2. From Bad to Worse
2
From Bad to Worse
Annalise
Despite there being only a thin sheet covering my body, I’m warm. Blinking toward the faint, orange glow that radiates from the fireplace, it seems I’ve identified the source of heat that’s taken the chill off my feet.
It’s night, and I’m in my room, but with my sense of time scrambled, this feels like a fever dream.
Stretching my toes toward the end of the bed, the soles of my feet brush a set of long, strong legs. Bare legs. My movement causes the body behind me to stir, and then an arm reaches around my torso.
Suddenly more coherent than a moment ago, I catch his scent.
Cas .
His soft, rhythmic breathing brings me comfort as the fire crackles, but my head’s still spinning as I attempt to put together the events of the last several hours. At least, I think it’s been hours. It could very well have been days.
I’m stiff and sore everywhere, connecting me to my most recent memory. A memory in which Cas drags me from a burning car, carries me up the stairs, and then to my bedroom. I recall the gentleness of his touch as he stroked the side of my face, the concern that was heavy in his eyes. But after that… everything went dark. Now, as I lie here naked, I’m drawing a blank as to what happened next.
“You’re awake,” Cas rasps, propping himself on his elbow to stare over my shoulder. It isn’t lost on me how surprised he sounds seeing that I’m conscious, making me wonder just how bad things got.
And also making it even more strange that we’re here. Together. Naked in my bed.
“I—I don’t understand. It was…”
He kisses my shoulder as I ramble. “You took a turn for the worst,” he says. “Jezebel sent for me, and I came to you as quickly as I could.”
He falls silent, and I turn, glancing over my shoulder to take in his expression. It’s distant, like he’s suddenly gone someplace else in his mind. Only now am I grasping just how dire things must have been. At the thought of it, I swallow deeply, the dull sting in my throat pointing out the rawness I hadn’t noticed before.
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
His grip tightens around me with those words.
“I… I almost died?”
That’s a strange question to string together, but when Cas takes a moment to speak, I can guess what his answer will be.
“Almost,” he says, and I blink a few times, finding it strange that I can’t remember even a piece of what happened after the accident.
“How am I still… here ?”
Cas breathes deep, and the air in the room suddenly feels heavy. “Jezebel. She performed a ritual that saved you.”
My brow scrunches at his word choice. “Ritual?”
“Likely something she dug out of her archives. My guess is it’s ancient, rarely used,” he adds casually, and it’s as though he’s attempting to convince me this has all been no big deal.
But when I focus on the clues—the disorientation, the echo of pain that still lingers—my body says otherwise.
“We weren’t entirely sure it would work,” he admits, and his arm tightens around me even more. “I insisted that she try, though. I told her to do whatever it took.”
I place my hand on top of his, and despite being naked beneath the sheet together, no space between our bodies, the intimacy I feel has nothing to do with sexual attraction. And it’s with the sensation of his heart racing against my back that I become aware of how deep his concern for me actually runs.
How deep his feelings for me run.
“This ritual… was it quick?” I ask.
He nods, and his chin moves against my shoulder.
“The process itself didn’t take much time, but you’ve been out for hours. I meant to stay awake to keep an eye on you, but… I guess it took more out of me than I realized.”
He laughs quietly, but I’m caught off guard by the new information.
“Took more out of you… What do you mean?”
His laughter grows quiet, succumbing to the silence in the room, and I feel his slow, steady breathing behind me.
“It means that I… loaned you my strength,” he says quietly. “It was the only way to save you. It was the only way to jumpstart your healing.”
I take in what he’s said, along with the fact that he’s as drained and exhausted as I am right now. Again, he’s making light of this, but something tells me this ritual was a much bigger deal than he’s saying.
“Thank you. For whatever you did, whatever you gave. Just… thank you.”
I’ve barely finished speaking, and he’s pulled my hand from underneath the sheet, placing a kiss on the back of it.
“You don’t have to thank me, Annalise. Ever. For anything . You’re mine, and I’ll always protect you.”
