Page 61 of For the Ghastly and Beautiful

Chapter18

Imryll

DAY FORTY-ONE

Ada sits on the exam table, listening intently to Rin’s mother explain how birth control is vastly different from what she’s accustomed to.

All I can think about is how I had her bent across that table three days ago. If Shyla wasn’t in here, I would bounce Ada in my lap in this chair, digging my fingertips into her hips as she falls apart around me.

Every so often, she glances down, wiggling as if she’s having similar thoughts. I grin at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Something funny?” Shyla inquires, sounding just like Rinya.

“Imryll has a horrible sense of humor,” Ada answers without pause.

“Imy has a sense of humor?” Shyla asks, turning to me with narrowed eyes. “Since when?”

I stand and walk to the cabinets, busying my mind and hands, so I’ll stop thinking about my patient being naked in my lap. Because today, Ada isn’t here for me. I glance over my shoulder, winking at her, and she shakes her head in exasperation.

“Raf can remove the bit in your arm,” Shyla continues. “He was a doctor on Earth, so he knows—”

“I’m going to remove it,” I tell them. “Raf explained the procedure this morning before he left.”

“Didn’t trust the good doctor to touch her?” she teases.

“Actually, no.”

Shyla doesn’t even bat an eye at my confession. She leans against the table, holding Ada’s hand as I bring the tray of medical supplies to her side.

“I don’t know how you handle the four of them. Especially this one and his remorseless mouth. I can barely handle two.”

“She keeps our hands full,” I absently comment as I press my fingertips between Ada’s bicep and tricep.

“I can imagine. The Earth natives are always in a hurry. William runs all day and half the night. He exhausts me.”

Ada laughs. “What do you mean by his remorseless mouth? He’s got a silver tongue, but I wouldn’t say it’s sharp.”

“Silver cuts, too,” Shyla warns, but I ignore her. “He’s different with you, though. They’ve all changed.”

I work my way down toward Ada’s elbow until I locate the rod. There’s a small, barely visible scar at one end. I press the tip of my scalpel into her arm, nicking the marked skin.

“So I’ve heard,” she acknowledges before sucking in a breath and glaring at me. “Ouch. My arm is usually numbed before it’s sliced open.”

“You were occupied, so I took a chance. And I didn’t slice you open. I nicked you. It’s smaller than the scar.”

I clamp the end of the tube and make two quick cuts through the tissue holding the man-made material hostage inside her. When I pull it free, she shivers and pales.

“I felt that,” she mumbles, turning her head away from me. “Tell me when the blood is gone.”

“Do you want me to put a stitch in—”

“Hell no.” She glances at me, her horrified gaze making me chuckle. “That’s a terrible joke, Imy. I’d rather have the crab berry milk than stitches.”

Shyla grimaces. “That stuff feels like fire licking your veins.”

“It stings for a few minutes.”

She thinks she’s agreeing, but she doesn’t understand how it affects most Mongrels. Shyla gawks at her, shaking her head in disbelief. Not that Ada notices while she’s watching my every move.