He nodded, then looked past Ryn. “Syn, how fast can you repair my face using Prillion?”
Ryn was aghast at his question. “Are you out of your mind? You do know that shit’s illegal, right?”
Darling shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure the Tavali”—he cast a meaningful look at Ryn—“can lay hands on it. And it’s not illegal in my empire.”
The look on Syn’s face called him all kinds of stupid, but he thought it over before he answered. “I could have the bandages off in about seventy-two hours, but there’s no guarantee that one surgery will make that much of a difference. Might not make any improvement at all. That being said, there is a new procedure with skin nanos that might accelerate it and do better than standard reconstruction. It’s still experimental though, and I’ve not used it. I’d have to call in a few favors to get someone to the table who might be willing to try it. But again, I can’t guarantee anything. And I don’t know how your body will cope with any of it. We won’t have a clue until you’re under and you know how risky that is.”
Yes, he did.
But at this point, he’d rather be dead than continue living with his current disfigured face. He saw the panic in Zarya’s eyes that told him she didn’t want him to risk it at all. Gods, how he wished the rest of the world held her heart. That everyone could see past the ugliness and judge him for something less petty.
It was why he loved her.
Unfortunately, others weren’t like that and he knew it better than most.
“Not like you can make it any worse,” he said under his breath. He spoke louder to Syn. “Do what you can, as fast as you can. I’ll call the meeting for the end of next week.” He turned back to Ryn. “Can you run things while I’m down?”
He didn’t miss the reluctance in Ryn’s eyes, but for once his brother agreed to help him. “I’m willing to try. You going to kick my ass if I screw something up?”
“Probably.”
“Oh well then,” Ryn said with exaggerated enthusiasm, “by all means, let me get started right away.”
Zarya suppressed a smile at Ryn’s sarcasm.
Darling ignored it entirely as he walked over to Syn. “How long do you need to prep?”
“I can have you in surgery in about four hours from now. Or we can wait until tomorrow morning.”
Darling’s gaze locked with hers. She wished she could read his mood, but he gave nothing away. “I want it over with. Please, get started on the prep.”
“You sure?” Syn asked.
He nodded.
“All right. Hauk and I will jump on it. See you in four hours at HQ.” They headed for the door.
Darling glanced to Drake. “I really wish you’d go home.”
“I am home.”
A fierce tic started in Darling’s jaw. But he didn’t say anything more about Drake’s refusal. “Can you and Zarya give me a few minutes alone with Ryn and Maris?”
Drake inclined his head to him before he offered his arm to Zarya.
Surprised by the unexpected chivalry, she tucked her hand into the crook of Drake’s elbow.
As they started for the door, Darling stopped them. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “You understand why I’m doing this, right?”
“I do, but I don’t agree with it, and I really wish you’d at least wait until tomorrow. You’ve barely had time to heal from the attack.”
His gaze softened before he leaned down to kiss her.
Zarya held him to her when he started to pull away. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
He nuzzled her cheek. “I know. You’ll follow me into hell and beat me if I do,” he whispered in her ear.
“You know as stubborn as I am that I will, too.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be up in a few.”
She nodded before Drake led her from the room.
Drake didn’t speak until they were alone in the back hallway. Then his entire demeanor turned stiff and icy as he pulled her to a stop. “Why are you here?”
His accusatory tone brought up all of her defenses. “Excuse me?”
He raked her with a suspicious glare. “I’m trying to understand what I saw just now. I’ve heard every rumor from you’re Darling’s kitchen slave, his military prisoner, his political hostage, to the most ludicrous of all that says you’re his mistress. What exactly are you to my brother?”
That was a difficult question to answer. While she had no doubt that Darling loved her, she wasn’t sure what that meant exactly.
Yes, he’d proposed to her, but since they’d gotten back together, he hadn’t breathed a single word about marrying her again. Nor had he asked her about her missing engagement ring that the slaver had taken from her. There was no talk about having a future together—not the way they used to talk about it for hours on end.
When they were alone now, all she could focus on was the shadow of mistrust that would darken his eyes. That unguarded look of painful torment.