Kael
By the time we reached the infirmary, Drake was leaning against me with entirely too much satisfaction for someone who had almost died.
Not because he needed the support.
Because he enjoyed it.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Baby,” he sighed happily as I helped him onto the bed. “You know I can walk.”
“I know.”
“You keep touching me.”
“I know.”
“You hover.”
“I know.”
“And I like it.”
I ignored him.
Mostly because if I acknowledged it, he would become even more unbearable.
Dr. Bennett arrived a few minutes later.
Early thirties.
Too cheerful.
I disliked him immediately.
The examination itself was straightforward. He checked the wound, listened to Drake’s heart and lungs, and generally poked him in ways that seemed medically necessary.
“The wound itself looks good,” th
