Savage Awakening (Alpha Pack #2)(40)

Melina fell silent for a moment, studying him, suddenly looking older than her years. "I honestly hope you reconsider before it's too late." He didn't answer. "Okay, I'm going to get that culture, and when it comes back clear, I'll release you."

"Thanks."

She left to get the kit she needed, and he sat there staring out the window once again. Only he wasn't nearly as excited as before about the prospect of getting out. He was simply trading one prison for another, this time being held hostage by his own body. With a sigh, he slumped in his chair and covered his face with one hand.

I'm going to die. After the hell in Afghanistan. After all those weeks of torture, praying for rescue, and death finds me, anyway-in the form of my mate. Ain't fate a bitch?

Melina returned. "Let's get this done so you can get going."

In less than a minute, she'd swabbed inside his throat with the end of a long stick and taken it away. In fifteen more she was back, announcing that as expected, he had no viruses or bacteria to account for the sore throat and fever. His blood work was fine, too. He was healed from his time in captivity.

"One last thing," she said, leveling him with a firm look. "When you find yourself unable to perform on the team, remove yourself from duty or I will have to go to Nick."

"How long do I have before I get to that point?"

"I wish I had a firm answer," she said grimly. "The pace of decline seems to vary. But it will happen, unless you talk to Rowan. Explain to her."

"I can't." God. Losing his team and his place among them would truly be the end of him. When that happened, he would shift and disappear into the Shoshone, let nature take its course.

Melina signed his paperwork, no doubt believing that when push came to shove, he'd change his mind and bite Rowan, risk turning her into a wolf, to save his own hide. The doc was wrong. He wasn't that big an ass**le, no matter what people might think.

After she left, Aric pulled his clothes out of the small closet across from the bed and dressed in sweats and an Alice in Chains T-shirt, trying to ignore the slight soreness in his muscles. How long would he be able to hide his condition from his friends? Not long enough, knowing those guys. They were too damned perceptive.

On his way out, he stopped to see Micah despite his hurry to put the infirmary behind him. Easing into the room, he was struck by the awful stillness from the man on the bed. The drugs were doing their job to keep his friend quiet. He'd almost rather see the guy go for his throat again than this. But either way he was suffering.

Aric went to stand by the bed and rested his hand on the side rail, not sure what to do or say. Nothing seemed adequate, so he settled for what he was best at-the blunt truth.

"Hey, man," he told his sleeping friend. "This is a load of bullshit, huh? But I happen to know you're too tough to let this keep you down. Don't let those ass**les win, you feel me? Get well for your sister and your team. Everyone is pulling for you. And when you get out of here, we'll go kick some ass."

That was about as good a pep talk as he could manage. Especially with his sudden emotions threatening to strangle him. Damn it, he might not even be around by the time Micah recovered. But his friend didn't need to know.

"I'll be back, buddy," he promised.

He started out, waving to Noah and the bigger nurse, and kept going, trying to decide what to do. He probably should inform Nick he'd been sprung, but he didn't want to see the boss just yet. The man was too weird with that PreCog shit, and if he didn't already know what was up with Aric, being alone with him might prompt a vision. Or something. No need for him to find out sooner than necessary.

He wasn't hungry, either, and didn't feel like watching TV. The last thing he wanted was to be alone in his room. That left the gym. Might be a good idea to get some exercise while he still could. Blow off some frustration.

Liking this idea, he jogged straight there, glad when he arrived that he wasn't the least bit winded. So what if he was a little sweaty and warm? That wasn't too remarkable when he'd been running. Slowing, he walked inside and took a look to see who was hanging around.

Jax and Zan were sparring on the mats, going at it like two warring gladiators instead of best friends. They appeared to be enjoying themselves. Hammer was doing bench presses, working on the stomach that already boasted an eight-pack, being spotted by Ryon. But it was the sweet thing doing sit-ups in one corner that got his undivided attention.

Rowan wore black spandex workout pants and a matching sports bra, both of which showed off her sleek, toned body and generous br**sts. She was no small, scrawny woman like Kira. No, sir, she was built like a brick shithouse, every muscular, kick-ass inch. He practically drooled watching her abs scrunch and her hips flex every time she sat up.

Damn, she's just about perfect. How could I have ever thought I was attracted to Jax's mate?

He'd been observing for at least a couple of minutes before she noticed and eased up one last time, then reached for a hand towel at her side. She wiped her face and then tossed it down, elbows on her knees.

"Are you spying on me?" Good-natured humor laced her tone.

"Nope, flat-out ogling. Spying implies I have something to hide." He almost winced at his choice of words.

"Everybody has something to hide, Savage." She arched a brow.

Yeah, including himself. Just not the way she might think. "I guess you're right about that."