Page 51 of Shadow Blind

“He prefers that name.” O’Neill’s voice and face were deadpan. When he turned to face the aisle, irritation flickered in his eyes. His voice chilled. “How ‘bout giving us some room?”

Demi glanced in the direction he was staring. Aiden wiped a hand down his face, his fingers lingering over his mouth like he was locking his response inside. Annoyed black eyes met irritated green ones. Neither man gave an inch. At this rate, they’d still be standing there four hours from now when the plane landed.

She turned, squeezing past O’Neill and the cat carrier. “I’m going to use the restroom. When I come out, I hope you two have moved past this juvenile impasse.”

By the time she exited the bathroom, both men were sitting again. She returned to her previous seat. O’Neill was stretched back, eyes closed. All relaxed, arrogant male. It was too bad she didn’t get any quivers, goosebumps, or butterflies when she looked at him. She grimaced. Sadly, Aiden was the only man who set her hormones ablaze. It was going to be hard to find someone new. She sighed and settled deeper into her chair, staring at O’Neill’s closed eyes. Something told her he wasn’t sleeping.

“Did Trident’s wounds look okay? Was there any sign of infection?” She hadn’t seen any that morning, but infection and reinjury were a constant worry. As was the fear she wasn’t caring for the cat properly.

O’Neill’s tawny eyebrows knit. He opened his eyes and sat forward, glancing toward the kennel with its sleeping cargo. “How long ago was his surgery?”

“Seven days. There’s only three more days of the antibiotic.”

She hoped there was a vet clinic where they were going. And a shopping center. Tag and Tram had rushed her out the door without letting her pack a suitcase. Fresh clothes were a priority.

A flicker of gentleness touched his hard face. “He’s fine. No sign of infections. His surgical wounds are healing. Look, he’s been on his own for a long time. He’s used to taking care of himself. Trust me, you don’t need to worry about him.”

“Right.” She pushed aside the worry about Trident’s next dose of meds. That was something she’d worry about when she had to give them.

Apparently, he knew what she was thinking, because he shook his head slightly, his green eyes softening. “Stop worrying about him. You won’t have trouble getting his medicine in him tonight. He knows you’re helping him now.”

He did? How?

“He hates the name you gave him, though. He wants you to change it.”

She laughed. “Right.”

Except there was no humor on his face. Was he joking? Her smile slowly faded as his face flattened. Maybe not.

“Does he have a name in mind?” she asked, curious. What did he think the cat should be named? It had to be O’Neill objecting to the name, not the feline. The cat wouldn’t care.

“Leo, Zeus, Odin, even King would work. But he likes His Majesty the best.” O’Neill’s voice was sincere. So was his face. There wasn’t even a flicker of humor in his dark green eyes.

Seriously? He was acting like he’d held a one-on-one intimate conversation with the cat. Was he crazy or being facetious?

Still, the name didn’t have to stick. She’d put no thought into it, just grabbed it because it was associated with SEAL mythos. She really should give him a different name, one that matched his personality. Besides, Trident would be a constant reminder of her poor choice of romantic partners.

She glanced down the plane, catching sight of Aiden’s black hair and rugged face from behind Stick Man. Her Dear Aiden speech was memorized—at least when she was practicing in front of the mirror. Giving it in person, to his face, was something else entirely. Her belly was already twisting with nerves.

It was going to be a long three hours.

Chapter twenty-two

Day 7

Denali, Alaska

“Hey, asshole, wake up.”

Something hard slammed into the side of Aiden’s calf. He jolted up so fast he almost tumbled, face-first, out of his seat and into his captive’s lap, which would have been humiliating times ten.

A gray, wintry landscape and misty, elongated shadows followed him into wakefulness. The murky images wavered, straining against the sunlight streaming through the open windows. His heart still pounding like a motherfucker, he blinked the images away, then rubbed his burning eyes. That damn dream again. It seemed like the hellish thing was waiting for him every time he closed his eyes.

At least he’d finally recognized why the white, twisted faces looked so familiar. With their gaping, elongated mouths and eyes, they looked like the death masks from the Scream movies.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Cosky snapped from across the aisle. Annoyed eyes scanned Aiden’s face. Slowly, a frown knit his forehead. “Even the rankest banana knows better than to nap while on guard duty. You’re asking for a blade across the throat.”

“He doesn’t have a blade.” Aiden’s tone was indifferent, which was concerning, or should have been. But a soul thick lethargy blunted his unease.

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