Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
A mara had to admit she felt better after eating. The food had settled her nerves, but her exhaustion was almost overwhelming. What she really needed now was a shower and a change of clothes, but those luxuries would have to wait. Her first responsibility was to identify Lee’s body, a task that made her stomach churn but one she was determined to face out of respect for her brother.
The walk back to Joey’s room was silent, the only sound coming from their footsteps echoing in the now-quiet hospital halls. King walked beside her, his movements purposeful as his eyes scanned their surroundings. His presence made her feel safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
When they reached Joey’s room, Jill and Slade were sitting by his bedside, speaking in hushed tones. They both looked up as Amara and King entered.
“How’s he doing?” King asked, his voice low but firm.
Slade glanced at Joey, who appeared to be sleeping soundly. “He’ll be out pretty much the rest of the night,” he said. “I’ve got him on pain medication to keep him comfortable.”
Amara approached the bed, her gaze softening as she took in Joey’s peaceful expression. “What time is his surgery?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
“He’s scheduled for seven in the morning,” Slade replied. “That’s if his vitals remain stable overnight.” He shifted slightly, his tone turning reassuring. “I know you didn’t get to speak with the orthopedist, but I promise you, he’s the best in the area. Joey is in good hands.”
Amara nodded, though her stomach tightened with anxiety. Her throat felt dry as she forced herself to ask the question she had been dreading. “Will he be able to dance again?”
Slade hesitated, his expression turning serious. He met her gaze, not sugarcoating his words. “I’m going to be honest with you, Amara, I can’t promise that. This is a significant injury, and it’s going to take time, effort, and a lot of rehabilitation.” He paused, glancing at King before continuing. “But the advancements in medical technology are remarkable. There’s hope. Once the surgery is over, it’ll be up to Joey and how hard he works to recover.”
Amara’s shoulders sagged, but she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “He’s a fighter,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.
King stepped closer, his voice steady and confident. “Whatever he needs, we’ll make it happen. He won’t be doing this alone.”
Nodding, Amara leaned over and kissed Joey's forehead softly. Then, she looked at Jill, her voice catching in her throat. “Do you mind staying a little longer? I have to go and…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“Hey, you do whatever you have to do.” Jill stood and pulled her into a warm hug. “We’re not going anywhere. If anything changes, I’ll call King right away.”
Amara stepped back and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Jill.”
Turning, she saw King and Slade speaking quietly by the door. Slade glanced her way, his face solemn, and she could tell King had already told him where they were going. Slade walked over to her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry about your brother, Amara,” Slade said gently. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but I need you to take care of yourself. King told me you ate half a sandwich, which is good, but I need you to eat again later tonight and in the morning. Drink some orange juice also. We’ll need to take more blood from you tomorrow.”
Amara nodded. “I will,” she promised. She would do whatever it took to help Joey, even if it meant forcing herself to eat when she had no appetite.
“Good,” Slade said with a slight, approving nod before stepping back. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
King touched her elbow gently, ushering her out of the room and toward the elevator. As they stepped inside, Amara broke the silence. “Everyone is so nice,” she said softly, her voice tinged with wonder. “Are all the Warriors as kind as you and Dr. Buchanan?”
King chuckled as he pressed the button for the ground floor. “None of them are as nice as me,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a playful grin. “Most of them are assholes.”
Amara frowned, her gaze lifting to see his expression. “You’re lying,” she said, catching on to his teasing.
“Okay, maybe a few of them are decent,” King admitted as the elevator doors opened. He placed a hand against the door to hold it for her and led her toward the parking lot, his eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced vigilance.
As they reached his bike, he paused, frowning down at her. “You’re going to freeze,” he said, already shrugging out of his leather jacket. Before she could protest, he draped it over her shoulders and helped her into it.
“King, you’re in short sleeves, and I’ve got a sweater on,” Amara objected, starting to take the jacket off. He stopped her with a gentle hand. “You’re the one that’s going to freeze, not me.”
