I closed my eyes as a shiver snaked down my frame. Then I told him the truth. “I don’t feel so good.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
“What’s wrong with you?” a familiar, rich voice asked as I cracked my eyes open.
I moaned. Oh shit. Had someone beat me up and then run me over with a Humvee while I’d been sleeping?
I tried to take a breath, instantly realizing just how hard that was. If I’d thought I’d felt like hell before, it was nothing compared to right then. It was like something heavy was sitting on my chest. My mouth was dry, and my head was still pounding as hard as ever. Basically, I felt like fucking shit as my eyes focused on the face peering down at me.
I recognized it, but it still managed to look different.
It was a smooth face with golden tan skin, beautiful and dewy; elegant features were framed by brown hair that hit almost at a jawline that would make a sculptor cry. But it was the roundish-shaped eyes that I focused on next, with their dark purple irises framed by thick, black lashes.
They were glowing.
I shivered.
I tried to swallow, but that was even more painful than before. My head. How was it possible to be this nauseous too? I moaned.
“What’s wrong with you?” the beautiful man looking at me demanded. “Are you sick?” he asked in what sounded an awful lot like disgust.
I raised my hand and moaned more before touching my forehead. “You haven’t brushed your teeth in I don’t know how long, back up,” I managed to whisper, annoyed with him for being irritated with me while I already felt like poo. The truth was, I couldn’t really smell his breath, but that was my secret. He wasn’t going to be the only one to talk trash, even if I felt like a steaming pile of it.
The familiar-unfamiliar face dropped closer to mine, giving me a good view of those definitely familiar eyes and that scowl I’d seen way too much of. His dark eyebrows were knitted together. “Why?” he asked almost cautiously.
Why was I sick?
Closing an eye, I tried to think, but all I could do was stare at his smooth skin. It was the stuff Photoshop and beauty product commercials tried their hardest to emulate.
“Because I am,” I whispered. “And lower your voice, my head hurts.” I wanted to throw up, but I kept that to myself. No need to remind him of what I’d done with my fingers.
He growled so loud, I felt it in my bones and temples.
“Please?” I tried.
That only earned me another growl that might have been slightly quieter. Or it might have been my imagination. “Your body temperature is higher than it should be,” he told me in that bossy britches voice.
“Wow, you’re a breathing thermometer.”
He blinked.
And it made me feel bad. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “I feel like shit, and I’m grouchy.”
Curly eyelashes fell over those glowing, amazing eyes.
I winced through a swallow. My hands weren’t cold, but they were slightly less warm than the rest of me. A memory of water flowing into my mouth, of the sensation that I was going to fucking drown, had me holding my breath for a second before I realized it and let it back out. And if it was shaky, I tried my best to pretend that it wasn’t.
“What happened?” he asked after a while.
I guess I’d been far enough away that he hadn’t heard what was going on? “They took me into another room,” I told him, keeping my eyes closed. “They asked where the money was.”
“And?”
“She said they would let me out if I told her what she wanted to know, and I told her I didn’t have it, and then they…”
I was going to set them on fire.
No, no, that was too easy. I was going to find a way to freeze their pipes at home and make them explode. You wanted a real nightmare? A financial one was terrifying, and not having water really, really sucked.
“They put a rag over my mouth and poured water over my face,” I explained, taking my time with each word. “I threw up. That’s why my shirt is gone, because I puked all over it. I got it all off, I think.” I sniffed, terror rising inside of me for a second, making my nose sting even more than it already did.
I wasn’t sure why I said it, why I would admit it to him especially, but maybe I just needed to get it off my chest. I’d heard somewhere that admitting something gave it less power. I hoped that was the fucking case. There were so many things I’d never talked about that kept me up at night. Maybe there was some merit to it. “I was so scared the whole time, but I didn’t tell them anything.” I sniffled. “I hope they all eat shit.”
“What else happened?” he asked quietly, surprising me even more.
“They did it again and again,” I told him. “I asked them to let you go. I told them you didn’t know anything. Promise.”
He didn’t say a word.
I kept going. “Then they left me in that freezing room until they brought me here.” I winced as I tried to swallow what felt like a cup of glass shards. “She didn’t do it to be nice. I think they’re going to start starving us, or maybe they’re going to come in here and try and torture you next to get me to break.”
Reality was, I was going to fucking die if we didn’t get out of here soon.
I tried sniffling and failed because I’d swear even my hair follicles were bruised. My head was pounding so much it took me a second to switch to Portuguese. “You need to get out of here. You look better, and I think you’re feeling better—”
“I am,” he cut me off.
I opened my eyes. “Is that why your eyes are glowing so bright now?” I struggled to ask, a language I’d known for most of my life suddenly feeling brand-new in my mouth. Was that why his skin was almost luminous too?
His nod was severe.
Oh, that was good. That was great.
But…
My head throbbed so bad I whimpered. The urge to throw up right there, but I’d already thrown up everything I had in me. I couldn’t even summon tears now, I was so dehydrated. But the part that concerned me the most was that I wasn’t hungry or thirsty either.
“Tell me something,” The Defender said quietly.
I made a noise to tell him to go ahead.
It seemed like it took him a second to pick out his words. “Why would you risk your life to save me? Why didn’t you leave like you said you would?”
Oh. He remembered. I tried to shrug but closed my eyes instead. “I only said I’d leave if someone was coming for you. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. I’m not going to let you suffer for it.” It was that easy.
There was a huff, and if I hadn’t been so tired, I might have peeked at him.
“Go back to sleep. Stop being sick,” he demanded after a moment in that gruff, bossy voice that still hinted at irritation.
Oh how the tables had turned.
I needed to stop feeling so bad, sure, but I had a feeling I was running out of time.
We both were.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
I groaned at the feel of something damp touching my forehead.
More than touching it, pressing down on it.
Moaning, I peered up at the frown hovering above me. I must have fallen asleep at some point. The last thing I remembered was gagging after telling him I wasn’t feeling well.