“Stop squirming,”the healer muttered.
“I’m not squirming,” Vlad grumbled. He was lying face down on an examination table in the New York coven’s infirmary, butt exposed to the elements and dignity in tatters. “I’m expressing my discomfort in a manly way.”
“You’re squirming,” Delphine drawled from where she leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Though her expression remained solemn, Vlad could tell she was grinning inside.
He scowled. “I got shot in the ass. I think I’m entitled to some squirming.”
Tarang made a worried sound next to the table.
The healer, a middle-aged witch with steel-gray hair and zero patience for his complaints, prodded the wound with glowing green fingers. “The bullet went clean through. You’re lucky the guy didn’t aim any lower or it would have—you know.”
“Emasculated him?” Cortes contributed, struggling to keep a straight face.
Popo snickered on his shoulder.
“I was gonna say blow one of his balls clean off, but that works too,” the witch grunted. Her familiar, a stoat, squealed softly on her shoulder.
Vlad cut his eyes to Cortes. “How about you step outside? I’m barely hanging on to the shreds of my modesty as it is.”
“Heck no,” Cortes chuckled. “I need to immortalize this moment for Mae and Nikolai.”
To Vlad’s relief, the familiar twinge that should have clenched his heart failed to manifest at the mention of the Witch Queen’s name.
“If you dare take a picture, I’ll tell Anya what happened in that strip club we went to for that Christmas party with theBlack Devils,” he growled at Cortes.
The Colombian’s expression fell. “Dude, that’s low even for you.”
“What’d you do?” Delphine asked.
Cortes sighed. “Something no man should ever do to a dancing pole. In my defense, I was exceptionally drunk that night.”
“You were fabulous, my Enrique,” Popo gushed. “No one could look as good as you sliding and grinding?—”
“Shut up, Bird Brain,” Cortes snapped.
“How much longer?” Vlad asked the healer between gritted teeth.
“There, all done,” the witch said brightly. “I’d suggest you avoid sitting for the next few hours.”
“Great,” Vlad said sourly, yanking his trousers up. “I’ll just hover.”
“We have a doughnut ring somewhere,” the witch said helpfully. “Would you like me to fetch?—?”
“No!”
“Is he always this cranky?” the witch asked Delphine and Cortes.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of the super soldier’s mouth. “He has his moments.”
Vlad knew from the way her gaze skimmed his body exactly what she was thinking about. Heat coiled through his gut despite himself.
The infirmary door opened. Bryony swept in, her familiar Penley at her heels. The High Priestess stopped and watched as Vlad carefully slid off the couch.
She raised an eyebrow. “You really got shot in the ass?”
“No comment.” The incubus adjusted his outfit with as much dignity as he could muster. “Have you heard from Mae? We’ve been trying to ring her.”