“Smells terrible in here. What is that?” Cain followed him but didn’t seem to be in a particularly loquacious mood, so Sheridan spoke up. “Salve. For bruises.” “Where’d you get it?” “Cain made it for his clinic, I think.” Cain didn’t confirm her answer or offer an alternative. He obviously wasn’t interested in making Ned feel comfortable. “If the smell’s too strong, you’re welcome to come back another time,” she said and prayed Ned would give her a brief reprieve. She was still jittery from the hormones that had flooded her system only seconds before he arrived. “No. Let’s get this over with.” He looked around for a seat and pulled over the one Cain had used when he fed her. The padding flattened as he sank into it. Then he looked back at Cain, who stood resolutely at the door, like some kind of gatekeeper. “Could we have a few minutes alone?” “No,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Ned’s frown said he wasn’t pleased by this response, but Cain set his jaw, making it clear he wouldn’t change his mind.
