inside her back pocket and waited for Terror to return.
When Terror came back, he had a crate filled with the medical supplies and food from the box. He locked the door behind him and placed the crate on the small dining table. He sorted through the supplies and held up a package of ready-to-eat food. She shook her head and made a gesture asking for water. He brought her a bottle from the crate along with an armload of medication and a fresh IV bag.
She greedily drank the water while he arranged the medication vials and prepared the IV. After he drew up the medication according to the instructions the doctor had written on the labels, he ripped open a swab and cleaned the port on her IV before injecting the medication. She hissed as the medicine burned her vein, and he made an apologetic face. She sat back grumpily as he administered two more medications via the IV.
When he loaded up a fourth syringe, this one clearly for an intramuscular injection, she shook her head and signaled “no” with her hand. “Yes,” he replied firmly. “You’re at risk of a raging infection.”
“No.” She pushed the syringe away and crossed her arms. “No more needles.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”
She rolled her eyes and made a gesture for paper and a pen or a tablet. He brought her the tablet from the crate and waited for her to power it up and type out her reply. “No more needles.”
A flash of irritation crossed his face. He crouched down in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. “Maisie, I know you don’t want to deal with any more pain, but I didn’t go this far to save you to watch you die from an infection. So—you have two choices. You can roll up your sleeve and let me give you this injection.”
“Or?” she mouthed petulantly.
“Or I throw you over my lap, yank down your pants, spank you like a naughty child and then jab that needle in your ass.”
Her mouth dropped at his rude threat. She angrily tapped out her response. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
She decided that would be a surefire way to end up with a sore bottom. Instead, she grudgingly set aside her bottle of water and held out her arm. Terror cleaned her skin with a new swab and then injected the antibiotic without warning. She glared at him, but he studiously avoided her gaze.
With the antibiotic given, he switched out her IV bag and hung it from the shelf over the couch. After disposing of the trash, he removed his tactical belt and weapons and bent down to unlace his boots. He yanked them off and then dropped onto the cushion next to her. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long and heavy breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. He looked so tired. Considering all he had done to save her, he had to be exhausted.
The urge to touch him overwhelmed her. Bravely, she took his hand and lifted his arm to make space for her to slide in closer to him. He stiffened at her brazen move, and she held his gaze, questioning whether she had overstepped. His surprised expression softened, and he tugged her closer, guiding her right into his embrace. She smiled as she snuggled into him, pressing her cheek to his chest and relishing his heat and strong arms.
For the first time in weeks, she felt truly safe and secure. She didn’t know what the future held, probably more danger and drama, but as long as Terror was with her, she could face anything.
Chapter Thirteen
Keen winced at the blaring klaxon assaulting his eardrums. He hated these damn drills that Orion insisted on running. As he scanned the monitors in the locked Shadow Force surveillance room, he watched the orderly movement of soldiers, airmen, mates and even a few children to their escape pods. His gaze lingered on an airman carrying a toddler and guiding his mate through the throng of bodies. The airman had his lower hand on his mate’s back in a protective gesture, and he nuzzled his toddler—a girl—in a reassuring, fatherly way.
Keen ignored the pang of envy at the sight of the happy family. It had been a long time since his mate and child had been killed, and the pain had faded some. It never really went away, but he had learned to manage it. He had grieved—and now he was ready