so groggy that when her eyes did finally open, it took a few seconds for the world around her to come into view. When everything was still blurry, she tried to sit up, but the pain in her shoulder halted any progress.
Shit. What happened?
She tried to move her left arm, to get a sense of the source of the pain, but even the slightest movement set off a wave of nausea and a throbbing like she’d never felt before.
Her eyes opened. The stark, white walls greeted her, and she was afraid for a second that she had died and gone to some sterilized version of hell. She smelled the ammonia of the afterlife, and the bile rose in her throat again at the unnaturally clean scent. Why did people seem to think that such a strong chemical smell equaled clean and germ free?
“Easy, there.” Strong hands were on her, steadying her, and Kenyon’s scent surrounded her.
“Where am I?” Her voice was weak, and she realized she was thirsty and her throat was dry.
“Hospital. Well, medical clinic to be exact. Don’t try to sit up. If you want to sit, I can raise the bed for you.” The grave tone of his voice worried her. She had never heard him sound so serious, his voice so hollow. “You’re going to be fine, but you’ve got an infection, so that’s why you’re hooked up.”
Kenyon pointed to the IV line running into her arm, something she hadn’t even noticed until now. She pressed her lips together tightly. “Can I have some water?” she finally asked.
“You scared the hell out of me, you know?” He reached for a pitcher and poured a glass of water, then handed it to her.
“Scared the hell out of myself. What happened?” She drank the cool liquid, feeling it all the way down to her toes.
“You’ve got a pretty good gash in your shoulder, which is why it’s stabilized. No broken bones, but every time you move, it reopens the wound. We’ve stitched you up three times.”
What kind of wound would keep reopening like that? It took a few seconds for her to put everything together. The tigers. That feeling of something standing on her chest. The heat that coursed through her body and erupted into mind numbing pain. She had been bitten. Knowing the way tigers killed their prey, it was probably aiming for her throat but satisfied itself with her shoulder. “What happened?” She emptied the water and held out the glass, indicating another one.
As Kenyon poured the second glass, she noticed how drawn his face looked, how his eyes were dark and heavy, how new lines marred his skin. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to brush away the errant strands of hair which never seemed to stay pulled back, to erase the misery he so clearly wore. His left wrist was covered with gauze and medical tape and it took a second to register that her left wrist was also covered. Their tattoos. The mark they had been given in their sixteenth year. The thing that proclaimed their bond. What had happened to the tattoos?
“In all the chaos, Nik became confused and scratched you.”
“Doesn’t feel like a scratch.” She drained the second glass of water and wished she hadn’t. Her stomach twisted into a knot. “And what about my wrist? What about your wrist? What happened out there?”
“You have to take it easy. You’ve been sedated. The medication will sometimes do that to you.”
She waved off his attempts to coddle her. “Sedated? For how long?”
“Three days. Time enough to let your shoulder rest and get the antibiotics into you. You still need at least two more days on heavy meds before you can be switched to an oral.” His words were so clinical, his mouth so tight as he spoke, she knew there was more going on than what he’d told her. Three days? Had he been here the whole time?
“Yes,” he answered as if he had heard her thoughts. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Why?”
“If you have to ask that, then I obviously made the wrong decision.” This was not the same man who had confessed his love to
Shit. What happened?
She tried to move her left arm, to get a sense of the source of the pain, but even the slightest movement set off a wave of nausea and a throbbing like she’d never felt before.
Her eyes opened. The stark, white walls greeted her, and she was afraid for a second that she had died and gone to some sterilized version of hell. She smelled the ammonia of the afterlife, and the bile rose in her throat again at the unnaturally clean scent. Why did people seem to think that such a strong chemical smell equaled clean and germ free?
“Easy, there.” Strong hands were on her, steadying her, and Kenyon’s scent surrounded her.
“Where am I?” Her voice was weak, and she realized she was thirsty and her throat was dry.
“Hospital. Well, medical clinic to be exact. Don’t try to sit up. If you want to sit, I can raise the bed for you.” The grave tone of his voice worried her. She had never heard him sound so serious, his voice so hollow. “You’re going to be fine, but you’ve got an infection, so that’s why you’re hooked up.”
Kenyon pointed to the IV line running into her arm, something she hadn’t even noticed until now. She pressed her lips together tightly. “Can I have some water?” she finally asked.
“You scared the hell out of me, you know?” He reached for a pitcher and poured a glass of water, then handed it to her.
“Scared the hell out of myself. What happened?” She drank the cool liquid, feeling it all the way down to her toes.
“You’ve got a pretty good gash in your shoulder, which is why it’s stabilized. No broken bones, but every time you move, it reopens the wound. We’ve stitched you up three times.”
What kind of wound would keep reopening like that? It took a few seconds for her to put everything together. The tigers. That feeling of something standing on her chest. The heat that coursed through her body and erupted into mind numbing pain. She had been bitten. Knowing the way tigers killed their prey, it was probably aiming for her throat but satisfied itself with her shoulder. “What happened?” She emptied the water and held out the glass, indicating another one.
As Kenyon poured the second glass, she noticed how drawn his face looked, how his eyes were dark and heavy, how new lines marred his skin. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to brush away the errant strands of hair which never seemed to stay pulled back, to erase the misery he so clearly wore. His left wrist was covered with gauze and medical tape and it took a second to register that her left wrist was also covered. Their tattoos. The mark they had been given in their sixteenth year. The thing that proclaimed their bond. What had happened to the tattoos?
“In all the chaos, Nik became confused and scratched you.”
“Doesn’t feel like a scratch.” She drained the second glass of water and wished she hadn’t. Her stomach twisted into a knot. “And what about my wrist? What about your wrist? What happened out there?”
“You have to take it easy. You’ve been sedated. The medication will sometimes do that to you.”
She waved off his attempts to coddle her. “Sedated? For how long?”
“Three days. Time enough to let your shoulder rest and get the antibiotics into you. You still need at least two more days on heavy meds before you can be switched to an oral.” His words were so clinical, his mouth so tight as he spoke, she knew there was more going on than what he’d told her. Three days? Had he been here the whole time?
“Yes,” he answered as if he had heard her thoughts. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Why?”
“If you have to ask that, then I obviously made the wrong decision.” This was not the same man who had confessed his love to
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