Page 51 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
"I got high on immortal spit. Fantastic. Does that make Magnus my dealer?"
She pursed her lips. "Not really, since you are never getting bitten again. For guys, it's once and over with. Luckily, I'm not a guy." She winked. "But I'd be careful about calling it spit to Magnus's face. He's a nice guy, but you know, those are the most dangerous when aggravated."
"Do you know him well?"
"Everyone knows Magnus. He's one of the clan's senior Guardians. You were lucky to have him as your inducer."
"I'll be sure to send him a thank-you card. 'Thanks for the bite, big guy. Your venom is top shelf.'" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you ever tried his venom?"
"Magnus is my cousin." She cast him a glare. "Fates, you really don't have a filter, do you?"
"Had one once. Didn't like it. Returned it for store credit."
She stood, smoothing down her scrubs. "You need to rest. Your body needs all the energy it can get for the transition. I'll be back in an hour to see how you're doing."
He didn't want her to leave.
"Will you be my nurse for the duration of my transition?"
"Why? Are you trying to see if the other nurse is hotter than me?"
"That's impossible. I'm trying to figure out how long I have to impress you with my sparkling personality."
"Well, aren't you presumptuous?"
"I prefer optimistic."
She opened the door. "One hour, Tim. Do something about your persistent condition before I get back."
"It's a medical marvel," he called after her. "They should study it for science."
Her laughter echoed down the hallway as the door closed behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his extremely inconvenient physical response to the most gorgeous and fascinating woman he'd ever met.
He stared at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had just happened. He was transitioning into an immortal. His body was apparently rewriting itself from the ground up. He had tubes in places that tubes should never go. And somehow, despite all of that, he'd just had the most engaging conversation he'd had in years with a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of his fantasies and talked like she'd stepped out of his most naughty dreams.
The universe, Tim decided, had a seriously twisted sense of humor.
But for once in his life, he wasn't complaining.
He closed his eyes, trying to will his body to calm down before Hildegard returned.
No pressure.
No pressure at all.
17
HILDEGARD
Asmile played on Hildegard's lips as she closed the door to Tim's room behind her.
What a character.
She'd been warned, of course, but all she'd heard were the negatives. What they hadn't mentioned was that he was funny. Or that beneath the sarcasm lay a charming, quick wit and self-deprecating humor. They certainly hadn't warned her about the way his whole face transformed when he smiled—a real smile, not the cutting smirk she'd expected.
Tim was just a sharp-tongued and sharp-minded guy who wielded his snark and sarcasm as weapons of self-defense. He was like a cute porcupine, protecting a soft interior with a prickly exterior.
"How's our problem child doing?" Julian asked as she entered his office.
