“Rachel,” she answered easily. “Dr. Rachel Argeneau. Your doctor, so be a good man and lie down and rest. Doctor’s orders.”
Scotty scowled groggily, and opened his mouth to tell her to bugger off, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to get the words out. His mouth drooped and then his eyelids did, and he was pretty sure he fell back on the bed. Before he could worry about it too much, he was asleep.
The next time Scotty woke, it was much more slowly. Pain and hunger drew him inexorably toward consciousness until he blinked his eyes open. He was in the blue room Sam had prepared for him at the Enforcer house. It was dark, the curtains open to reveal a full moon and twinkling stars, and he had to wonder what the hell he was doing in bed. He should have been up and about helping to catch rogues at this hour.
Pushing aside the sheets and blankets that covered him, Scotty sat up and slid his feet to the floor, but then just sat there for a moment. He felt incredibly weak and had no idea why. He probably needed blood, Scotty decided and grabbed the post of the headboard to steady himself as he stood up. His legs trembled, threatening to give out, but he was sure a bit of blood would fix that right up. Determined to find some, he started to move, intending to walk around the bed, but paused abruptly as he bumped into something in the dark. His eyes didn’t appear to be focusing properly, and his night vision wasn’t working as it should.
Beginning to worry now, Scotty reached for the lamp on the bedside table and flicked it on, startled when the bright light brought a moan from the other side of the bed. Turning, he stared at the figure lying on the opposite side, and then gaped at the horror looking back at him. Charred, black skin mixed with patches of bloody red spots and two eyes presently a solid gold as the nanos did their work. Scotty opened his mouth on an alarmed shout even as the figure in his bed released a terrified shriek, and then the floor was rushing up to meet him.
The next time Scotty woke, he did so abruptly, his eyes opening to stare at the ceiling overhead. Memories from the nightmares he’d endured crowded into his mind, but he forced them away to take stock of himself. He wasn’t in pain, wasn’t even feeling hunger, the room wasn’t on fire, no burning women were dancing before him, and no charred monsters lay in the bed with him. Scotty was quite sure he was awake this time . . . and he didn’t feel half-bad.
“Are you just going to lie there staring at the ceiling all day, or did you want to talk to me?”
Scotty turned his head on the pillow to peer at Magnus. He opened his mouth to ask how long he’d been down, and “Where’s Beth?” came out.
Magnus’s mouth twitched with amusement at the question.
“She is in her room. We thought it best to separate the two of you after you both had fits when you saw each other the last time,” he answered easily. “I just came from there and she is doing well. She was burned worse than you, but seems to be healing quicker. Must be because she is younger,” he taunted him.
Scotty scowled at him for the attempt to insult him, and sat up abruptly in bed, happy to find there was no weakness or trembling this time as he shifted his feet to the floor and stood. He was wearing one of those horrible hospital gowns, though, he noted with a grimace.
“You should not be out of bed, my friend,” Magnus said, standing to move to his side. “You are not finished healing. Rachel will give you hell if she catches you.”
“Who the devil is Rachel?” Scotty asked, but had a vague recollection of what he thought had been a dream. Some woman telling him her name was Rachel Argeneau, and she was his doctor. If he recalled correctly, she had ordered him to rest.
“She’s the doctor who has been nursing you back to health,” Magnus said easily as Scotty started around the bed toward the closet. Scotty had reached and opened the closet door when Magnus announced, “She found you most difficult, and said it was patients like you that made her decide to work with the dead in the morgue rather than live patients.”
“The morgue?” Scotty turned on him with horror. “Ye had a mortician doctoring me?”
Magnus shrugged. “Well, she was the only one available and beggars cannot be choosers. Besides, the nanos really do all the work.”
“You’d best not let my wife hear you say that. Hell, I’m offended to hear it myself.”
Scotty had just turned back to the open closet door, but at that comment, swiveled to glance at the man in the doorway. He raised his eyebrows as he took in his slim build, dirty-blond hair, and silver-blue eyes.
“This is Etienne Argeneau,” Magnus announced. “He is Rachel’s life mate and husband.”
“That I am,” Etienne said mildly, and then eyed Scotty and said, “And you’re Cullen MacDonald, the patient who has kept my wife busy for the last three nights and two days trying to keep you asleep and comfortable while you healed.”
“Hmm,” Magnus murmured. “That is true. She had a devil of a time keeping you under. You would wake up screaming, or get up and try to walk around. She had us put you in restraints at one point. Those tranquilizers they developed do not work well on you at all.”
“No,” Scotty admitted, turning to the closet to pull out a pair of black jeans. “I was shot with three of them my first day here and wasn’t out for long.”
“How long?” Donny asked, making his arrival known. The younger immortal narrowed his eyes on Scotty as he entered the room to stand next to Etienne. “You weren’t awake when I dragged you to the SUV and hefted you into it, were you? Because you could have saved me a lot of trouble if you’d just let me know you were awake and could walk.”
“Aye,” Scotty agreed with an evil smile as he dragged his jeans on and did them up. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to listen to the conversation ye had with Beth on the way to the house.”
“Hear anything interesting?” Magnus asked with amusement.
“Just Donny being a wee clipe, and Beth saying she thinks I hate her,” Scotty admitted as he removed the hospital gown and turned back to the closet to search for a shirt. He’d hoped to hear more, but Beth had turned the conversation to the boy rather than talk about herself.
“What’s a clipe?” Donny asked with a frown.
“A tattletale,” Magnus informed him.
“I don’t tattle,” Donny protested.
“Ye told her I was speeding to get to her,” Scotty pointed out, shrugging into a white linen shirt.
“Well, yeah, but to prove you didn’t hate her, not to get you in trouble,” Donny pointed out.
“Hmm,” Scotty muttered as he finished doing up his buttons. Glancing to Magnus then, he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Beth?”
“I told you, she’s in her room,” Magnus answered.
“Aye, but where is that?” Scotty asked impatiently.
“Oh, you do not know,” Magnus realized and stood up. “Well, I can take you there, but you might give her nightmares.”
“What?” Scotty asked with surprise. “Why?”