Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress #3)(84)
Author: Gena Showalter

His eyelids closed, that smile lingering on his lips. “Get up here.”

She didn’t ask for permission from the doctors, simply crawled up beside him and rested her head on his stomach, away from his injuries. One of his arms banded around her, his IV tubes rubbing cold against her skin.

“Schön?” he asked tiredly.

“Dead. Except for Nolan. He’s in isolation. Eden came in an hour ago and told me they have the book that was in his apartment, as well as his ring. It was a decoder. The book chronicles everything he told us about that queen. There are pictures, drawings, so we’ll know her when she arrives, at least.”

“Still coming?”

Mishka nodded. “Nolan can, apparently, sense her. He says she’s getting closer.”

Jaxon fell asleep a moment later, his head lolling to the side, his chest rising and falling evenly. Content just to be near him, Mishka stayed where she was.

She must have fallen asleep, too, because sometime during the night, she opened her eyes and Mia was there, standing beside the bed. She’d bandaged her hand and showered.

“Touch him and die,” Mishka said. “I will not tell you again.”

Dallas limped through the doorway and stopped beside Mia. His features were drawn tight, his eyes flat. He did not look like the upbeat, vivacious agent she’d once read about, nor the sarcastic agent she’d met all those days ago. He was the man Jaxon had once tried to be: unemotional, unruffled.

He and Mia shared a look and then said in unison, “I’m sorry.”

They shared another looked and sighed. They sounded gruff but sincere.

“Here it is, flat out,” Mia said. “I’m not apologizing for failing to trust you. Considering everything that happened and that goddamn list, which I still don’t understand, by the way, that was a good decision on my part.”

“Identify weaknesses so you can eliminate them.” She stared pointedly. “Isn’t that standard agency procedure?”

Mia’s mouth fell open. She closed it with a snap and glared at Mishka. “Fine. That’s great. Smart, even. But like I was saying, I’m not apologizing for that.” A pause, most of her aggression melting. “I’m apologizing because you love him, I saw it every time you looked at him, and I wanted to rip him away from you. Tit for tat, you could say.”

“My reasons for apologizing were a bit different, but whatever.” Dallas shrugged. “I shot at you.”

Mishka relaxed, but only slightly. “It’s fine,” she said, obviously surprising them. She’d done worse. How could she blame them for these minor occurrences? “All of it.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jaxon said. When had he awoken? She hadn’t felt him move. “You almost killed her.”

Hesitant, Dallas stepped forward. “You can’t beat me up about it more than I’m doing to myself.”

“I could try.”

Dallas squared his shoulders, half accepting, half belligerent. “Try, then.”

Mishka didn’t want to be responsible for a rift between Jaxon and his friends. She loved him too much for that. Propping her weight on her elbow, she leaned down and nibbled on his ear. “Forgive them. Please. Think of the fun we’ll have torturing them mercilessly with their guilt.”

His gaze locked with hers. “Can I tell them the truth?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Sure, why not?”

His lips twitched but his eyes were hard as he stared over at the pair. He told them about the chip, how she’d been controlled by it. For once, she wasn’t ashamed, guilty, or angry that someone might pity her. The present and future would no longer be spoiled by the past. She wouldn’t allow it.

By the time Jaxon finished, Mia and Dallas were pale. Shamed.

Mishka took pity on them, but only because they’d always had Jaxon’s best interests at heart. “How’s the hand?” she asked Mia.

“Healing,” the agent said, then added dryly, “Thanks for not slicing the bones to powder.”

“My pleasure.”

“I know you could have done a lot worse. Bitch,” she muttered.

Mishka tried not to smile. Coming from Mia, the word was a compliment. Sometimes. “I have a policy not to hurt ballerinas more than necessary.”

Mia ran her tongue over her teeth, but remained silent.

She turned to Dallas. “No side effect after stun?”

“Besides the personality change?” he asked, his voice as dry as Mia’s had been. At least there was emotion now, self-deprecating as it was. “Besides wanting to kill you one moment, then kill myself instead the next?”

“Yeah. Besides.”

“Nope.”

They shared a grin.

“Good,” she said, and kissed Jaxon’s lips. “Does this mean we’re all friends now?”

“Hell, no,” Mia said. “I’m not painting your nails or shopping with you. This just means we’re not going to try and kill each other.”

“That’s all I ever wanted.” Mishka eyed Dallas again. “So. Since you two are friends, does that mean she paints your nails?”

“Sadly, yes.” Dallas uttered the words deadpan.

Jaxon laughed. “Get out of here, guys. You can send her flowers or something.”

They argued about the flowers (who would do the sending) and the nail painting (what color looked best on Dallas) the whole way out.

Mishka looked up at Jaxon, who was smiling up at her. However, he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes. “You tamed me, my friends—kind of—and the Schön. Only one thing left for our happily ever after.”

Yes, she thought. The chip. As soon as he recovered, they’d have to deal with that damn chip.

Four and a half weeks later

Jaxon had Mishka moved into his—their—house, a ring on her finger, and now, his wife, fresh from surgery. Twice he almost lost her. Twice her heart stopped beating and the doctors had to bring her back.

Twice he almost died himself.

He would rather have her with him, dependent on Estap’s survival, than live a single day without her, he realized all too soon yet all too late. He hated himself for pushing her to have the surgery.

But after sixteen hours of hell on Earth, watching from a glass partition as his wife’s hair was shaved and her head freaking sawed open like a melon, he finally felt like he could breathe again and wasn’t in danger of vomiting his intestines.