Page 78 of The Hive Queen

He hugs Anny closer. “Sure. No problem.”

Marc tips his head toward the building before he leans against the van. “Go on without me. I’m no good at feeling out magic, so I’ll just be in your way.”

Flint’s head lifts, and the vulnerability in his expression cuts into me. If I hadn’t told him to leave, he would have never been put into this situation.

He glances at Marc before dropping his head once more. “Thanks, cowboy.”

Marc reaches out and ruffles his black hair. “I’m pissed at you, but I’m glad you’re all right, pretty boy.”

“Sorry,” Flint whispers, reaching up to catch Marc’s hand. “I’m an insensitive ass sometimes.”

Marc turns his body inward toward the van, his voice a low rumble. “And I don’t speak my mind often enough.”

Sharpe’s hand on my arm draws me away, and I quickly wipe the sting from my eyes. It’s not a fix, but it’s a beginning, and their talking gives me hope we can mend this rift.

Up on the roof, more techs bustle around in white onesies, and we accept the blue foot-covers thrust at us before Sharpe leads me past the body to a large, air conditioning unit.

Yellow flags with numbers mark the outer edge of the pool of honey, and I kneel next to it.

Sharpe stands behind me. “The first drone came right for the honey. He was eating it before he noticed Flint, so I believe that’s what drew him here and not the presence of witchblood.”

I extend one hand over the honey, trying to sense any flickers of ley line magic. “Was there more on the street?”

“I wondered the same,” Sharpe says. “But so far, we haven’t found any.”

“They must have good noses to smell it all the way up here.” I shake my head. “There’s no magic that I can sense.”

“That backs up what Flint said.” Sharpe bends to cup my elbow as I stand.

A scorched dent in the metal paneling catches my eye, and my gut tightens as I point at it. “Did Amalia do that?”

Sharpe’s lips thin. “Yeah. There’s a matching one on the other side.”

My hands curl into fists. “Did it catch Flint?”

“Yeah. It threw him across the roof. He landed near there.” Sharpe points toward the short wall that acts as a safety barrier. “He says he’s just bruised, but I think his shoulder and hip are pretty banged up. He refused to let me call an ambulance and have the paramedics look at him. I doubt he can drive in his condition.”

Of course, he’d refuse. He’s almost as stubborn as I am with that kind of stuff. “I’ll make sure someone looks him over at the Conservatory.”

Sharpe’s eyes widen. “You’re not letting him come home?”

“If Marc is fine with it, I want him home.” I slip my hands into my pockets and grasp my lighter for comfort. “But we’re out of the herbal mix that helps with healing, and if I need to go to the Conservatory to pick some up, then I’m shoving Flint into the healing waters there while I’m at it. They’re better than anything we can do at home.”

Humor pushes back the exhaustion on Sharpe’s face. “What? No healing sex for Flint?”

I grip the side of Sharpe’s jacket. “I’m the only one that works for, so don’t let him trick you into anything.”

“Hmm.” He leans down. “Sounds rigged to me.”

“Oh, it definitely is.” I pull him closer so the techs can’t overhear. “We brought your gun and badge. Marc will put them in the glove box in the van.”

“I appreciate that.” Sharpe touches his empty belt. “I can’t say I enjoyed facing off with these drones without my gun. You’ll need a new flare-gun cartridge for the van, by the way.”

“That was fast thinking.” I search his eyes. “Are you really okay?”

“I’m unsettled,” he admits. “This was the first time I’ve ever been affected by magic, and I can’t say I enjoyed the experience.”

“I’m just glad you were able to fight through it to save Flint.” Shivering, I step closer to Sharpe. “Thank you so much for being with him.”

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