Chapter 12
L ucian lay on the clinic bed in the same room I’d escaped from. It was as if the mess I’d made of the window was never there; everything was cleaned and repaired.
I slumped deeper into the chair next to his bed.
It’d been a long wait, close to an entire day until I received information on his prognosis. I almost drove the nurses crazy with my constant pestering.
Now that I had him in front of me, not dead, and definitely breathing, any strength in my body seeped away. I could finally relax. Or, at the very least, not be on the verge of exploding.
I pressed my fingertips into my temples and rubbed them. The thread of adrenaline that had kept me going snapped the moment I saw him breathing.
He was okay . I continued to repeat the mantra in my head. My anger hadn’t faded, although it had been veiled momentarily by fear, it didn’t mean I forgave him.
As soon as he woke up, I’d leave.
Yes, that was my plan. I exhaled slowly and rolled my neck. The pinches all over my body were flaring to an uncomfortable level. Especially my neck and cheek where Drake had hit me.
I rubbed my eyebrow and quickly yanked my hand away at the sting that radiated to my jaw.
Faint fingerprints adorned my arms where that asshole had held me, so I couldn’t imagine how discolored my jawline and neck were.
Other than that, my shoulder was sore from the blow, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with.
Alex still hadn’t shown up, and it was the next night already. That was one reason I was trying not to freak out. The other, and main one, was that Lucian hadn’t woken up. He was only two hours late based on the estimation Melodie had given me, but it felt like an eternity.
With my elbows on the edge of the bed, I laced my hands and studied his bruised face. Even with the cut on his forehead, the plum color blooming across his nose and cheekbone, and the swelling, he was beautiful. The mate I never knew I was missing. My tattoo pulsed, making a point.
The ink had been on my mind for a while. I’d been debating whether I should get it removed or covered up.
Lucian kicked his good leg out, and it caused the blanket to slip down his bare chest. I grabbed it and tucked it around him, untangling it from his limb.
He groaned and kicked out again, making it slip to his belly button.
He must be hot. I bunched the edge and pulled it around his waist, right above his belly button. The dip of his abs flexed, and I slid my hand over the dip and swells as I pulled away. So soft . . . and strong and?—
“I should go,” I muttered to myself, my pulse thundering in my ears. I released the edge of the blanket, but before I could pull away fully, he caught my wrist, keeping my hand flat against his hard abs.
“No,” he blurted.
I gasped, my eyes widening.
“Lucian!” I exclaimed in relief, so much relief. He tried to sit up, and he hissed out a breath, his arm curling around his midsection.
“Stop, you have two cracked ribs and a broken one.”
“Don’t leave,” he croaked, his features scrunched.
“Lucian—”
“No,” he growled, sitting up, but his face remained splashed with agony. The male was stubborn as fuck.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “But stop moving. You need to rest.”
He stared at me steadily and lay down, groaning and clasping his side. Blood bloomed across the pristine bandage on his side.
“Lucian,” I reproached, standing and pressing his shoulder while also reaching for the button to call for Melodie.
The door swung open, and the more muscular male nurse entered. Lucian was too busy squeezing his eyes shut, lips in a tight line, to see him enter. I could feel the man approach at my back, and then his woodsy shifter scent filled my nostrils.
“Luna, if you’d step outside.”
“No,” Lucian snarled and lunged upright so suddenly, I couldn’t have stopped him. He grabbed the male’s shoulder, easily bringing him to the bed to wrap his hand around his throat.
“She does not leave,” he hissed into the man’s face.
“Lucian, let him go,” I shouted. I should know the name of the guy Lucian kept trying to kill. I gripped the wrist of the hand holding the male. The nurse was incredibly still, his eyes peeled wide.
“Stop,” I snarled at him. He growled and finally shoved him away. I caught a glimpse of the name tag. Robert.
He backed away, chest heaving. Lucian hadn’t removed his eyes from Robert, and I intercepted his view.
“Enough.” I clasped his hand and, with my free one, I pushed him back.
His lips thinned, and his face paled.
“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” I snapped.
He breathed out in jagged pumps.
“Can you please call Melodie?” I asked Robert as he caught his breath. The imprint of Lucian’s hand remained around his throat. Still nodding, he left.
