Where Winter Finds You (Black Dagger Brotherhood #18)- J.R Ward Page 0,106

just working on her.”

Trez tried to stand up off the mobile surgical unit’s floor, thinking he could help—in spite of the fact that he had no medical training and was totally compromised physically. Fortunately, Tohr gently yet firmly kept him where he was.

“You don’t want to get in the way.” The Brother shook his head. “You want to stay right here. And as soon as we come to a stop, I need to get you out fast. Okay? It’s going to move really quick the second we pull up. Do we understand each other?”

Trez started to hyperventilate. But he nodded.

And it happened exactly as the Brother said. The descent ended, the mobile unit stopped, and the doors were opened. Eager to be more than an inanimate object, Trez tried to shuffle out the back, but Tohr was the one who actually moved him, the Brother scooping him up and rushing him forward as Zsadist and Qhuinn ran a gurney to the RV.

With Tohr gunning for the training center’s entrance, Trez wanted to see whether Therese was okay—he knew the answer to that question, though, didn’t he—whether they were getting her out of the—

His brain was making no sense, his thoughts like pennies spilled on a hardwood floor, spinning all willy-nilly before falling down in random disorder. And then the next thing he knew, he was in an exam room, on a table. Determined to get with the program, he lifted his hand up to reasonably remove the mask so he could communicate better.

He didn’t recognize his forearm or what was attached to it. Everything was blackened with smoke, and he had some burns on him, although when that had happened, he had no clue. Looking up, as if Tohr, who had not been with him, could explain anything, he found the Brother taking off his leather jacket with hands that shook.

Tohr was normal. As in not sooted up the fuck, but he was pale and it wasn’t just his extremities that were shaking. His whole body was on vibrate, a phone on silent waiting to be answered.

As Trez nixed his mask, he realized he was connected to the Brother by thin tubing, him with the breathing apparatus, Tohr with the tank.

“This should be with Therese,” Trez said in a raspy voice.

“No, they have her on a big tank now.”

“That’s my shellan, and I need to get intohelpherfeedingfeedingneedstohappen—”

“Shh.” Tohr put his palms out. “It’s going to be all right. Put the mask back on until someone can check you out.”

Even though Trez was like a soda bottle with the cap cracked, all kinds of words rushing to get out around the too-small seal of his mouth, he recognized that if he wanted to be taken seriously, he needed to pull it together.

“She needs to feed,” he said in a more even tone. “And I don’t want anyone else doing it.”

“They’re working on her.”

“Then she’s not dead yet and she needs me.” Trez grabbed the Brother’s arm. “If that was your shellan, who you could help with your vein, would you want to be stuck in here?”

The Brother blanched. “You’re not well.”

“Maybe. But can you argue for even a second that she’s not so much worse off?”

There was some cursing on the Brother’s side, low and nasty. “Stay here.”

Tohr put the oxygen tank on the floor next to the exam table and Trez resumed breathing through the mask, not because he was worried about himself, but because he was anticipating the need to give Selena the very best blood he could.

When the Brother didn’t immediately come back, Trez got anxious. And then terrified. He imagined the medical staff doing chest compressions and shouting demands for more meds across Therese’s lifeless body—

Before he was aware of deciding to move, his body slid off the table and stood on its own—and as something didn’t feel right, he looked down. He’d lost one of his loafers. Who knew when or where.

Limping over to the door, he opened it and looked out.

Down on the left, Tohr was arguing with someone. Vishous. And their voices were low and intense.

“He’s half dead,” V hissed.

“What’s it going to hurt? He probably thinks it’s Selena. Everyone says they look alike—”

They both stopped talking and stared at Trez.

“Come on,” Tohr said, “I’ll take you in.”

V threw up an f-bomb and went for his Turkish tobacco, the rest of his curses staying mostly under his breath.

But Tohr held out his hand, and Trez went to the Brother. Linking his palm with the