Arik looked at him.
The heat in his gaze made Liam's thoughts scatter for one humiliating second.
Then Arik said, very quietly, "Wanting too much while you are still recovering."
The room went still.
Liam looked down first.
His anger softened at the edges, not gone, not forgiven, but struck by the awful tenderness of Arik burning himself down for fear of asking too much from him.
"You idiot," Liam whispered and handed him the syringe.
Arik took it, removed the seal with steady fingers that only trembled at the end, and pressed it against the inside of his arm. The ward on the syringe flared once, reading his pulse, ether density, hormonal surge, and whatever else Marin had decided to monitor with tyrannical thoroughness.
Before he pushed the dose in, Liam said, "What if you didn't?"
Arik stopped.
His eyes lifted.
Liam's face had gone very red, which he chose to blame on Arik's body temperature and absolutely nothing else.
