Page 72 of Warrior's Cross

Julian sighed tiredly and closed his eyes, his body relaxing and going limp in the bed. “How can two tiny little shots make your entire body so bloody sore?” he asked Cameron miserably as his words slurred together.

Cameron bit his lip. “What sort of shots did they give you?” he asked in a voice that wavered with amusement.

“Tetanus and rabies,” Julian answered grumpily. His accent began to morph into something that sounded almost foreign. As if there was a hint of New England to it, maybe. “Fucking rabies. Like I’m a fucking dog.”

Cameron bit his lips hard to keep from laughing. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked after he was sure he could form the words.

“No,” Julian groaned. “My arm hurts. My leg hurts. My head hurts. My ass hurts,” he rattled off in complaint as he fussed with his pillow and wallowed miserably.

Shaking his head tolerantly, Cameron reached out to comb his fingers through Julian’s hair. “Poor baby. Your ass hurts, and I didn’t even get to contribute.”

“I can’t believe he brought you here,” Julian grumbled against his pillow.

Cameron frowned. “He said you asked him to.”

“He’s a lying bastard,” Julian claimed grumpily. “Why would I want you to see me like this?” he asked as he finally looked up at Cameron with glazed black eyes.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’ve seen me a hell of a lot worse,” Cameron said, frowning slightly. He leaned over to kiss the corner of Julian’s eye. “You don’t have to be Mr. Tough Guy all the time.”

“Yes, but...” Julian groaned softly and shifted in bed. “I’m cranky,” he admitted. “And drugged,” he added with a point of one long, scarred finger toward a bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

“You’re allowed,” Cameron said as he cocked his head at the bottle. He shifted slightly. “You really want me to go?”

Julian looked up at him again and pursed his lips, frowning. “Not really,” he answered finally. “If you lift my arm for me I might hug you,” he added with a small smile.

Cameron stood up, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed next to Julian. He stayed sitting up and leaned against the headboard.

“C’mere and let me hold you,” he suggested. “I promise I won’t tell.”

Julian looked around warily as if not quite trusting the situation.

Cameron didn’t imagine Julian got many offers of comfort when he was miserable like this. He struggled to push himself up from the mattress, the muscles in his back and left arm bunching with the extra effort, and he held his right arm to his body protectively as he slid a little on the bed. When he moved, the sheets fell down even more, revealing a large piece of gauze taped to his lower thigh, just above his knee. It was stark white against his skin, with a hint of red spreading through the center. He lowered himself slowly and laid his cheek on Cameron’s thigh with a sound that was nearly a whimper.

Cameron sighed and shook his head slightly as he rubbed one hand up and down Julian’s back slowly, the other beginning to twirl through his hair. “You’re bleeding,” he murmured sadly. “What really happened, Julian?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a dog,” Julian insisted gruffly.

“A dog?” Cameron looked at the bandages and then at Julian’s arm. “You got attacked by a dog? Seriously? Was it Cujo?”

“It was a big dog,” Julian insisted. He pointed at his bite wound and displayed the defensive marks on his arms. The teeth appeared to have sunk into the muscle of his quad and taken out a chunk of it before the dog went for his throat. He’d gotten his arms up in time, and they’d taken the punishmentmeant for his jugular. “He didn’t even have to stand on his tip-toes,” he insisted as his eyes seemed to close against his will.

Cameron petted him soothingly. “I’m sure he was very big. And scary,” he murmured. It was on the tip of his tongue to question Julian further, but he couldn’t do it. Not when Julian was so obviously not in control of his senses.

“There wasn’t supposed to be a dog,” Julian repeated slowly. “They had to know there was a dog,” he muttered to himself. “That’s something you’re supposed to tell people.”

Cameron had no idea what to say, and none of what Julian was telling him was making much sense to him. “Shhhh,” he urged softly.

“Sleep.” He kept petting gently.

“I think they tried to kill me, Cam,” Julian mumbled, using Cameron’s nickname for the first time that Cameron had ever heard. “Death by dog. Big-ass fucking dog.”

Both Cameron’s brows rose, and he chewed his lip again. Julian had to be talking about work. Nothing else made sense. “Who would think that would kill you, Julian? You’re better than any dog.” Okay, so, he had no idea what he was talking about. But he believed in Julian’s skill, nonetheless.

“He was like Rin Tin Tin on speed,” Julian said, his words running even more. “Preston wouldn’t shoot him.”

“Well,” Cameron said, face screwing up, “I’m not sure I could shoot a dog either.”

“He was eating me!” Julian insisted pitifully. “I had to get a shot! Two shots! And I have to go back for more rabies shots! I’m probably going to wake up with fur,” he claimed, his oddly accented words beginning to truly slur with exhaustion and misery on top of the effects of the medication.

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