“Does it?” A frantic look appeared in her gaze, and she tugged on the end of her ponytail. He didn’t like that he was causing her distress, but a part of him loved that she was so worried abouthim. “Well, I’m glad to hear that because there are a lot of pieces still missing for me.”
If he were having this conversation with anyone else, he’dstop it here. He couldn’t discuss his work with many people, and he’d probably already said too much.
But this wasn’t just anyone. This wasRiver, with her fresh rain scent, big brown eyes, and adorable frown. She was panicked and angry because of him.
Worried for him.
Soon, Nikhail would be alone again. They’d both have to return to work, and the barriers that had always divided them would remain in place. He’d have to go back to seeing her as nothing more than Ryker’s sister.
But he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.
Knowing it would egg her on, he raised a brow and asked, “Is that so?”
“Yes, it is!” River snapped. Stepping towards the bed, she started counting on her fingers. “Who shot you, Nik? Why did they shoot you? And thirdly, why the fuck are there scars all over your chest?”
He was so taken aback by the curse coming from River’s mouth—he’d never heard her swear—that he didn’t say anything.
“Scars, Nik!” Alarm wove through her words, and she was practically screaming. “Fae don’t scar easily!”
“I know,” he said softly, his gaze darting to the door and confirming it was closed before he looked back at her.
She twisted her hands together, panic and anger twin flames in her eyes. “In fact, it’s practically impossible to inflict permanent damage on a fae.”
In moments like this, when he saw flashes of her storm, he was reminded how powerful she was…
Just like her brother.
Gods, Ryker would kill him if he knew what kinds ofthoughts he was having about his sister. But Ryker wasn’t here, and River needed him.
“River, I know,” he said softly, trying to calm her down. It didn’t seem to be working. If anything, his soft voice was making things worse.
“How did this happen, Nik? How did you?—”
“River.” Throwing caution to the wayside, he reached out and grabbed her hand. He would not remain still while she worked herself into a frenzy.
His fingers circled her wrist, her arm so much smaller than his. Her pulse fluttered like butterfly wings beneath his thumb.
“Look at me, River,” he murmured.
The quiet command worked, and her gaze slid up to his. Gods above, she was so good at taking orders.
“I got the scars at work.” His thumb passed over her pulse. Once. Twice.
She blinked. “Work?”
He dipped his chin, his voice low and steady. “Mm-hmm.”
It wasn’t the full story. Like River so astutely pointed out, it wasn’t easy for a fae to scar. He spent most of his time behind a desk these days, but it hadn’t always been that way.
This wasn’t the moment for that story, though.
“When did you get them?” she asked, her gaze unwavering.
“A long time ago.” The memories of what caused the scars still haunted him from time to time, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now.
She sucked in a breath. “Do they hurt?”
It didn’t surprise him to find out that’s what she was most worried about. Even panicked, River was still a healer at heart.