Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(20)

“Your body heat was h-helping,” she gritted.

He paused, then with infinite care he picked her up again, sat on the sofa and settled her on his lap with the blanket tucked around her. She lay against him, head on his shoulder, a limp weight except for the shivering that clawed through her slender body. He placed the Glock on the sofa arm as Hughes approached from the kitchen with a chilled bottle of water.

“Here,” said the manager, offering it to Tiago. “It’s still sealed.”

Tiago nodded in approval, propped the bottle against his leg and twisted the cap off while he cuddled Niniane in his other arm. He took a sip of the water, rolled it over his tongue, and decided it was safe enough to drink. He offered the bottle to Niniane.

She stared up at him. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she said. What her thready voice lacked in strength, she made up for in anger. “Don’t risk yourself by tasting for poison. It’s hard enough to live with you putting yourself on the line doing bodyguard detail for me.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her and tilted the bottle so that she was forced to drink or let the water dribble down her chin. She gargled and swallowed. He said, “That’s not your call to make, your snippiness.”

“Tiago,” she said. She sounded like her patience was severely tried. “Who is going to be Queen? Me, not you. You are not in charge here. You can’t be. Get over it or go home.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” he told her, tilting the water bottle at her again. She was forced to drink more while storm clouds gathered in those amazing eyes. “You asked for my help, and you got it. Deal with it and shut up.”

She pushed her chin up and turned her mouth away from the bottle, and he let her. She huffed, “Your bedside manner is sociopathic.”

“Trying to care about that,” he said. He cocked his head and widened his eyes. “Huh. I guess I’m not managing it.”

Sarcastic son of a bitch. “Thanks for everything you’ve done tonight. I really appreciate it. I’ve changed my mind about you staying. You’re fired.”

“I came to Chicago whether you wanted me to or not, so I’m not caring about that so much either,” he told her. He held the bottle up, and she flinched, slapping a protective hand over her mouth. “Come on, your recalcitrance, finish the bottle. On top of your wound being infected, you drank far too much vodka. You need the hydration.”

“Which I don’t get,” she muttered. Since she was thirsty anyway, she reached for the water bottle, and he let her take it. “As much alcohol as I ingested, my whole body should be a sterile environment.”

“Life isn’t logical.”

Between his body warmth and the blanket her chills had eased, and she was looking sulky and mutinous. The bottom lip of that luscious little X-rated mouth was sticking out. The clench in his gut started to ease until he felt almost cheerful.

He could see Hughes’s expression out of the corner of his eye. The manager’s usual dignified expression had given way to openmouthed fascination. Tiago scowled at him. Then he heard a sound. He had eased Niniane onto the sofa, grabbed the Glock and was striding down the hall before either Niniane or Hughes could react.

Someone knocked at the door as he approached.

“What,” he said without opening it.

“The hotel physician is here.”

He stood to the side and leaned over to peer through the peephole. The hotel security/undercover cops were standing back from the door, in sight of the peephole. Between them stood a slight, intelligent-looking male who carried a bag. Even through the door Tiago could pick up a whisper of magic about the man. The doctor was a witch.

Hughes had come to the door as well. Tiago pointed to the door. “Verify this guy,” he said.

The manager took a look through the peephole. “That’s Dr. Weylan, the one I called. The hotel has had him on retainer for several years now.”

Tiago opened the door, gestured the doctor in and shut and locked the door behind him. Then he pinned the doctor to the wall with one hand around his throat and introduced him to the Glock.

“Here are the rules,” he said. “No second chances. I’ve been on battlefields for far longer than you’ve been alive. I have performed triage and I am very familiar with medical procedures, including magical ones. You do not want me to misunderstand anything you do. You do a single thing that seems off to me in the slightest way, and you’re dead. And I won’t lose a single moment’s sleep over that decision. Got it?”

Paling, the doctor nodded. Hughes stared at Tiago, and from the living room Niniane exclaimed, “Tiago!”

He raised his voice as he snapped, “Let’s revisit, your argumentativeness. There’ve been two assassination attempts in less than thirty-six hours. You won’t let me take you back to New York, so it’s shotgun justice until we have a safe base of operations established.” He said more quietly to the doctor, “You got that?”

“Actually, I do,” said the smaller man. Tiago eased his hold on the human male’s throat. Steady, sharp eyes met his. The doctor gave him a tight smile. “You’ve made your point. Let me do what I came to do and treat my patient now.”

Tiago took a deep breath and stepped back. He had lived a long life by trusting his gut. His gut told him that Hughes was for real, and that through the years the human doctor would have proven himself to the five-star hotel and its customers many times over.