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She remembered the wound on his arm. "You have a fever?"

His wound had torn open yesterday, and she'd tended to it. A whole day without food or water, and no fresh dressing—of course he'd run a fever.

Xavier Grayson's gaze was cold enough to freeze her solid. "I said get out."

She could feel how fiercely he rejected anyone coming near him right now—like a wounded hedgehog