CHAPTER TWELVE
Pain rips me from the black nothing.
It's impossible to know how much time passes because all I'm conscious of is pain.
But at least I'm not alone.
As I drift in and out of an ocean of pain, Jeremy is always there, holding my hand, curving his body around mine, telling me to hold on, that it won't hurt for much longer.
And even though I know painkillers and drugs don't work on us shifters, it doesn't stop me from begging for them anyway.
Whatever Jeremy says is swept away before I can grab onto it like a lifeline, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is he's holding me, pressing his lips against my brow, and there's a burning intensity in his eyes that tells me he'd kill the world if it would stop me from hurting.
I sink back into blackness. Away from the pain, which I'm relieved about, and away from Jeremy, which I'm strangely reluctant to.
When I blink my eyes open, the sunlight streaming in through the open balcony windows tells me it's a new day.
The air smells fresh and clean, and when I glance down at my body, I'm covered in a thin white sheet. I don't feel I'm wearing anything else, not even my panties.
For once, my hair isn't trying to strangle me, or get in my eyes, or making me sweat because there's so much of it. When I touch my hair, I find it neatly braided, which makes me frown in confusion since I know I didn't do it.
Did Jeremy have someone else up here? Because I'm struggling to picture him braiding my hair. At all.
And someone must have undressed me and cleaned the blood from my body before slipping me into cool, fresh sheets.
Not someone, I tell myself, as I take in the figure slumped in a chair beside my bed.
Jeremy Stone. AKA alpha dick.
Except, he's not. At least not now.
I wonder how long that'll last.
I stare into his face. Well, as much of it as I can see, given he's sleeping with his jean-clad legs wide apart, arms crossed, and his head dipping forward so his chin is pressing against his chest.
Then I turn away and try to sit up.
Although most of my pain has subsided, there's still a sharpness where the shifter stabbed me the second time. When I lower the sheets and reach a finger to touch the still healing wound, I wince.
"I think he hit your kidney."
At Jeremy's voice, still husky from sleep, I lift my head from the wound under my left rib and turn to meet Jeremy's gaze.
His expression is blank. Like, completely neutral, no hint of a smile, or a snarl or… anything.
It's smooth as stone, and that's when I know how close I came to dying.
"Jeremy?" I whisper.
He lowers his gaze to the wound. "You were in so much pain and there was nothing I could do. No drug I could give you. No way to stop it."
When he falls silent, I take in his face and know he didn't sleep. "I heard you talking. I don't remember what you said, but I knew you were there and what you were saying made me feel… better."
Jeremy's lips twitch. "I was telling you all the things I'd do to the shifter when I got my hands on him."
An urge to yawn sneaks up on me and I fight it back, even as I lay back down, this time on my side so I can still see Jeremy. "I guess that's why then."
His eyes are warm when they scan my face. "Sleep. You're still healing."
I wriggle as I struggle to get comfortable. "A woman was screaming," I remember, thinking back to the hotel foyer. "I'm surprised no one came up here to find out what happened to me."
Jeremy rises from his chair and climbs into bed beside me. He gently shifts me until my head is resting on his t-shirt covered chest. I close my eyes and let out a small sigh when he smooths a hand down my braid.
"People did. The hotel staff mostly. I said it was a private matter, that the woman had overreacted, and you'd be fine."
"And did that work?" I feel myself drifting back to sleep.
"Not really. When I threatened to throw them down the stairs, that seemed to work better. I'm surprised they haven't called the police, though."
I smile because that is so what I expected Jeremy to do. "If they do, wake me and I'll talk to them," I mumble, already more asleep than awake.
Jeremy snorts. "I'm not waking you for any reason. You need to sleep to heal. Fuck them."
"Jeremy?"
"Sleep."
"But Jeremy, who was the shifter with the shaggy hair," I ask, fighting sleep, as I remember the guy who likely saved me from being stabbed again.
His chest rumbles with his muffled laughter. "Shaggy hair?"
"Mmm. He saved my life, I think."
Jeremy stops laughing. "We'll talk about it later."
