Liam kept his eyes closed, his face buried in the crook of Arik's neck. He was exhausted, his throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sand, and his dignity was currently in tatters.
Worse, Arik knew.
The bond remained open between them, not wide enough for full emotion to bleed through without shape, but open enough that Liam could feel Arik holding himself together with the same ruthless discipline he used to tear enemies apart.
It was deeply irritating.
Also warm.
Also useful.
Liam decided to hate all of that later, when his lungs stopped behaving like a poorly maintained pressure system.
Marin moved beside them with brisk, unforgiving efficiency, already charging another injector from the second vial. The first antidote had burned the poison out. This one looked calmer, a pale blue-gold liquid that shimmered faintly in the small chamber of the autoinjector.
Liam opened one eye.
"No."
Marin did not even look at him. "Yes."
"I just survived one."
