Page 86 of Beautiful Prey

He’s not moving.

He’s not moving.

I’m at the bedside in three strides, dropping to my knees beside him. I hold my hand near his mouth and wait the way I have a hundred nights before, hating that I ever had to learn how.

His breath is warm and even against my palm.

Sinking the rest of the way to the floor, I press my forehead to the edge of the mattress and breathe in sync with him until my heart climbs back down out of my throat.

“JaJa?” His voice is thick with sleep. A clumsy hand finds my hair and strokes through it. “S’wrong?”

“Nothing.” My voice comes out hoarse. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“You’re doing the thing.” His eyes crack open, finding me on the floor. “The breathing thing. Checking on me.” A sleepy smile tugs at his mouth. “’M fine, Jade. I slept. I actually slept. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks. The bed’s got this... thing. It does something with the temperature. And the air in here’s clean. No dust.” His eyes drift shut again. “Woke up once and didn’t even cough.”

Didn’t even cough.

I hold my brother’s hand on the floor of a stranger’s penthouse as he falls back asleep, breathing easier than I’ve heard him in a year. Because this is the thing I couldn’t give him. My whole life I’ve tried. Every shift since I was old enough to work. Every skipped meal. Every spare credit. And I still couldn’t give him one night without the cough.

A man who did it without trying is asleep six doors away, with my nails in his shoulders and his mouth down my throat. I’ve lost track of which marks belong to whom.

I stay until I’m sure, then tug the blanket higher and go looking for coffee, clothes, or my own damn spine, whichever turns up first.

The bedroom door stands open as I pass by. The bed is empty, the sheets thrown back, and somewhere beyond it, water is running.

In the dressing room, a pair of soft, dark trousers and two shirts, one charcoal and one deep green, lie over a chair. Everything is my size.

I rummage for the rest of my clothes, my shirt, shoes, and jacket, but they’re gone. Taken to be cleaned, or taken to be gone. Probably just thrown out, the asshole.

I grind my teeth. I’d rather wear last night’s pants and my own skin than let him dress me like a doll.

Then voices carry in from the penthouse.

“You know he’s going to murder you for that.”

Ryven laughs. “Worth it.”

Someone snorts as plates hit the table. “That’s what you said last time.”

The thought of walking out there bare-chested, with Asher’s marks dark on my throat, is worse than wearing what he chose for me.

Grinding my teeth, I pull on the dark trousers and grab the green shirt. Both fit perfectly, hugging my body in a way my work clothes never do. I hate that he knew my size. I hate even more that I’m standing here in his clothes because being seen half-naked and marked by him feels worse.

So I button the shirt and try not to think about what that says.

Awhile later, I find Asher in the kitchen, showered and dressed, far too handsome for the monster he is. I stand across from him in the clothes he picked out, nursing coffee I don’t remember making.

“Did you go see your brother?” His eyes stay on me. “How is he?”

“He slept.” I take another drink and immediately regret giving him even that much. “Apparently better than he has in weeks.”

“Good.” He crosses to the counter and pours himself coffee without looking at what his hands are doing, his eyes still on me. “The air handling in the guest suite is medical-grade. I had the settings matched to a graylung protocol.” He lifts the cup and drinks. “And I cleared the arrears while I was at it. The mine debt. The clinic account. The back rent Vasco was using to keep you on a leash. All of it came with the company, so consider it my mess to tidy. And I did.”

The coffee goes to ash in my mouth. “You did what?”

“I cleared it.” He glances at me over the rim of the cup. “You don’t owe anyone on this planet a single credit anymore. I’d have thought that was good news.”

“You—” I set my cup down before I throw it. “You went into my life. My debts. My brother’s account. And you just... rearranged everything without asking me.”