A tear slips from my eye and soaks into the pillow while his declaration settles on my heart. Words mean very little when there’s no action to back them up, but Cas has gone above and beyond where action is concerned. It would take an act of the gods to convince me I’m not important to him.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asks.
“Neither, just still pretty sore.”
He stirs behind me, and I’m disappointed when he sits up and slips from under the sheet.
“I’ll draw us a bath,” he says, and hearing that he’ll join me has me feeling content again.
I flip onto my side, facing him as I smile. “You had me at us .”
He smiles and stretches with a yawn, and while I’d like to say I’m mature enough to only be focused on that boyish smirk that’s just crossed his lips, that isn’t quite the case. Instead, I’m scanning his physique. He’s all perfect symmetry and ratios, not a single part of him lacking or unseemly to look at. His smooth, tan skin is without blemish, and I have the very specific urge to lick him everywhere.
Everywhere.
I feel my mouth curve with a smile as my gaze lowers to his cock, remembering the feel of it as it hardened even more in my mouth, slipping back and forth over my tongue. I’m far too weak to act on this fantasy at this exact moment, but a girl can dream, can’t she?
I’m in the middle of unashamedly gawking at his body when movement off to his left draws my attention away. It’s his hand, twitching at his side as I feel my expression shift from total admiration to deeply concerned.
I prop myself up on one elbow, holding the sheet to my chest as my heart gains speed.
“Cas… I think something’s wrong. Should I get Jezebel?”
A sudden flash of awareness fills his eyes when he glances down. Then, he quickly draws the trembling hand to his chest, clutching it with the other.
“I—no. It’s probably just an after-effect of the ritual.” He forces a weak smile, likely with hopes that it will make me less worried, but it isn’t working.
“I think we should have someone examine you. Maybe it was too much and?—”
“Annalise,” he snaps, pausing to breathe and quiet his tone before continuing. “I’m fine. There’s no need to worry.”
The tension between us is thick, but his eyes soften a bit. I study him, searching for other signs that something’s off, other signs that he isn’t as okay as he’s pretending to be.
“I’ll start the bath,” he says again, and it isn’t lost on me that this is his way of politely dismissing my concerns. He can talk his way out of this conversation now, but once I’m back on my feet, back to full strength, we’ll revisit this.
I rest my head against the pillow again, trying my best to quiet a barrage of worrying thoughts as Cas swaggers toward my bathroom. I’ve decided to let his explanation be enough to settle my nerves for now, but the moment I find peace, a sharp knock at the door steals it away.
Cas and I lock eyes. I sit upright in bed, feeling my heart thunder as he doubles back to grab his pants from the chair pushed underneath my vanity. Before this moment, I hadn’t realized how on edge I am. We haven’t discussed Elizabeth or the incident from this afternoon, but speaking for myself, I’m no longer sure who’s trustworthy. And judging by the look of grave concern on Cas’s face as he zips his pants and stalks toward the door, he’s had similar thoughts.
He passes a look my way, then holds one finger to his lips. I nod and pull the sheet higher to cover my breasts, agreeing not to move, not to make a sound. Then, as I swallow the lump in my throat, he opens the door.
Soft light floods in from the hallway, brightening a thin sliver of his skin, and I note how his posture changes—the muscles in his arms and chest becoming more rigid. As if he’s suddenly defensive.
“Yes?” he answers, sounding regal and confident despite having been caught off guard in the middle of the night.
“Creed said I might find you here,” a deep voice says from across the threshold. “We need to talk.”
“It’s late. Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”
“If this could’ve been put off, trust me, I wouldn’t be standing here. Unfortunately, there’s a rather urgent matter to discuss, and time is of the essence.”
I now recognize the voice as Dimitri’s, but there’s a subtle gravity to it that isn’t always there. The sound of it twists my stomach in knots, and just like that, the atmosphere has shifted.
He has yet to disclose the details of this pressing matter, but something tells me an already turbulent evening is about to go from bad to far, far worse.