Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Azrael
The steady sound of her heart beating against mine sets my world ablaze. She’s the center of the universe I’d destroy to keep her. She’s the beam of hope in the blackest of skies, and ultimately, she’s my salvation.
She moans in her sleep, and I smooth the hair from her face, placing gentle kisses over her head. I run my hand through her silky locks, loving the way it slips between my fingers like a knife through butter.
“Ugh,” she moans, and I furrow my brow. Still sleeping, her body twists, and I hate the sound of her anguish. Then she darts up, her face is pale, and she rushes toward the bathroom.
What the hell?
Panic takes over me, and I jump up from the bed, grab my pants, and slip them on before following after her. My pulse rushes, and I shift from foot to foot, feeling completely useless when she clearly needs me.
She’s leaning over the toilet, heaving into the bowl, so I move behind her and wrap my hand in her hair, twisting it from her face as she vomits. The sound of her heaving causes my gut to clench, for no other reason than the thought of her suffering is too much to bear.
“If your father got a hold of her, you’d never survive his punishment of her.”
“Is it something you ate?” I ask, and she swipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then I release her hair.
She stands to her full height and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I ate the same as you.” I gently turn her and lift her onto the counter. After grabbing a washcloth from the shelf, I dampen it under the tap, then dab it at the corners of her mouth to clean off her lips.
“Th-thank you.”
Her pale complexion has worry gnawing away at me, and I crowd her space, stepping between her legs, needing her close to me. “Do you have stomach pains?”
“No.”
I wonder if this is something I should have been aware of before now? A condition maybe? Fuck, why the hell haven’t I had a medical file drawn up on her?
“Have you experienced sickness before now?”
She shakes her head. “No.” She pushes at my chest for me to take a step back, but I remain unmoved. “I’m sure it’s a one-off, Azrael.”
Slowly, I inspect her. Her eyes have dark circles beneath them, her face ashen, and if this is something more serious, she might become dehydrated. Jesus, she could already be. “I’m going to call a doctor to check you out.”
I push aside the concern about setting that request in motion, the outcome could be catastrophic should my father get a wind of me showing concern for one of the slaves, though there’s never been a cause for concern before now.
She croaks, “That’s not necessary, Azrael.”
I glide my hands up her naked thighs, relishing the goosebumps rising in my wake. “I’d prefer it. I’ll run you a bath while you wait.”
She begins to shake her head again, but I send her a deadly glare that forces her to slam her lips shut, and has me smirking when she puckers into a pout.
“You’re so stubborn,” she mumbles.
“I’m dominant,” I throw over my shoulder, twisting on the bath taps. “There’s a clear difference.” I turn to give her my attention, ignoring the way my balls ache with a satisfaction only she can provide. “Come”—I hold my hand out for her—“you can get in while I make the call.”
She rolls her eyes, and if she weren’t sick, I’d spank her for it.
“It’s pointless wasting anyone’s time. It was a one-off, Azrael,” she says with confidence.
“In that case, there’s nothing to worry about.” I kiss the top of her head and help her into the tub. When her body disappears beneath the bubbles, I head out the door and make the call.