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"The fuck?" I gasped, sitting up and pulling at the tubes attached to my arms and face. I had a pounding headache. And this place, wherever the hell it was, smelled...weird. Like medicine and a hint of smoke.
And Oisin.
I didn't care where the hell we were. I stumbled out of my bed and across the room, where my fae lay on a similar bed, tubes and hoses attached to him as well. He was completely still, and his usually pale complexion was bone white. He had no glamour, and I reached out to gently brush his hair behind one of his pointed ears. A window near his bed looked out over a small ornamental garden. What kind of fancy place were we in? Were there humans around who would freak out if they saw Oisin right now? And how did we even get here?
Soft footsteps drew my attention and a woman in scrubs approached. "You're awake!" She smiled at me, warm and happy. I flicked a glance at her horns. She wasn't wearing glamor.
"Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore," I muttered.
She furrowed her brows, then came at me with a stethoscope. I let her push me into a nearby chair and listen to my heart, but I kept a hand on Oisin's shoulder, where I could feel the comforting thrum of his banked magic beneath my fingertips.
"How do you feel?" the woman asked in that annoying way of medical professionals everywhere.
"Like I got shot and woke up somewhere foreign. Is Oisin okay? Why couldn't he heal?"
She laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm Clara. You are in the healing center—it's equipped for supernaturals, so don't worry about glamour." Oh Gods, she was one of those mile-a-minute talkers. "Is his name Oisin, then?" She moved over to listen to his chest too. "A fine Irish name. If a bit literal."
I frowned at her. "What do you mean?"
She pulled up the soft sheet that was tucked around Oisin, revealing three bandages that were plastered over his stomach and upper chest. I came to stand by her, the lion part of me not liking her poking and prodding at my mate.
"Oh," she said lightly as she began pulling the tape off his chest. It left his fair skin red in places, but the color quickly vanished. "It's an Irish legend. The name means deer. And he was a stag, mostly, when he was brought in."
Again, I was an idiot. The man was literally named for his animal form and I didn't have a clue what it was this whole time.
Clara slowly peeled back the bandage, letting out a small sound of approval at what she saw. Then she moved with more confidence, taking the whole thing off. "That's coming along nicely."
There was a puckered, angry red star burst pattern of scar tissue on his skin. The leftover remnants of a healing shotgun wound. I let out a slow breath. So close to his heart.
God's, I'd only just found him, and I almost lost him. My knees gave out and I sat back down with a thump.
Clara had moved on to the bandage on his stomach, so she didn't see my embarrassing display as tears coursed down my cheeks.
It suddenly sank in then. That this was nothing. A small incident. But somewhere out there Oisin's own kind were hunting him. Fae were nearly immortal, they were so long-lived. I had felt safe in not exploring my feelings for the man. Maybe a hundred years from now I'd tell him. But I had just nearly lost him to some insignificant humans...and he had someone else gunning for him.
"What did you do to her?"
Oisin's beautiful voice was rough from disuse. But he still managed to sound so imperious—as if he expected the whole world to bow to him. He shifted to sit up and Clara tutted at him. Yanking off his oxygen tubing, he reached for me. "You made her cry. I swear to the Gods, being torn apart by the wild hounds will seem a mercy when I'm finished with you."
I snorted, wiping at my eyes with the edge of my stupid hospital gown and rising to give him a hug. "She didn't do anything, jackass, she's helping."
He sighed into my hair. "But you're upset, my beautiful beast."
I laughed, more tears escaping in the process. Then I pulled back a bit to meet his eyes. "That's your fault, stupid fae." I pressed my forehead to his. "How could you let yourself be caught by some dumb humans? I love you, jerk. Don't ever do that to me again."
His arms tightened around me and his eyes widened in shock. Then he regained his composure and glanced around me at the nurse...doctor? I had no idea what the woman's job even was, really. "Now I am concerned," he said to her. "Does she have a brain injury? I don't think gryphons are allowed to emote like this."
I pulled away, ruffling his hair. "Shut up."
Clara laughed and deftly removed an IV from Oisin's arm while we were distracted, wiping the area with an alcohol pad and peering at it to make sure it healed over. "I'll just go let Mr. White know you're awake."
I straightened. We both gaped at her as she headed toward the door.
"Derek fucking White?" I asked, not sure if I should laugh or panic.
She turned back to me with a frown. "Well, yes...didn't you know? I just assumed you were the one to call him before you passed out."
I shared a look with Oisin. "Um...no," I said, managing less hostility, somehow. It wasn't her fault we'd been trapped. "Where are we exactly?"
Clara smiled again. "Oh, why, you're at Mr. White's home, of course. He said we were to treat you as one of his own."
She left and I flopped back into the chair. "Great. Just fucking great." If White had done us this massive favor, Clara probably wasn't far off. He considered us his property now. How exactly did one escape the clutches of a crime lord when you owed him your life?
Oisin sighed and poked at the scar on his stomach. "Do you suppose this will fade? What if you don't find me attractive anymore?"
I rolled my eyes at his blatant distraction technique. "Scars are sexy," I told him in a flat voice. "And we are not doing it on a hospital bed. The sweet little nurse would be traumatized if she walked in on that. What do you suppose White is?" Maybe if I knew what kind of supe he was, I'd know how to deal with him.
Oisin quirked a red brow at me. "Oh, I know what he is. I just can't tell you."
I scowled at him. "You what now?"
My beautiful, asinine fae just gave me a snooty look. "Some things you just don't discuss, Gesa." Then he dropped the act and his voice was almost a whisper. "Some things you don't say out loud."