CHAPTER ELEVEN
"You're not eating," Jeremy says.
I tear my mind away from the shower incident the day before, and the hell that was sleeping naked beside him later that night.
I was so conscious of Jeremy lying naked inches away that sleep was pretty much impossible. My body wanted his, and no matter how many times I tried to convince myself otherwise, that wasn't enough to silence the ache inside me.
An ache that Jeremy has awakened.
I pick at the fish and salad on my plate in the hotel's restaurant and struggle to understand why I even bother to choose it.
I've never been the biggest fan of fish. Most wolf shifters aren't. We've always been more of the meat and potatoes kind.
Jeremy ordered two servings of the largest steak on the menu and five different sides, which has pretty much taken over all the space on the table. But as this is a fancy restaurant with crystal chandeliers and a real pianist playing in the corner, the waiter didn't even blink.
"I'm not hungry," I tell my fish.
I know why I chose it. It was the first thing I saw on the menu, so I just went with it.
"You want to order something else."
Trust him to know.
"No."
"Are you sure you don't want something else?"
I lift my head at Jeremy's insistence, and when my eyes lock with his, I know he isn't talking about anything on the menu.
Is he being fucking serious?
I narrow my eyes. "No. There's nothing else I want."
Amusement lights his eyes as he reaches for his glass of red wine. I will him to spill it down the front of his white shirt. But of course, he doesn't.
"You sure about that, sweet? All you have to do is say the word."
Anger stirs, and I lean toward him. My whisper is low and furious. "Are you fucking kidding me? I am not about to beg you for your-"
Our waiter materializes beside our table with a warm smile. "And how is everything with your meal this evening? Is there anything I can get for you?"
I turn to him with a false smile. "I appreciate you stopping to ask, but I think we're okay. Thank you."
As I'm turning back to Jeremy, the waiter clears his throat.
"Are you sure, Miss Shaw? I can see you've eaten so little of the fish. The chef will be happy to prepare something else for you instead…?"
It takes a second for me to realize what's going on.
Someone has recognized me, otherwise why else would they be calling me Miss Shaw when I was only Madam before?
And now, someone has seen I'm not eating, and they're probably worried I'm going to slate the restaurant on Instagram or something.
"This is fine. Thank you," I say, with another empty smile, trying to ignore Jeremy's grin.
Of course, he'd think this was fucking hilarious. And the fact he has me swearing like this, even to myself, means if I don't get myself out of this situation, I'm going to explode.
"You know what, can you point the way to the bathroom?"
The waiter's expression turns to one of horror as he darts a glance at my mostly full plate before his eyes go to my stomach. "Oh, no. Let me-"
I yank the napkin from my lap and rise without waiting for him to pull my chair out. "I'm going to the bathroom," I tell Jeremy through gritted teeth.
"Don't take too long now, sweet." There's a warning in his eyes as if he suspects I'll try to run, which makes me glare at him even harder.
Why is it every time I have the slightest thought about leaving, he knows it?
I reach for my purse. "I won't. If you'll just-" Instead, I watch as it disappears to Jeremy's side of the table. Just like the last time.
"I'm sure you won't be needing your phone for a quick trip to the bathroom, will you?"
As I consider arguing with him, I suddenly remember the waiter observing us.
So, I force another smile on my face. "Of course not, I'll be right back."
Without waiting for Jeremy to say anything else that'll only piss me off, I turn and stalk away, hoping I'm heading in the right direction since the waiter never told me where the bathroom was.
Five minutes in the toilet cubicle working on my breathing leaves me feeling like I'm not ready to kill Jeremy, and as I make my way through the foyer of the hotel and back to the restaurant, a man in a smart suit bumps into me hard enough for me to stumble and nearly go down.
"Hey, what-" I gasp and grab at my stomach.
When I look down, it takes me a second to understand what I'm seeing.
A circle of blood is forming on my pale green dress, dark and red. And as if my lack of understanding was holding the pain back, once I know what's happened, pain blooms.
I lift my head and stare into the man's face. "You stabbed me," I whisper.
He smiles, and steps closer, which is when I know he's going to do it again. His blandly handsome face gives nothing of his intention away, but a dark flash in his eyes warns me that this time he won't be going for my stomach.
This time, when his hand lashes out, I catch his wrist before he can plunge the small sharp knife into my heart, and as I stumble back in my heels, he follows to press me against the wall.
Since no one in the foyer reacts in any way, I guess it must look like we've bumped into each other and are moving to the side of the hallway to talk.
No one knows I'm in a fight for my life.
All because he's holding the knife low and stabbing upwards. Which means he must've done something like this before. Maybe even killed someone like this.
He's strong. A shifter. And he doesn't smell of anything, which means he's wearing scent blockers, a clear sign he must be a Merrick.
I open my mouth to scream, thinking the attention will draw him away, but then my vision changes. I snarl as my wolf attempts to force a shift, and I realize that drawing attention to us-to me-is the last thing I need.
If I shift in a crowded hotel foyer, there's no knowing how bad things could get, so I push her back and stop the change.
"Savannah!"
Jeremy's voice pulls my attention from the shifter. I see him standing at the entrance to the restaurant with a frown on his face, as if he's trying to work out what's going on.
The shifter takes advantage of my distraction and plunges the dagger into me again, making me gasp in agony.
Although he missed my heart, wherever he stabbed me hurt like hell that it wouldn't surprise me to learn he hit an organ.
He yanks the blade out and prepares to stab again.
But before he does, I get a passing glimpse of a big guy with shaggy hair who barrels into the shifter hard enough that they both disappear into the crowd.
I'm too busy sliding down the wall to see any more than that.
That's when a woman starts screaming. She stares down at me in horror, and it takes one glance at the blood covering my chest for me to understand why.
I blink, and then Jeremy is there, his hands cradling the sides of my face as he gazes into my eyes with a fury unlike anything I've ever seen before.
"Jeremy," I whisper, "he stabbed me."
"It's okay, sweet." He scoops me in his arms before elbowing his way through a crowd that's coming to a standstill as they stare after us.
"Jeremy," I whisper again, clutching onto his shirt as the pain in my chest builds until it threatens to take me under.
My head is suddenly so heavy it falls back against his shoulder.
"Savannah!" Jeremy's voice is sharp. Full of command.
I open eyes I didn't realize I'd closed.
We're in a stairwell, and he's moving fast. Every step he takes hurts so much that I know I can't take anymore. My eyes flutter closed again.
"Savannah, stay with me. Open your eyes."
Only, no matter how much I try, I can't.
I hear him talking, and his voice grows more and more distant as if I'm falling down a tunnel and leaving him far above me. I never hit the bottom.
I just keep falling and falling until suddenly… there's nothing. No pain, no sound, no Jeremy. Nothing at all.