looking Tobias’s way. “It’s a secret.”
“He’s secretive.” Enzo’s beady eyes darted between the two.
Laughter echoed through the sanctuary. Beau and Caesar leaned against the far wall snickering childishly and rambling nonsense—to Leila, who stood in stoic silence, stitching Neil’s face. Even Neil, with a needle jutting from his cheek, was talking, saying something Tobias couldn’t discern from where he sat, but he could clearly see Leila’s face drop into a condemning frown.
Flynn kicked his leg, and Tobias cringed through the shooting pain. “For the love of God, you clumsy bastard.”
“Apologies.” Flynn glanced over the still-fresh wound. “How does it feel?”
“Like it’s been stabbed.”
Orion chuckled. “Poor Artist. You’ve taken a beating these last few days.”
“First the broken nose, now a bum leg…” Zander sighed. “I can’t imagine what’s next.”
“A busted cock,” Orion said.
“Oh God, don’t even make fun.” Flynn shook his head. “I’d end my own life. Give me my cock, or give me death.”
The Lords laughed again, though Leila kept quiet, knotting Neil’s stitches. Their group had expanded; Kaleo now mingled amongst the Lords with Antaeus and Drake hovering quietly like shadows, and a weight dropped in Tobias’s stomach.
Orion gestured toward them. “Looks as though the Lords and the Beasts are getting along.”
Flynn swatted his arm. “Not all the Lords.”
“And not all the Beasts.” Zander nodded at Enzo.
Tobias ignored them. Beau and Caesar laughed with Kaleo—over what, he couldn’t possibly imagine—while Neil stared Leila up and down, saying something that sent her eyes narrowing. His hands traveled from his lap, gliding around the back of her cloak, where they stopped and squeezed.
A CLAP echoed off the walls as Leila slapped Neil across his fresh stitches, and the entire sanctuary burst into laughter—except for Tobias.
“Oh, she walloped him good.” Flynn chuckled.
“No one’s going to do anything?” Tobias turned to the others. “We’re just going to sit here and watch?”
“You’d rather us risk being mauled by that pack of jackals?” Flynn said.
Tobias grumbled, glancing over his bloodied leg before drifting back to the scene. Caesar, Beau, and Kaleo slugged Neil in the shoulder, while Leila scuttled away, fiddling with her satchel in an obviously intentional manner. A hint of relief crept through him—until Antaeus followed after her.
“Artist.” Flynn nudged him. “It’s your turn.”
Tobias said nothing. Antaeus lingered behind Leila, eyeing her possessively, and the weight in Tobias’s stomach morphed into a sickness.
“Tobias?”
But he was transfixed on Leila, who had spun around to chastise Antaeus, only for him to peek beneath her cloak. She stomped on his foot and shoved his stomach, and he grabbed her wrist, tugging her toward him.
Tobias sprang from the floor. A stab tore through his thigh, but he hobbled on, practically hopping on one leg before throwing himself between Antaeus and Leila. “All right, that’s enough—”
His leg gave out, and he fell flat on his ass. Cursing to himself, he scanned the wall of flesh in front of him—Antaeus, his large hands curled into fists, his eyes shrinking into a challenging glare.
Shit. I didn’t think this through.
Slender arms suddenly wrapped around him. “Hold on, I’ve got you.”
Leila grunted, hoisting Tobias to his feet, and the two staggered away from the glowering Giant. She blew a loose strand of hair from her face. “I was handling myself just fine back there.”
“That fuckery isn’t something you should have to handle.”
Tobias nearly toppled over, but Leila held on tight, barely keeping him on his feet. Their short trek was muddled with totters and tumbles, and upon reaching the spread of cards, they collapsed in a pile.
“The Artist!” Flynn threw his hands overhead. “A hero once again.”
Leila scowled. “He’s the hero?”
“Don’t be embarrassed, everyone needs a hero from time to time.”
“Speak for yourself, Flynn,” she scoffed.
The group prodded at Flynn, while Leila situated herself at Tobias’s side. “Let me look at your leg.”
“Unnecessary. You owe me nothing.”
Her scowl deepened. “I’m not doing this because I owe you. I’m doing it because it’s my job.”
Tobias’s cheeks flushed, and Leila untied his makeshift tourniquet and rolled up his pant leg, dragging her fingers over his bandages. “May I?”
He nodded, gritting his teeth as she peeled away the strips of fabric. God, the gash was ghastly, wet and gaping like a soggy mouth sputtering blood.
Leila’s eyes widened. “Good God. Tobias, this is quite deep.”
“I know. I felt it.”
“How have you managed walking?”
“Poorly, as you might’ve noticed.”
“I mean it,” she said. “This is serious. Completely inopportune. You’re going to need your legs tomorrow.”
“Don’t I need my legs every day?”
“You make jokes? Do you think I’m being