Dexmon's eyes snapped open.
His body had been running threat detection in his sleep, his awareness returning with the violent immediacy of a soldier waking up in a combat zone. He blinked. Once. Twice. Reorienting. Processing the room, the light, the man standing over the bed.
"She hasn't woken up yet," Elara answered as she walked past him into the bathing chamber. She returned with a damp cloth, and placed it across Serena's forehead.
"And no one thought to notify me," Fin snapped.
The sentence hit the room like a slap and Fin heard it leave his mouth and knew, immediately, that it was the wrong goddamn thing to say. His anger had been aimed at his mate and was now pivoting, fast, towards every person who had been in this room while he was across the continent assuming she was avoiding him when she was actually fighting a fever.
Dexmon looked up at him.
"No, I'm sorry Finnick. We've been in here and I should have sent word."
