The nurse, who I assumed came with the service, parked us in a room and left.
Fifteen minutes later, a slender woman with lavender hair and periwinkle eyes entered with a tablet.
“I’m Doctor Lillian Vandross.” She handed me a tablet with a blank patient form. “You must be Meg’s friends.”
“She’s my godmother,” I confirmed, ticking boxes. “This is my mate, Asa Montenegro.”
“Can you tell me what happened, Asa?” She urged him onto the table. “Where are you hurt?”
“I was in a restaurant when it exploded,” he told her. “It hurts everywhere.”
That last bit was enough to make me fumble the tablet.
“Okay.” She gave him a once-over. “Can you remove your shirt, please?”
The wall smashed into the side of my head. That was how it felt. Like I had been sitting there, minding my own business, and the room attacked me. I couldn’t see more than white paint and ceiling tiles.
“They’re in fascination,” Marita explained from behind me. “She has trouble with people touching him.”
As the overwhelming rage subsided, I understood she held me in a headlock, that she was restraining me from attacking the doctor for asking to see Asa shirtless. To treat his wounds. From an explosion.
Goddess bless, I was a mess.
“I’ve been married for fifty-two years,” Dr. Vandross said dryly. “Your mate is pretty, but mine’s prettier.”
A rumble climbing up my throat threatened to challenge her on that point until Marita smacked my nose with a rolled-up pamphlet on diabetes. “Bad Rue.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I complained. “What happened to besties for the resties?”
“You hired me to protect Asa.” Her shoulders twitched. “His health and wellbeing are my priorities.”
A little of the fight drained out of me, which was odd under the circumstances.
Marita had bellyflopped all over Asa to escape the rubble, but I hadn’t cared one bit. I hadn’t been in my right mind, but still. I had attacked Moran for less. Why was Marita different? The only theory I could pin down was…I trusted her. Absolutely. And every time she chose Asa over me, I respected her more.
Gentling her hold, Marita asked, “Can you behave if I let you go?”
“I make no promises,” I answered honestly, “but I’ll try my best.”
When she released me, except for one forearm, I turned to find Asa shirtless and his stomach oozing.
“A projectile entered your abdomen here.” Dr. Vandross wiped the area clean. “You removed it?”
“I did.” He let her push him back. “It was a fork.”
“Next time,” she grumbled, “leave it in until a medical professional can help.”
Asa hissed through his teeth when she palpated across his lower stomach.
“You’re tender here too?” She frowned. “Did you sustain any other injuries?”
“He was stabbed with cold iron,” Marita volunteered while I was debating whether to answer. “A lot.”
“You’re dae?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “There must be shrapnel in the wounds.”
“A top daemon surgeon operated on him to repair the internal damage within hours of him sustaining his injuries.” I kept my growls mostly to myself. “I’ve purged his system with magic daily since then.”
“How long ago?”
“Four days.”
“He should have healed then.” She hummed to herself. “Where was the surgery performed?”
Content to let me talk for him, Asa wore a faint smile tinged with simple happiness.
Either he enjoyed my rabid protection of him, or he was pleased that I could rattle off the answers without skipping a beat.
With fascination behind the wheels in our brains, I couldn’t guess which was pumping the gas.
“In a private clinic.” I wasn’t about to give details on the farm, so I hedged. “A rustic one.”
“Did he have x-rays done?” She removed her gloves. “That should have picked up on any stragglers.”
“The clinic had a portable x-ray machine, yes.”
“Hmm.” She drifted to the door and peered into the hall. “Shannon, can you prep our patient for an MRI?”
“This place has an MRI machine?” I boggled at a small clinic affording one. “You think that will help?”
“This clinic is owned by a co-op, of which I am a part. It has everything. That way we can treat high-risk paras without involving a hospital or imaging center.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “You definitely fit the bill, so I booked the clinic for a few hours.”
A soft laugh from the table left me convinced my bad behavior was what tickled him earlier.
“Asa also counts.” Marita attempted to make me feel better. “He’s a high-value political target, and this place is warded within an inch of its life to provide a safe environment for his treatment and recovery.”
While those things were true and I appreciated the precautions, I wasn’t proud to make the list for a very different reason. I was a risk to anyone who harmed Asa, but that would always be true. I didn’t have to be a jealous rageaholic, though, but fascination disagreed with me.
“How long will the MRI take?”
“Forty-five minutes, more or less.” She collected the tablet. “You’ll have to stay in the waiting area.”
“That works.” I could tell I had surprised them both. “I need to make a few calls.”
The farther I got from them, the less touching I saw.
The less touching I saw, the more likely I was to behave myself.
“You know my number if you need me,” Marita told me. “I’ll stick to him like glue.”
“You can stick to the door to the MRI room,” Dr. Vandross corrected her. “The outside of it.”
Marita just smiled, and I didn’t envy the battle the doctor had ahead of her.
On the threshold, I recalled the comment on the wards. “Can I get something from my SUV?”
“Ask Shannon for a visitor’s pass.” Dr. Vandross was busy staring down Marita. “It will let you reenter the clinic.”
To spare myself more embarrassment, I ordered my feet to get me out of the room. They weren’t happy about it, but they did as they were told. Eventually. The nice nurse met me in the hall, and I signed out a badge that prickled with magic.
Outside I had trouble stepping off the curb, but the doctor couldn’t do her thing with me foaming at the mouth over her shoulder, and Marita had proven she would protect Asa against all comers.
Once I got close enough to the SUV to see Clay’s limp form, I had less trouble leaving Asa behind.
But that didn’t stop me from setting a forty-five-minute timer on my phone.
To ensure I was alone, I cast a sweeping spell across the parking lot that turned up no magic or threats.
With that done, I twisted an illusion spell to conceal me, but not the SUV, then opened the trunk.
“Clay,” Colby cried from my hair. “You can fix him, right?”
“I’ve done this many times before,” I comforted her. “You want to help?”