Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(22)

“A cold shower is the least of my concerns right now,” he snarled. He stalked into the plastic-draped area and stripped to the skin.

Bailey was right, the construction was crude but effective. After he had stripped and left his clothes in a crumpled pile where she had indicated—saving the jewelry, which he kept in one hand—he stepped into the makeshift disinfectant chamber. He scrubbed his whole body for at least ten minutes with the sharp-smelling detergent then doused himself with the propyl alcohol, making sure to scrub and douse the jewelry as well.

Both the alcohol and detergent should have stung in the bite, but they didn’t. The skin around the bite had turned numb, and he still wasn’t healing. As he prodded the wound and inspected it, dark streaks had begun to shoot out from the puncture wounds. His Power might be slowing down the progress of the poison from the bite, but it wasn’t stopping it.

Once he had finished showering, they had collected other medical supplies, and he securely taped a bandage over the bite mark. He even wiped off his phone thoroughly with disinfectant.

He dressed quickly in the jeans and shirt they had found for him. The gods only knew where they had found an outfit big enough for him, because typically the Light Fae were nowhere near his massive size. The clothes were snug, but they would do. Stuffing the cleaned necklace, earrings and bracelet into the pocket of his new jeans, he stepped out of the plastic area.

Pia stood nearby with the other Wyr waiting in a close, tense huddle, while the Light Fae had retreated to give them some semblance of privacy.

After sweeping the scene, Dragos kept his eyes on Pia. She was biting her nails and tapping one foot nervously. He strode over only to stop several feet away, clenching his fists in frustration. The urge to take her into his arms was almost overwhelming. He hated he couldn’t act on it.

Her gaze went immediately to the white bandage on his arm. “How is it?”

“Still there,” he replied. He looked at the others. “Give us some space, will you?”

Reluctantly they stepped away, Aryal scowling over her shoulder at them.

Pia burst out, “This is so wrong. I can’t even touch you.”

“I know,” he said, very low.

They stared at each other. The morning had evaporated into a hot afternoon. Indirect sunlight gilded the ends of her hair, and sent shafts of illumination into her dark gaze. She said between her teeth, “Everybody on the property has supersharp hearing, and I want to telepathize with you so badly.”

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s text it.”

She snatched hers out of the pocket of her maxi dress, and her slender fingers flew over the tiny keyboard. When she was finished, she did one final, emphatic stab.

His phone pinged, and he looked down at the screen.

She had written: I don’t have time for a meltdown. Let’s pretend I just spat out a lot of AGH and UGH and OMG HOLY FUCK!!! and get it out of the way, shall we?

A hint of laughter ghosted through him. He texted back, I’m almost sorry I missed that.

She gave him a brief glare and turned her attention back to her phone. We need to get enough privacy so that I can try to heal you.

Agreed, he replied. But you might not be able to. You’re taking a drug protocol that suppresses your own abilities.

For a moment she stood frozen, staring at him with wide eyes, her phone dangling from her lax hand. Then she set to typing again furiously. The dose is wearing off. I’m supposed to take the next round this evening.

“I just want you to be braced,” he told her aloud, quietly. He texted the rest. You’re supposed to take the dose before the effects of the protocol have fully worn off. If you wait and take it late, you could endanger both yourself and the baby.

That was assuming he could stave off the effects from the bite long enough, but he didn’t text that thought. A look of sheer terror flashed across her face, and he had to clench down again on the need to take her into his arms.

Then her jaw firmed, and she said, “Let’s not get trapped into thinking it’s an either/or scenario. None of this may be necessary. Wait here.”

“Pia—” he began.

The glare she threw at him had sufficient strength to stop him in his tracks. “I know what you’re going to say, but don’t even bother, because we don’t have time for that either. Let’s pretend we had an entire argument about it—you just said we can’t, and I just said we have to. You said what about the secret, and I’m telling you right now I don’t give a f*ck about the f*cking secret!”

“Calm down and think about what you’re saying,” he rasped.

“Well, I can’t calm down, and I am thinking about it. Think about how many people already know, Dragos. The sentinels. Eva and Hugh. Liam, Dr. Medina and Dr. Shaw, and you know Stinkpot’s going to know as soon as he—or she—gets big enough. And probably there are other people I’m forgetting right now. No, wait! That’s right!” She threw out both hands. “Beluvial and some of the Elves know. The list keeps getting larger and larger, and chances are, we won’t be able to keep a lid on this forever.”

“We’ve got a lid on it for now,” he snapped.

“Yes, but it’s a train crash in slow motion. It might take months or it might take years, but sooner or later, that lid is gonna blow. In fact, the way I feel right now, I could just shout the f*cking secret to the whole f*cking world. So just wait there a f*cking minute.”