenience. Kellan’s eyes were solemn—almost tender. A stupid little flick of jealousy pricked my heart. He’d kissed me back and denied me in the same breath.
I didn’t want to almost die to have him look atmethat way, but…
Fuck, this little foursome was complicated.
We sat in silence for what had to be an hour—too tired and anxious to even try a conversation. When I was about to fall asleep in my hands, a masculine whimper jolted me upright.
A dark-lashed lid eased its way open, and I fought every urge in my body not to pounce. Aaron stared straight ahead through that one window, slowly opening the other until a two-eyed brown stare fixed on the ceiling above him.
The relief that flooded my bloodstream was so strong, like I’d taken a hit of ecstasy from a beautiful woman’s mouth. Fucking euphoric.
“About bloody time, you bastard!” I leaned over the bed, my face hovering right above his. “You fecking scared us, Roboto!”
So much for giving him space and keeping calm, but there we were. I’d gone through too much terror in the last few hours to contain myself any longer. This broody fucker was awake, and alive, and—
Kellan forced me back by the shoulders, then leaned beside me a few feet above Aaron’s face too.
“Can you hear us?” he asked somberly, as if speaking to a mourner at a funeral parlor.
Our Colombian not-cadaver slightly nodded, his eyes squinting at the effort of the movement.
