Page 114 of Elven Lies

“Enough for visitors?”

“I sure as shit wouldn’t have waddled my ass up all those stairs just to tell you to stay away, I can tell youthatmuch.” The healer chuckled. “Yeah, kid. You can come down and see him whenever you want. Honestly, it’d probably do him more good than anything else. You too. You look like shit.”

Sinking back against her chair, Rebecca huffed out a laugh and let the relief and gratitude rush through her for as long as it took before she could stand without trembling. “Then I’ll come by. Thanks for climbing all those stairs just to let me know.”

“Uh-huh.” Zida brushed down the front of her loose, baggy dress and scoffed. “But so you know, in the future, I’ll just pick up the damn phone instead. This is a one-time courtesy. Don’t get used to it.”

The healer shuffled back through the door without another word, but Rebecca gave herself a moment to let the news fully sink in.

She’d hoped for Maxwell’s quick and easy recovery, though she admittedly hadn’t expected it so soon. He’d been unconscious for two days. She hadn’t dared hope he might come around as early as this. Still, she couldn’t have been more grateful for it.

She also couldn’t quite let herself believe this was real.

Maxwell was in the clear and would pull through without issue. The disappointment of finding out down the road that shehadn’tsaved him, that she’d only made things worse, was too painful to consider.

Maintaining a little skepticism would protect her from the heartbreak of such an unlikely but still possible scenario. After all, she hadn’t been able to heal him on her own without Rowan’s help. It could have been because his injuries had simply been too severe, or it could have been something about shifters or Maxwell specifically.

Or maybe the frustratingly unexplained connection between them had blocked her abilities and required Rowan’s help to save the shifter.

Whatever the reason, though, Maxwell was still here. Still in recovery but awake, well enough to speak. If his injuries had caused any serious and concerning side effects, Zida would have said something.

She had to see him.

Not wanting to seem desperate to either Zida or Maxwell, Rebecca forced herself to stay in her office another ten minutes. It was almost longer than she could bear.

At the ten-minute mark, though, she was back on her feet without trembling, though her heart fluttered in her chest as she crossed the room to head down to the compound’s infirmary.

Never in her life had she been this excited, this jittery with nerves and hope and a healthy dose of lowered expectations she’d imposed on herself, to hear someonewasn’tdead.

But with Maxwell Hannigan, things were different. Everything was different.

When Rebecca reached the infirmary, she didn’t have to say a word about wanting a few minutes alone with her Headof Security. Zida volunteered all on her own, griping about how hungry she was and whether Bor had finally come to his senses about taking meal orders from those who appreciated his skills.

The healer left and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving Rebecca standing there in the infirmary’s front recovery room, staring at Maxwell.

Zida had already propped up his bed to help him sit at a relaxed angle, though the sheets were pulled up almost all the way to his chin, as if he were freezing in the normally comfortable temperature.

There was no sugarcoating it. He looked awful. Dark circles under his eyes, darker bruises peeking out from beneath the sheet—on his shoulder and along his collarbone, with fading remnants of others dotting his arms.

He looked like someone who’d just woken up after sleeping for almost forty-eight hours. But his eyes had retained their bright silver glow, flashing intermittently as she and Maxwell stared at each other.

And, of course, that ever-present tingling warmth flaring between them again, beyond either of their control.

Rebecca had felt it again the second she’d reached the bottom landing of the stairs, and the sensation had only intensified as she’d approached the infirmary.

Now, that dark, ancient, inexplicable pull toward the shifter called to her more fiercely than ever, tugging at her core, beckoning her ever closer.

If she’d ever truly believed the connection was only a figment of her imagination, those doubts would have left her now.

This was absolutely real, everything she felt even just standing here across the room while Maxwell lie in a recovery bed.

She didn’t have to know what it was or why it existed between them to know it was absolutely real.

“Hey.” The greeting sounded flat and insufficient in the infirmary’s silence, but how the hell else was she supposed to start a conversation, given the circumstances?

The flicker of a tired smile at the corners of his mouth made her heart leap into her throat.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come right away,” he said, his voice scratchy and hoarse, though she’d honestly expected him to sound much worse. “You must be busy with debriefings and new plans…”

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