Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Creed’s eyes rocket to mine, an expectancy of my objection that doesn’t follow. “I’ll have to figure out how to contact my father and make up an excuse for being gone that he will buy.”
Creed arches a brow at me in surprise.
“You gave up your blood,” I say softly. “I’ll give up my time.”
Understanding flashes in his face before he casts an accusing look at Katie, his tone gently chastising. “I see you’ve discussed my distaste for your needles.”
“It might have come up,” she confirms.
His expression darkens. “What’s happening to her, Doc?”
Katie’s gaze shifts between the two of us. “What’s supposed to happen. I think you both know that.” She lets her answer hang in the air a moment before she adds in her more official tone, “As for the biology of it all…well, we’ll see what the tests say. My non-scientific opinion is that as long as close proximity exists, I suspect your bodies will continue to try to complete what has started.”
“Which means being apart is the only way to stop it,” Creed assumes.
It isn’t a question but rather a statement, and I have the instant sense that it’s something he’s been thinking on his own. Of course, I have as well, but unbidden, those words rip through me and twist me in knots. There had been no goodbye last time we parted ways. He’d just disappeared. I can see the writing on the wall, and I’m just not sure how I endure that pain again.
“If it can be stopped,” Katie continues, tugging me out of the wildfire of my thoughts, “and I mean if, at this point, it may be too late, but I could be wrong. As I told Addie, this could be something as simple as hormonal fluctuations that fade when you two are apart. There certainly are scientific reasons we need to understand what’s happening. We need to know if bonding can take place without a blood transfer. We need to know what bonding ultimately means for the couple. We’ll try to find out everything we can as fast as we can.” She shoves her hands in her lab coat again. “I’ll go get the testing started for you, Creed, and then catch a few winks myself.” Her attention shifts to me. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. We can grab coffee between me poking and prodding you.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Well…the coffee part. Not the part where we become test subjects for the greater good.” I hold up my hand. “But I, of all people, understand why that’s necessary.”
“I’m sorry, Addie,” Katie offers. “I know it’s kind of sucky. Get some rest.”
A moment later, Katie departs, and I’m alone with Creed, my heart pitter-pattering against my ribs in a wild, bluesy kind of beat that says heartache is coming.
Creed rolls the chair around to face me. “Ready to get out of here?”
I’m not sure where this is headed, but I hope to find a place where I can rest. “Yes. I’m ready.”
He offers me his hand, and I tentatively settle my palm against his. Warmth spreads up my arm and across my chest. He opens his mouth as if he intends to say something but thinks better of it as his lips press firmly together. I don’t press him. Not here. Not now. I want to be alone with Creed. To be with him. God, how I want to be in his arms, more than I want my next breath.
For now, though, hand in hand, we walk through the sparsely populated hospital and exit a door to a narrow electronic conveyor that travels through a high cavern. Flickering fluorescent lights splay across the lower level from the ceilings and walls and seem to flow miles ahead.
At one point, we’re in the center of the walkway, and it feels like we’re on a deserted highway in a far-reaching, desolate mountainside. And I can feel the beat of Creed’s emotions and his pain. I halt and turn to him, and as if in reaction to my not-yet-asked question, he pulls me close, his big body pressing intimately to mine, his hands tangling gently in my hair, and his forehead pressed to mine.
“My mother,” he whispers. “My mother is what’s wrong. I confirmed she’s a part of all this.”
I pull back, the taut lines of his handsome face ripe with despair. I reach up and brush a wayward strand of his hair from his mud-streaked face. He hasn’t slept. He hasn’t even rested. I doubt he’s eaten. And he’s beat up, emotionally and physically. “Are you sure? Did you see her? Talk to her?”
He inhales a labored breath, and I settle my hand over his heart, feeling the pounding vibrate through my palm, my touch meant to soothe and support. Finally, air trickles from his lips, and he begrudgingly confirms, “I saw her. She lied and said she sold the Green Hornets to the military.” His hand covers mine over his heart. “I expected you to do what I didn’t do with her. Give up on your father. I knew what my mother was, but I still went there tonight wanting her to prove me wrong.”