Eventually, in a quiet, dangerous tone, Flanagan says, “I want Belanger arrested. As soon as he recovers, I want him in a cell. Along with those fool Shifters who follow him.”

Seonu pauses before answering, “They’re in bad shape, sir.”

“They look like they’ve aged,” Laasya adds.

“Aged?” I can hear Flanagan’s frown in his tone.

“Yes, sir. Their hair has turned gray, and their faces are wrinkled like old men.”

“You’d have to see them to understand what we mean,” Seonu says.

Flanagan nods. “I will. I need to see to Michael first. Put a guard on their beds. They go nowhere without an escort. I don’t care how hurt they are, transfer them to lockup as soon as they recover. And find me another key to these manacles.”

“Yes, sir,” Seonu says.

“You’re both dismissed. Put your team on the door. Nobody comes in until I leave.”

Seonu asks, “Do you want me to inform Councilor Belanger, sir?”

“I wouldn’t subject you to her wrath. I’ll contact her myself after I’ve been to the infirmary.”

The two women leave, locking the double doors behind them.

When we’re alone, Flanagan places a hand on either side of my head and raises my face again. He strokes my cheekbones with his thumbs as the fire in his pale gaze softens to a gentle heat.

“Michael, I need to Ground you. This requires skin-to-skin contact. Do you understand?”

I nod. If it means touch and getting rid of this burning, I’m up for anything.

“Nothing will happen that you don’t want,” he continues. “But you’re holding an enormous amount of Flame. It’s too much for you. I need to Ground the energy from your body before your nervous system crashes. Do I have your permission?”

Permission? I’m not sure I have a choice. I need Grounding—skin to skin or not. I can’t take much more of this hot pressure threatening to explode my insides, and I want his touch so badly, I ache for it.

“Yeah.” I nearly add please but clip it. I might need him, but I’m still angry.

Flanagan picks up the bottle of water from the floor and raises it to my lips. “Drink first.”

He supports my head while I guzzle down every drop, the cool liquid a balm to my dry throat. Once done, he discards the empty bottle and unties the shoulder straps of his vest. He lifts the hard leather over his head and drops it to the floor. I watch with open hunger as the action reveals his glorious torso. Like a man starved, my gaze slides over every perfect contour: the defined eight-pack, the wide pecs dusted with fine hair, the broad muscled shoulders and rippling arms. The golden skin. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I want to eat him.