"Are you just saying that to shut me up?"
"Yes, sweet. Now go to sleep."
I open my mouth to argue, but the only thing to emerge is a yawn so wide, it makes my eyes water, and has Jeremy chuckling.
Sleep comes easily, and it's easy to sink into when I have Jeremy stroking one hand down my braid, and his other arm wrapped snug around my waist.
It's much later that day, around early evening, that the alpha dick makes his reappearance.
"I am not going to the toilet with you standing over me, Jeremy. You can wait for me outside."
Since I've slept most of the day, when I finally woke, it was because of a hollowness in my stomach.
Jeremy helped me slip into one of his t-shirts since he refused to grab any of my clothes after he told me there was no point in my dressing. After that argument, we just keep finding reason after reason to argue.
Jeremy glares at me mutinously and doesn't make a move to leave the bathroom. "What if you fall?"
I glare back. "Then I'll get up."
When he opens his mouth, I grip his shirt and tug him closer, then I rise on my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips. "I know you're worried, but I'm fine."
His eyes are warmer as he smooths hair from my face. "Shout when you're done, and I'll come and get you."
And after he brushes his lips against mine, he leaves.
For several seconds I just stand there, staring after him, amazed I got him to listen.
"It won't always work," Jeremy calls from just outside.
I glare through the door. How does he always know what-
"Because I know you, Savannah. And if you took a moment to think about it, you'd realize you know me too."
Since I have no idea how to even begin to respond to that, I don't bother.
Instead, I focus what little energy I have on using the bathroom, washing my hands, face, and brushing my teeth.
I hesitate over getting in the shower, but the thought of standing any longer doesn't feel like it's going to end well, so I slowly make my way to the bathroom door, favoring my right side more and more with every step. But before I can open it, Jeremy does.
He takes one look into my face and swears. "You should've shouted," he growls as he scoops me into his arms.
I don't respond because the stabbing pain under my rib hurts too much. So, I close my eyes and press my face against his neck as I try to breathe through the pain.
"That bad, huh?" he asks, sounding a lot less growly than he did a second ago.
I nod.
Once he gets me back into bed, he sits on the edge and stares into my face. "I could get some tranquilizer darts," he offers.
Once the pain subsides a little, I narrow my eyes. "You are not shooting me with a tranq dart, Jeremy Stone. I saw how sick it made Talis and you are not doing that to me. And anyway, it's hit and miss whether it would do anything, anyway."
Jeremy sighs. "I should've done it when you were out of it."
It's a struggle to get comfortable since it hurts to lie on my back, on my side, and the thought of lying on my front sounds like the worst position of all.
"If you had," I grumble, "I'd have made sure your face was the first place I aimed my sick."
"Classy, Savannah. Real classy. You want to get in my lap?"
I stop wriggling around and turn to him. "What?"
"You can't get comfortable, and I can see you don't want to sleep. I'm asking if you want to get in my lap."
I stare at him. "I'm surprised you didn't just pick me up and plop me on there like some kind of-"
"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you."
Although my lips twitch, I nod and slip my arm around his shoulder as he lifts me out of bed. To my surprise, he walks us over to the couch in front of the TV and settles me on his lap before grabbing for the remote.
"What?" he asks. "You said I shouldn't expect you to entertain me."
Since anything I say to that will probably lead to an argument, I stay silent. Instead, I rest my head against his shoulder as he flicks through channel after channel.
"You hungry?" he murmurs as he strokes my hair with one hand before he settles on a wildlife documentary.
I shake my head. "I know I should eat, but not yet. It hurts too much to think about eating."
He presses his lips against my forehead. "I'll order something up in an hour if you want? Steak and potatoes. I'll even cut it for you."
I smile with my eyes closed. "I'm injured, not a child."
Jeremy kisses my brow. "Same difference. Shhh. You're making me miss seeing how animals hunt in the wild," he whispers loudly.
"Shush me again and I'll show you. Firsthand."
His body shakes with silent laughter as he strokes a hand up and down my back in a way that has me wishing he would never stop.