It was pathetic how quickly he’d done it.

Then suddenly, Zan let up, loosened his hold. Distracted by the relief of being able to straighten, thinking their bout was over, Jax was taken completely by surprise when Zan delivered a swift kick to his injured leg.

“Aaah, fuuuuck!” he yelled, agony sweeping through his muscles like a blowtorch. The leg buckled and he went down hard, the thick gym mat cushioning his fall. To his shame, he could do nothing but writhe on the mat, breathing hard and pounding his fist, riding out the waves of sickness rising in his throat.

“Hey, low blow!” Aric shouted. Jax was barely aware of the redhead leaping from his spot on the bleachers and jogging over to shove Zan. “What the hell, asshole?”

Zan ignored him and raised his thumb and forefinger as though shooting a gun aimed between Jaxon’s eyes. “And boom, you’re dead.”

Aric shoved Zan again and got right in his face. “I’m talkin’ to you, needledick. What gives with that bullshit? You’re supposed to be his best bud, and you put him on the ground like a fuckin’ dog!”

Jaxon wasn’t sure what amazed him more—Zan doing just what Aric said, or Aric leaping to Jaxon’s defense. Wasn’t it just this morning that he’d taken a chunk out of the red wolf for getting too cozy with Kira? And here the man was, ready to do the same to Zan for delivering the cheap shot.

The two men glared at each other as Zan replied. “What do you think a demon would do in battle? Or someone with a gun? Apologize and offer to kiss his boo-boos? Get a grip, man. We can’t help him improve his skills by coddling him.”

Aric’s lip curled. “But you’re not the enemy, you prick. He can’t get better with you whacking away at the damage.”

“I disagree.”

“Why don’t ya take a shot at someone who can whoop your ass?”

Jesus. Sitting up with a grimace, Jax reached out and tapped Aric’s calf. “At ease, soldier. He’s right. Help me up, would you?”

The pair stared each other down a few seconds longer. Aric relented first and reached to lend him a hand. Zan grabbed the other and together they hauled him to his feet. Another bolt of pain rocketed through the complaining limb, but he managed to steady himself by briefly holding on to Zan’s shoulder.

At their questioning looks, he nodded. “I’m good. Gonna go grab a shower and see Melina before lunch.”

“Christ, Jax, did I hurt you that bad?” Zan asked, eyes wide. “God, I’m sorry!”

“No,” he said with a short, humorless laugh. “Something else entirely.”

“What’s going on?” This from Aric, who was frowning in concern. “You sick?”

“Don’t think so.” He paused. “Not sure. I’ve got this burning itch—”

“Eewww.” Zan gave him a teasing grin. “Thought we couldn’t get those kinds of diseases anymore.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. It’s not that sort of itch; it’s all over, just under my skin. No rash or anything, but it’s driving me insane.” Especially when she’s around, and then I have the unbearable urge to bite her. But he refrained from telling them that part.

Zan pushed a hand through his black hair. “Huh. Well, if anyone can figure it out, Melina can. Let us know you’re okay after you talk to her.”

“You bet. Walk me out?”

He didn’t really need any help, but he wasn’t about to leave them there alone to possibly get into another argument. Aric’s combustible temper was going to be his downfall someday.

In the hallway, at the junction leading to his quarters, however, he had no option but to leave them to their own devices as they headed toward the rec room. At least they both seemed calm now. They could handle their difference of opinion like adults. He hoped.

In his bedroom, he stripped and showered without rushing, letting the hot water cascade over his aching muscles. Bracing his hands against the tile, he hung his head and fought back the feelings of worthlessness threatening to take over. He was no good to his team in this condition, but Nick had stood firm against him quitting Alpha Pack. God knows why.

The boss had his reasons and Jaxon was sure he didn’t want to be privy to them.

A small, insistent voice in his brain reminded him that he’d handled the bastards attacking Kira just fine. In wolf form, he wasn’t weak. Wasn’t less. But how could she, or any woman, love the beast as well as the man?

That brought his head up, eyes wide. Love?

No. Uh-uh. Not now or ever.

Lust? Bring it on.

And Kira was too good to be used that way. Her soft little heart would get broken in nothing flat, hanging with the likes of him. She deserved better.

The goddamned itching returned at that very moment, seizing him with a vengeance. Arms, legs, and torso, he inspected every inch, and nothing. Groaning, he scratched like a madman, only to learn that made it a million times worse, and inflamed the burning sensation. Yet his skin was totally unblemished.

“Son of a bitch!”

Smacking the nozzle to shut off the water, he flung open the glass door and stepped onto the rug. Then he grabbed the towel hanging on the nearby bar and dried off, and hurried to the bedroom to put on fresh jeans and a T-shirt that declared THE HEAT I’M PACKING IS JUSTIFIED without really paying attention to what he’d picked.

Then he studied himself in the mirror, wondering if he should change the shirt.

He grinned. Nah.

His good humor was short-lived as he limped toward Melina’s office. He probably should’ve called first, but he was in too damned big a hurry to stop. Didn’t make a difference whether she was busy or not, he had to see her and get something to stop the itching before he lost what was left of his mind.

Hobbling into the reception area, he saw Kira sitting in a chair flipping through a magazine, but paused only long enough to bark at the young female receptionist, “Is Dr. Mallory back there?”

“Yes, but—Wait! She’s with a patient!”

Tough shit. He was dying. Rushing to her office, he found the door standing open, the space empty. She must be in one of the exam rooms, then. Going from room to room, he had the presence of mind to knock before pushing open the doors. In the fourth one, he found the doc standing next to the Fae prince, who was sitting on an exam table. The white paper underneath him crinkled as he peered around the doc at Jaxon.

His movement alerted Melina, who was holding a cotton ball tightly to the bend at his elbow. Glancing over her shoulder at Jaxon, she shot him a look of annoyance and then turned back to her patient.

“I’m going to put a Band-Aid over this. Leave it on a while, until the bleeding stops.”

“All right.” The prince gave her a smile. “That wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.”

“Usually isn’t.” Jaxon watched in amazement as she beamed at the man in return.

There was still a warm, fuzzy woman under those cactus spines after all. Who knew? He waited patiently as she patted Sariel on the arm in a comforting gesture and then collected a vial of sapphire blue liquid from the nearby counter.

“Is that his blood?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Is this a social call or are you having a problem?”

“A problem.”

“Wait in exam room two while I finish.” She pointed the way in curt dismissal.

She was pissed, but he was too damned miserable to care. He walked two doors down and paced the empty room, listening to their conversation as she concluded business with her patient. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but even with the carpeting, the acoustics afforded him every word.

“Okay, I’m going to run a few more tests that I haven’t yet done on you, mostly for research, to study and record how the system of a Fae male works. How it compares with the humans and shifters.”

“All right.”

“However, some of them are going to tell me what I already know. Such as the fact that you’ve lost too much weight. You’ve got to start eating, even if you don’t want to, in order to get back your energy and regain your health.”