Free The Last Twilight by Marjorie M. Liu

is.”
    She knew. She had made her career on taking blood from the infected, hunting live viruses. But she had never bullied her patients. Never forced anyone to take the needle.
    Rikki looked at Amiri. He met her gaze, and it was like electricity—some live current, hot in her blood. She had never met a man who was so confident, so quietly self-assured, and it had nothing to do with excess; not even a hint of arrogance. This was a man who could handle things. Handle anything. And he knew it. He knew the cost of it.
    Just like Rikki did.
    It would take a fight to make him give blood. It would take more than Ruth and Mack. More than the peacekeepers patrolling this camp. Rikki had a feeling there was not a force on earth that could make this man take part in anything— anything —that he did not want to do. God help anyone stupid enough to try.
    Rikki was not stupid. And even though she knew she should be frightened by the hard coolness of his gaze, she was not. She felt like she stood in the eye of the storm— his eye, his storm. Safe. Untouched. Hidden in plain sight.
    I am buying you time, Amiri’s voice echoed in her mind. I will make certain no one sees you.
    They might as well have swapped blood—his gift was as strong a bond. And whatever his reasons might be, the least Rikki could do was show him the same courtesy. She had no choice.
    “There are alternatives,” she told Mack, and held up her hand against his protest. “Do a spot check with his saliva. The virus will be present there. Hell, do the same with me.”
    “They won’t be as thorough.”
    “But you’ll know for certain. We all will.”
    He stared at her like she was crazy, and she was—it was bad science, against protocol, her own rules—but Rikki stared him down, unwilling to bend. Unwilling to contemplate how and why she could take a stranger’s side over Mack.
    He almost didn’t back down. She could see it in his eyes. But after a long silence, cut with the fidgeting squeak of Ruth’s heavy breathing, Mack leaned down to scoop up the dropped needle. He tossed it into the infectious materials bin with enough force to make the plastic rattle.
    “Careful,’” Rikki said, unable to help herself. “You might take an eye out.”
    Mack shot her a glare. Ruth also gave Rikki a dirty look. Amiri did neither, nor did he smile. Instead his gaze turned thoughtful, his skin crinkling, just slightly, around his eyes. Warm, so warm. Looking at him was like finding kindness, and that was as unexpected as the rough way Mack suddenly grabbed her arm, fingers clamping down too tight for comfort.
    You don ‘t have anything to prove, Rikki told him silently, but he was already tapping out her vein, and she forced herself not to protest as he jabbed the syringe so hard into her arm she imagined it hit bone. Hurt like hell, but she kept her mouth shut. Gave Mack a piercing look. He raised his eyebrow. Daring her. Rikki did not take the bait.
    “Ruth, get that man’s saliva.” He raised his brow at Amiri. “You won’t resist, will you?”
    “This is more acceptable,” he replied. No warmth in his eyes for the doctor; quite the opposite, if Rikki was any judge. He spat into a vial for Ruth.
    Mack rolled his eyes. “There’s an anxious young man who wants to see you. Would you like me to pass along a message?” Each word was clipped, forced.
    “Vigilance,” Amiri said.
    Mack gave him a long look, but made no comment. He withdrew the needle from Rikki’s arm and swabbed her skin with alcohol. Said, quietly: “Neither of you are displaying symptoms. That’s some reassurance.”
    Rikki glanced at Amiri. “Anyone else sick?”
    Mack hesitated, also taking a quick look at the man. “Maybe we should discuss this later. There are…confidentiality issues.”
    Amiri arched his brow. “Shall I go stand in the corner? Plug my ears with my fingers?”
    Rikki tried not to smile. “Spill it, Mack. Or else there might not be a later.”
    Mack briefly