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her abdomen, she doubled over with a shocked cry, her vision blurring.
    â€œRight.” Face grim, Bastien rose with her in his arms and headed for the door. “You’re going to see a doctor, no damn argument.”
    In too much pain to respond, her insides shredded open by clawing blades that cut and tore, she curled into the protective strength of his body. It was a quick ride to the nearest twenty-four-hour clinic, but the pain faded rapidly in those fleeting minutes, to the point that though she felt bruised from the inside out by the time they arrived, she was otherwise fine.
    Mystified, the Medical Psy on duty did a number of scans using his ability to see through the skin; he even requested a second opinion from a human colleague. Neither had any answers. “Do you want to remain overnight?” the M-Psy asked. “In case the pain reoccurs.”
    Kirby was shaking her head before the medic finished speaking.
    â€œI hate hospitals,” she said to Bastien when he frowned. “I’ll feel better at home.” Regardless of the fact she’d never needed intrusive medical attention of the kind that could explain her dislike, it was a gut-wrenching one, close to a phobia if she was honest. The smell of a certain disinfectant seemingly used in all medical facilities made her want to retch. Even now, her bruised muscles cramped, stomach twisting. “I won’t be able to rest here.”
    Bastien squeezed her hand and only then did she realize she had a death grip on him. “All right.” He didn’t speak again until the doctor had prescribed some painkillers and they were in the car on their way back to her apartment.
    â€œYou call me if it happens again.” An order.
    Shifting in the passenger seat to face him, she curled her tingling fingertips into her palms. “You’re being pushy and bossy.”
    â€œI get that way when I’m worried about someone I carefor.” It was near to a growl, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “You will tell me?”
    Shaken by the blunt statement of care, she said, “Yes,” her irritability spiraling without warning into a joy so piercing that it terrified. God, she was falling too hard, too fast, her emotional equilibrium nonexistent around the changeling in the driver’s seat.
    A serrated pain in her chest, three knives drawn through the
inside
of her skin.

CHAPTER 4

    B astien glanced at her at once, though she hadn’t made a sound. “You’re hurting.” His fingers brushed over her cheek before he turned his attention back to the road, his tension apparent in the roughness of his voice. “We’ll be home soon.”
    Kirby’s throat thickened. He was so wonderful. How was she supposed to protect her already battered heart? “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said, scared in a way that sent her pulse stammering.
    This time when Bastien reached out, it was to gently squeeze her nape. “We’ll figure it out.”
    He kept the warm strength of his hand on the sensitive, vulnerable skin until he had to remove it to maneuver the car into a parking spot half a block down from her apartment building. “Wait there.”
    Scowling—just because she understood his protectiveness, even adored it, didn’t mean she was about to allow him to boss her around—she pushed the passenger-side door open right as he reached her. She looked up . . . to find herself the focus of leopard-green eyes that glowed in the darkness. “I can walk,” she said, even as her breath caught at the sheer, wild beauty of him.
    He refused to budge from in front of her. “You’re barefoot.”
    â€œ
Bastien
”—she wished she could growl, too—“you are not carrying me again.” She was an independent adult female and it was
critical
Bastien see her that way, not as a weakling he had to cosset.