J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [546]
When her eyes didn’t meet his, he knew she also was uncomfortable with their situation. “Vishous told me you were hurt.”
Ah, so V had guilted her into this Florence Nightingale routine. That bastard knew Butch was a simpering idiot for her and that the sound of her voice would do exactly what it did and bring him around. But it was a helluva position for her to be in, a reluctant rope to the proverbial lifeboat.
Butch grunted as he rearranged himself. And also from the knock his pride was taking.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“Better.” Comparatively. Then again, he could have been dragged under a bus and still been miles ahead of what the lesser had done to him. “So you don’t have to stay.”
Her hand drifted off the sheet and she took a slow breath, her breasts rising under the expensive bodice of her gown. As she wrapped her arms around herself, her body became an elegant s-curve.
He looked away, ashamed because part of him wanted to take advantage of her pity and keep her with him. “Marissa, you can go now, you know.”
“Actually, I can’t.”
He frowned and glanced back at her. “Why not.”
She paled, but then lifted her chin. “You’re under—”
There was a hiss and an alien walked into the room, the figure dressed in a yellow suit and a breathing mask. The face behind the molded plastic was female, but the features indistinct.
Butch looked back at Marissa with horror. “Why the fuck aren’t you wearing one of those getups?” He had no idea what kind of infection he had, but if it was bad enough that the medical staff was pulling a Silkwood, he had to imagine he was deadly.
Marissa cringed, making him feel like a total thug. “I…I’m just not.”
“Sire?” the nurse interrupted gently. “I’d like to take a blood sample if you don’t mind?”
He kicked out a forearm while still glaring at Marissa. “You were supposed to be wearing one of those when you came in, weren’t you? Weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Goddamn it,” he snapped. “Why didn’t you—”
As the nurse nailed him a good one in the crook of his elbow, Butch’s strength ran out of him like she’d popped the balloon of his energy with that needle of hers.
Dizziness slammed into him and his head fell back against the pillow. But he was still pissed off. “You should have one of those on.”
Marissa didn’t respond, just paced around.
In the silence, he glanced over at the little vial that was plugged into his vein. As the nurse swapped it for an empty one, he couldn’t help noticing that his blood seemed darker than usual. Much darker.
“Good God…what the hell’s coming out of me?”
“It’s better than it was. Much so.” The nurse smiled through the mask.
“Then what color was it before,” he muttered, thinking the shit looked like brown sludge.
When the nurse was done, she shoved a thermometer under his tongue and checked the machines behind the bed. “I’ll bring you some food.”
“Has she eaten,” he mumbled.
“Keep your mouth closed.” There was a beeping noise and the nurse took the plastic-covered stick from his lips. “Much better. Now, is there anything you’d like?”
He thought of Marissa risking her life because of guilt. “Yeah, I want her to get out of here.”
Marissa heard the words and stopped walking around. Easing back against the wall, she glanced down at herself and was surprised to find that her gown still fit her the same. She felt half her usual size. Small. Insubstantial.
As the nurse left, Butch’s hazel eyes burned. “How long do you have to stay?”
“Until Havers tells me I can go.”
“Are you sick?”
She shook her head.
“What are they treating me for?”
“Your injuries from the car accident. Which were extensive.”
“Car accident?” He looked confused, then nodded at the IV as if he wanted to change the subject. “What’s in there?”
She linked her arms over her chest and recited the antibiotics, the nutrients, the pain meds, and the anticoagulants he was on. “And Vishous comes in to help as well.”
She thought of the Brother and his disarming diamond eyes and the tattoos at his temple…and his obvious dislike of her. He was