| |
A cramp pulled me from the dark and I curled my knees to my chest, moaning my discontent. Coolness wiped across my forehead and I opened my eyes. Damian’s gaze met mine and he offered me a grimace that was meant as a smile.
“Am I dying?” I whispered.
The slow shake of his head along with the sadness in his eyes brought me further awake and I glanced at the familiar surroundings of our mountain home.
“What happened?”
He continued to stroke my forehead with a damp cloth, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze.
Before I could press further, heat burned through my skin and I screamed, tightening into a compact ball. Drawing a breath seemed like an impossible feat and I clamped my eyes shut, turning my face into the pillow and away from Damian’s pained gaze.
Finally, my chest eased and I drew in a breath, and then another, concentrating on this one thing and tuning out the agony wrestling my muscles.
“Damian, what happened?” I turned, taking in his bright blue eyes once again.
“Lilith shot you with the antidote,” he said and picked up a cup from the nightstand. He lifted my head, tilting the glass to my lips.
Cold water flowed over my tongue, quenching the dryness I hadn’t noticed until then. I grabbed his wrist and drank, trying to tip the cup further, but he stopped me.
“You need to go easy,” he said, pulling the glass away and putting it on the table.
I stared at him, at the conflict in his features and when he popped a thermometer in my mouth, my eyebrows rose.
“You’ve been running a fever,” he said and the thermometer beeped. He pulled it out and checked the reading. The subtle close of his eyes and sigh that escaped gave me an indication of relief and when he brought his gaze back to mine, I knew. Damian’s relief washed over me like soft subtle waves.
“How long have I been like this?”
“A week.”
His answer gave me a start and I attempted to sit up, but he pushed me back onto the bed.
“You’re still sick,” he said showing me the readout.
“It’s only a hundred and one,” I said and shifted, stretching out of the ball I’d remained curled in. The pressure in my lower abdomen surprised me. “Besides, I think I have to go to the bathroom,” I said and did my best to sit up.”
The room spun and he threw the covers back, reaching to pick me up.
“I can do this on my own,” I said, knocking his hands away.
Damian stood and waved toward the bathroom. Irritation transforming the worry into a hard stare.
I stumbled into the bathroom on wobbly, weak legs and took a seat on the commode. The unfamiliar burn of urine passed and I closed my eyes. This was one of the human elements that I had not missed and I had laughed at Damian for putting a toilet in when neither of us needed one. Now, I was glad to have the convenience. I finished and slowly got to my feet, shuffling to the mirror.
The reflection showed a sickly pale face with dark circles encasing my deep brown eyes. My hair lay in a stringy matted mess that made me cringe. A shower, that’s what I needed and I turned, twisting the nozzles until steam filled the small space. With a great deal of effort, I stripped the stained and soiled night-shirt off and stepped under the stream of water.
I exhaled and closed my eyes, letting the water cascade down my skin. The effort of just standing there sucked whatever energy I had right from my bones and I reached for the wall. His soft hand took mine instead. I opened my eyes and stared at his fully dressed and soaking form, a chill blanketed me and I cocked my head, too tired to articulate.
Instead of explaining why he was standing in the shower fully dressed, he reached for the shampoo and poured some in his hand. The silence unnerved me just as much as the torture in his gaze. He lathered up my hair, running his fingers through my locks in slow patterns and I succumbed to his pampering, letting him clean me from head to toe without the usual sexual foreplay.
When I was squeaky clean, he pulled me into his arms and just held me, pressing his lips to the top of my head. It was only after dozing off in his arms did his tremors break through my hazy brain. I pushed away and looked into his eyes.
Tears slowly traced down his cheeks.
His tears sent my heart into overdrive and vaporized the fog surrounding me.
“What is it?”
His hand came to rest on my cheek and the depth of his agony ripped at my soul, leaving it in tatters.
“I gave Lilith the chance to explain what she meant by toxic before I ripped her to pieces.” He reached and turned off the water.
I wasn’t sure I had the strength for an explanation, but after he tucked me in a towel and sat me down on the toilet lid without any further words, I cleared my throat. Damian turned toward me, his fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt and he shrugged.
“Bullshit,” I whispered with the first bite of anger. He was completely avoiding the subject. “Tell me what it means,” I said, my voice sounding much stronger.
“You know what toxic means,” he said, nearly ripping the dripping shirt off his well defined chest. His pants came next and he hung them over the side of the shower before reaching for a towel and meeting my gaze.
“My blood is poison to you.”
He let out that sarcastic laugh that set my nerves on edge. “God, if only it was that simple.” A sheen of tears covered his blue eyes and he inhaled. “It isn’t just your blood that could kill me,” he whispered and stepped closer, stopping in the middle of the floor.
A low growl came from my stomach, settling over the silence of the room.
“I stocked the kitchen,” he said in response but I was still staring at him, trying to figure out the meaning of his words.
I blinked a couple of times and studied the distance between us, the dripping clothing over the shower and then my gaze shot to his. Understanding crushed my heart to bits. “You mean...I’m your kryptonite?” The words rushed out in a gasp.
His chin dropped to his chest and he turned, walking out of the bathroom with his shoulders sagging.
“Damian,” I whispered and he stopped in the doorway without turning.
“I need to make you something to eat,” he said.
“Look at me.”
He spun, gripping the doorway with both hands and his gaze locked with mine.
“Is being near me...” My throat tightened, cutting off my voice, and I pressed my lips together. He held my gaze and kept silent. I swallowed and pushed the word out. “Painful?”
He shook his head. “No, baby, being near you isn’t.”
“But?”
“But touching you burns like you’re made of platinum,” he said and walked away.
I glanced at the dripping clothing and they blurred through my fresh tears.