“I’m a vampire,” he reminded her with a smirk, flashing his fangs in a playful gesture. “The cold doesn’t bother me.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. “Then why do you wear a jacket in the first place?” she asked, raising a skeptical brow.
“It hides my weapons,” King replied matter-of-factly as he swung a leg over the bike. Sure enough, a handgun peeked out from the waistband of his jeans. He glanced over his shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips. “And it makes me look cool.”
Amara shook her head, a small smile breaking through. She climbed onto the bike behind him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his waist. She had almost said that she was a half-breed but didn’t. The truth was, she didn’t know what she was. Every bit of research she’d done on half-breeds didn’t fit her, not even close. She still felt the cold, didn’t crave blood to survive, and still needed sleep like any normal person. Despite everything that had happened, she didn’t feel different. Not really. And that terrified her. Because if she wasn’t a half-breed, then what the hell was she?
The engine roared to life, and King expertly maneuvered the bike out of the parking lot. At first, the cold January air stung Amara’s face, but she leaned her head against King’s broad back, seeking warmth and comfort. She hadn’t done that the first time she rode with him, but now, it felt natural.
Closing her eyes, she momentarily allowed herself to forget the grim task ahead. But reality lingered at the edges of her thoughts, a reminder that they weren’t heading to some peaceful destination. Instead, they were on their way to identify her brother, who was gone forever.
As the bike rumbled beneath her, she tightened her hold on King, drawing strength from his steady presence. She couldn’t face this alone, and with King beside her, she wouldn’t have to.
Amara slowly opened her eyes as the bike slowed, blinking at the dim surroundings. When the engine shut off, she sat up straight with a yawn and released her hold on King. “Are we here already?” she asked groggily.
“No,” King replied, his voice tight. “Get off the bike.”
“Huh? Why?” Amara yawned again, swinging her leg to dismount, but caught her foot on the seat in her sleepiness. Before she could tumble, King’s quick reflexes steadied her, his hand firm around her arm.
“Amara, you fell asleep and almost slid off the bike,” he said, his frown etched with concern.
“No, I didn’t,” she shot back, mirroring his frown as she shook her head.
King raised an eyebrow, disbelief evident on his face. “Why is it that every time someone’s told they fell asleep, they deny it?”
“I don’t know because I didn’t fall asleep,” Amara retorted, her tone laced with defiance. “I was just resting?—”
“Your eyes,” King interjected, finishing her sentence. His tone was dry but amused. “Another classic line from people who were clearly sleeping.”
Amara narrowed her eyes at him, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing. “Can you move up? There’s no room for me.”
“You’re riding in front of me this time,” King said firmly, his expression leaving no room for debate. “You scared the hell out of me when I felt you slipping.”
“I was not slipping,” she muttered, her cheeks warming. “I was—ugh, never mind.”
King ignored her grumbling and helped her climb onto the bike, positioning her in front of him. “Here,” he said, adjusting her legs to one side and guiding her to lean back against him. Her head settled just under his chin. “That’s better. Now I can make sure you don’t fall.”
Amara huffed, but the warmth of his chest was oddly comforting. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“I am smart,” King said with a chuckle. “And I’m guessing you’re not much of a morning person, either.”
“Why would you say that?” she asked, frowning up at him even as her eyes drooped.
“Because you’re a little grumpy when you’re woken up,” he teased, the grin evident in his voice.
“Am not,” Amara mumbled, yawning again as her body relaxed against him. “I was just resting my eyes.”
King chuckled softly, the sound rumbling against her. “Sure you were.”
A small smile played across Amara’s lips as the bike roared to life again, the vibrations lulling her further into a drowsy haze. Despite the dark road ahead and the grim task awaiting her, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety and peace. Resting her head more fully against King’s chest, she let herself drift, trusting him to carry her forward—literally and figuratively.