Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
According to the doctor, Elder’s zombieness was fairly common for someone who’d depleted themselves to the level he had.
Six hours of sleep for a healthy person meant they’d be ready for a brand-new day.
Six hours of sleep for a sick person meant nothing. His resting would be entirely reliant on how quickly he healed and how fast his body fought his fever.
The doctor’s final task was checking Elder hadn’t torn the tendon off his ankle bone and re-securing the leg brace.
Before he left, he reeled off warnings and caveats, telling me with harsh command that although Elder wouldn’t die and most likely wouldn’t suffer long-term ill effects, it was his medical recommendation that he go straight to a hospital when he woke and arrange X-rays on his ankle and a cat scan for his shoulder to pick up any areas that might cause future damage.
I nodded and agreed, shooing the doctor out, knowing exactly what Elder would say to those suggestions.
No fucking way…or something to that end.
I smiled, loving the sensation of knowing Elder enough to hopefully predict what he might do. If I could predict, I could challenge. And if I could challenge, I might even win a few arguments.
Today, though, I’d won the war on getting him to stay and was in charge of paying the invoice the doctor had assured would be sent by the end of the week.
I had responsibility.
People looked at me and listened to my instruction and believed I was normal enough to do things like pay bills and look after loved ones. That I had possessions like bank accounts and credit cards. That I hadn’t been a prisoner for two years and my entire future hinged on the man passed out with blood staining the sheets beneath him.
I was his guardian angel now, and I wouldn’t rest until he was healed.
* * * * *
I lost track of time.
I didn’t care if it was morning or evening, day or night.
Suzette brought food in at random intervals, I helped a groggy Elder somehow crawl from the bed to the bathroom before passing out again, and Tess popped by to see how the invalid was doing.
We chatted a little, but the exhaustion that clutched Elder finally found me, and I dozed beside him with my knees pressed against his thigh and my arm thrown lightly over his chest.
I probably shouldn’t touch him in case I hurt him, but I needed to touch him. I needed to sleep with his heat and bulk in my arms; otherwise, nightmares of him being shot and falling overboard tortured me on repeat.
Again and again, I heard the boom and splash. Smelled the sulphur and salt.
I clutched Elder harder.
* * * * *
Sometime later—who knew exactly how much later—while the sky inked black and the house hushed quiet, Elder finally mumbled something and flinched.
I shot upright, blinking away sleep, begging him to open his eyes. He’d woken a few times before—sometimes for a bathroom break and others while still in a dream—but each time, he’d not quite returned to me.
This time seemed different. His natural awareness and readiness to fight filled his body before his eyes cracked open.
Slowly this time, no longer unfocused and dazed but suspicious and lethal. His dark eyelashes feathered in the gloom.
I didn’t speak while he glanced around, studying, assessing. The tautness in his shoulders said he remembered our last conversation and most likely our kiss.
Does he remember passing out?
“Fuck…” he groaned, squeezing his eyes and shaking his head. “Did I really faint while kissing you?”
I laughed softly, glad to hear strength in his voice even if it was soft with sleep and rough with injury. “You did.”
“I’m an ass.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m not sick.” Raising his hand off the sheets, he squinted dangerously at the needle piercing his skin. “Who the hell put that in?”
I wished I could tell him Michaels did—at least he knew him and had some element of trust. I didn’t even know Q’s doctor’s name. “The Mercer family doctor came. When you passed out mid-kiss, I thought it best to get a professional.”
Grumbling under his breath, he dropped his hand. “I bet that bastard had a great time gloating about putting me in the infirmary.”
“It wasn’t like that, and you know it.”
He sighed. “I’m assuming I haven’t been out for ten minutes, either?” Glancing at the sky, he glowered at the fresh moon slightly thicker in crescent than the day before. “Shit.”
“A little longer than that, I’m afraid.” Swinging my legs off the bed and standing, I stretched out the kinks from sleeping stiff beside a healing patient. “I sort of lost track of time.” Looking back at him, I did my best to hide my wince.
He looks awful.
Somewhere along the way of battling and now, Elder had lost the strict rigidity he always carried in his spine. He’d given in to the bed’s embrace, collapsing into pillows, looking tamed and not at all happy about it.