“Saint is sweeter.” I kissed Cam’s cheek, then gestured for him to lead me to the source of his latest worry.
He preceded me into Embry’s room. The good chaplain was sitting on the far side of the bed, hunched over, eyes closed. I did not know this man, but his discomfort was obvious.
My hands on his shoulders startled him. I did not feel bad, even as his eyes flew open and the sight of me at his side took him back to a moment that belonged to just us. “You remember?”
Embry took a shallow breath, every inch of him taut with pain. “A bit.”
“What did I tell you?”
“That you had cold hands and I wasn’t going to die.”
“It is all still true. Today, at least.” The back of my hand was warmer than my palm. I pressed it to Embry’s head and then the nape of his neck. No fever. “Sit back.”
Embry shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“You lie. And Cam is not fine watching you suffer.”
Embry closed his eyes again. I gave him a moment, exchanging a glance with Cam who had stopped in the doorway. Someone came up behind him. I could not tell who it was, except that it wasn’t Saint or Mateo.
They went away.
Cam ventured further into the room and shut the door behind him as I regarded his stubborn chaplain.
If you are to help him, you need to touch him again.
I sighed and flicked a glare at Cam.The things I do for you.
“Embry.” I waited him out. Eventually, he looked at me again. “I need to check you do not have an infection. If your stitches are sound, I can give you a relaxant for the intestinal spasm and a painkiller that won’t make things worse. You will sleep then and be battle-ready when you wake, no?”
“Battle-ready?”
“Is what you want? To fight?”
He did not answer with words. Embry stared at me a long moment, then lay back on his bed.
I moved fast before he changed his mind, lifting his shirt to see the mess Cam’s would-be murderer had made of his abdomen. The stab wound. The surgical scar that had saved his life. Neither was big, but their effects ran deep. I saw it in the chaplain’s eyes.This is not over.
“No infection.” I reached for the drugs I’d brought into his room. “You will not keep pills down. Two injections. Would you like Cam to do it? I will show him how.”
Behind me, Cam cursed.
Embry snorted. “He’d faint.”
“Dickhead.”
“Lie to him. Tell him I’m wrong.”
Silence. I did not look at Cam, but the smirk that split my face felt good. “Squeamish, Cam?”
“Only with the people I love.”
Embry’s humour faded. I held up the injections I’d prepared for him while he’d made fun of Cam.
He nodded. “Do it.”
“We will stay with you until you are comfortable.”
“You don’t have to do that.”