Chapter 1
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Maddox Firesinger lived for moments like this.
The operating room was a sanctuary away from the chaos. In the emergency department, there was shouting, rushing, and the metallic tang of blood in the air. But here? Silence. No one breathed unless he did. No one moved unless he asked them to. Just the way he liked it.
Under the harsh surgical lights, the patient’s hand lay in ruin. Crushed bone, shredded tendons, and flesh torn apart by the brutal force of a factory press. Maddox was completely focused on that hand, the rest of the world falling away until there was nothing else. The hiss of oxygen and the slow beep of the monitor were all background noise. The only thing that mattered was the puzzle of bones and tendons in front of him.
“Retractor,” he murmured.
The nurse pressed the tool into his palm without hesitation. Maddox eased muscle aside, exposing frayed tendons. His silver eyes, unnaturally beautiful, studied the damage with unhurried patience. His gloved fingers moved with elegance and certainty, not like a surgeon dissecting a body, but like a craftsman restoring something precious. To him, this wasn’t gore; it was art.
He’d rebuilt countless hands over the years. Bones, ligaments, and fingers shattered beyond recognition were his specialty. His gift.
Fatigue pressed against him, but he ignored it. Hours meant nothing. Sleep meant nothing. What was exhaustion compared to the chance to pull a man’s future out of the wreckage? This—this was why he stayed. Why he returned shift after shift, year after year, when he could be back in his own realm.
Power hummed beneath his skin, the temptation sharp as a blade. One flicker of magic, and the bones would knit themselves, tendons fusing, skin sealing smooth. It would be faster. Cleaner. But it would also be reckless and dangerous. He could never allow himself that indulgence here. Not in the human realm. His magic was a secret, like his true face beneath the glamour.
So he worked the slow way. The human way. It was still satisfying.
Thread by thread, tendon by tendon, finger by finger. The ruined hand began to resemble a hand again, fragile and imperfect, but whole. No fingers lost. Or at least he didn’t think so. It would heal.
When the final stitch was tied, Maddox allowed himself a breath.
“Good work, Doctor Firesinger,” the nurse murmured as she began clearing the tray, the others in the room jumping into action to clean up the mess and take care of the patient.
He stripped off his gloves, flexing his stiff shoulders. He rotated his neck, stretching it out some. He needed more than a stretch; he needed sleep, but that would have to wait. His shift wasn’t over yet.
Maddox washed up, stretched again at the sink, then pushed through the doors into the hall. The fluorescent lights of the hospital felt too bright after the focused hush of the OR. He headed toward the staff lounge, craving caffeine more than sleep.
Fix. Breathe. Repeat. That was his rhythm.
Williamsport had been his home once. His hospital. For twenty-five years, he’d worked in the same hospital, building a reputation. But time caught up with him—his own immortality. He didn’t age. They did. He’d had to leave before the whispers began.
A year ago, he’d taken a job in Pittsburgh. New hospital, new staff, the same lies stitched neatly into his résumé, making him seem much younger than he truly was.
Trevor had seen to that, giving him a fresh start. The hospital was thrilled with his skill, saying he had natural talent. Perhaps he did, but he’d also been a doctor much longer than most of them. His experience wasn’t listed on his résumé. It couldn’t be.
He’d known going in that he’d have to prove himself, and he had. Over and over again, shocking the chief of orthopedic surgery with his skills. His first surgery had been a crushed hand, and the chief had been in there to assist, ready to step in and take over when he thought it necessary.
But the chief had never moved from his spot where he’d watched Maddox work. He’d been enthralled, shocked that a doctor who he thought had little experience was able to perform so well. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have more experience than I do,” he’d muttered under his breath, not intending for Maddox to hear him, but his supernatural hearing had caught the comment.
While the chief had never really sung his praises, he had sent every hand injury Maddox’s way. Maddox knew enough about a doctor’s ego to take that as a compliment.
He sipped his bitter coffee and replayed the surgery in his mind, going over each step the way he always did afterward, wondering if he should have done anything different. He didn’t think so. Not on this one.
“Where are you?”
Maddox looked up. Darius Remington leaned against the table, a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
“Going over the case,” Maddox said, standing to refill his cup.
“The crushed hand?” Darius asked, eyes still flicking over his phone.
“Yeah.” Maddox took a sip. Too hot. His tongue burned, but he let magic slide across the wound like cool water, soothing the sting.
“Textbook case?”
“Pretty much. I don’t think he’ll lose any fingers, but time will tell.”
They had known each other since medical school. They’d been roommates at first and were still friends. Darius had moved out of their dorm when he found his mate, but their bond had lasted. It helped that Darius wasn’t fully human either.
Maddox wore a glamour to hide his Fae features. Mostly his ears, but his face was unnaturally perfect and distracting, which made him roll his silver eyes.
Darius was part werewolf and part Fae. He needed no such disguise. He blended seamlessly, though his features were almost perfect, too, showcasing his Fae blood. Maddox had heard the whispers in the hospital about both of them more than once since they’d started at the hospital in Pittsburgh.
Darius, too, didn’t age, and he, too, had taken a new job at the new hospital.
Darius stood, stretching, and half the nurses in the room went silent to watch. Maddox snorted into his coffee.
“I’ve got surgery in twenty,” Darius said, clapping Maddox on the back before tossing his cup and heading out.
Maddox stayed seated, phone in hand. Unlike Darius, he had no mate waiting at home. No family. He’d given up looking, mostly. He knew she was out there somewhere, but he no longer searched. The waiting hurt less if he didn’t think about it.
The nurses’ whispers reached him even without trying.
“Would you want Dr. Firesinger or Dr. Remington?”
“Can I take both?” one of the girls teased, sending the table into giggles.
“Can you imagine?” another added, fanning herself with her hand.
“They’re the two hottest doctors here,” someone whispered.
“I know, right? The first time I was in surgery with Dr. Remington, I almost died,” one admitted, a little too breathlessly.
Maddox rolled his eyes. If only they knew Darius was mated with a teenage pup. As for him? Dating a colleague wasn’t even on his radar.
He stood, tossing his cup. He hadn’t been on a date in over a year and hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in even longer. And “serious” was debatable. He’d considered it serious when he’d seen her more than once. She hadn’t agreed and they hadn’t dated long.
He headed down the hall, not in a rush yet, but experience told him it wouldn’t be long before he was called for something. The hospital was unusually quiet tonight. Too quiet. Calm before the storm.
The pager buzzed at his hip. He grabbed it, reading the message. Consultation in Room 107. Maddox pulled out his tablet, skimming the case as he walked.
“Doctor?”
He stopped, frowning, as he looked around. The corridor was surprisingly empty.
“In here.”
The voice came from a dim room to his right, the TV casting an uneven glow. The voice was feminine and soft. She seemed almost hesitant.But his reaction to it, the way a shiver ran down his spine at the sound, was what caught his attention and made him wonder what he was about to step into.
Maddox hesitated only a moment before heading toward the door, his gaze darting up to the whiteboard outside. Zora Swan. He pushed it open and slipped inside, wondering what he was getting himself into.