I turned back to Lucian. Rage filmed his eyes.
“I won’t lose you again,” he bit out. He didn’t seem fully present.
“Stop being so difficult.” I wiggled my wrist, but he didn’t let me go. “I won’t go anywhere,” I gasped in exasperation.
Yet. I wouldn’t go anywhere yet .
A light knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I called. Melodie entered with a tray in hand.
“I’m here to change his bandage.”
“Thanks,” I offered and moved to the side. Melodie hurried to the opposite side, set the tray down, and got to work.
“I’m upping his pain med dosage too,” she announced.
I kept my attention fixed on the mattress as Melodie lifted the stained bandage. Lucian watched me steadily. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, his gaze was a familiar caress.
How dare he ?
Dragging in a breath, I couldn’t face my anger or guilt or sadness because I would fall apart, and I needed to be here to help him.
A sharp pang sliced through my chest, traveling down to my stomach. Melodie’s bare arm, where her sleeve was bunched, touched Lucian.
Her contact with his skin wasn’t as agonizing as it would have been if we had not claimed each other.
It caused a dull pain in our bond, like the start of a stomach ache, but it was easy to ignore.
After the crinkle of a wrapper, she carefully stretched a fresh gauze over the split skin at his side.
It was where his broken rib had sliced through his flesh.
She smoothed the edges and began to collect all the garbage into the bin.
“Can I talk to you outside?” she whispered.
“Don’t leave,” he grumbled, keeping such a tight hold on my hand. A soft snore left his parted lips. The meds had hit his system.
I tried to slide my hand out, but he clamped it harder. I winced and shook my head at Melodie.
“It’s okay.” She kept her voice low. “We need him to stay for at least a week to monitor the healing.” She licked her lips. “I hate to ask this of you, but Alpha won’t do as we ask, and you’re the only one he listens to . . .”
I knew what she was getting at.
I sighed and nodded.
“Thank you, Luna.” Her eyes brightened with gratitude. “I’ll bring you everything you’ll need.” She picked up the tray with the items from the procedure and left the room. Leaving me with the soft snores of my mate.
His face was so . . . attractive. His elegance and the stiff features all came together to create a beautiful, aristocratic man. The Moon gave him an unfair advantage.
Even as his body visibly relaxed into the mattress, his grip around my wrist didn’t loosen. I didn’t want to risk him waking up, so I perched on the edge of the chair.
I had gotten him into this situation; I owed it to him for getting me away from Gideon Drake.
This was the least I could do. It had nothing to do with loving him, just with guilt.
I tipped my head up, the water dripping down my almost completely healed face. The clinic shower wasn’t too bad, but what I was getting tired of were the scrubs.
The last week had been much of the same. Lucian, delirious, with his consciousness fading in and out. He was drugged up to the max to help with his pain. And also, to stop him from moving around too much and trying to kill people.
Lucian was so fucking trigger-happy. His temper was crazy, too. I hadn’t realized just how unhinged he was because he hardly showed me this side of him, but the staff and Alex didn’t seem surprised.
He’d always been psychotic; he just wasn’t with me .
Why that caused butterflies in my stomach was beyond me; it just cemented how fucked in the head I was.
The door creaked open, and I whipped around.
“Occupied,” I called. Whoever opened it didn’t stop, then Lucian came around the bend.
“Lucian,” I gasped. “Get back to the bed.”
He scowled at me. His bruised face was no less handsome.
“You’re taking too long.”
I shut the shower off. Lucian leaned against the door, his face paler than usual.
“You’re just going to hurt yourself,” I snapped, and dragged the glass open before stepping outside to find him attempting to spread open a towel. “Lucian.” The urge to smack my face heightened with each day.
I snatched the cloth from him while he struggled. With quick swipes, I dried myself, trying not to feel self-conscious as he watched me.
I often found him just looking at me. Our bond seemed to like that as much as his touch because the warmth that bloomed in my stomach happened each time.
“Josephine . . .”
His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips stiffened like he was about to say something unpleasant.
Every time he was lucid, he’d been trying to talk to me about his rejection. When he started, it was always with the same hesitation and drawn expression that screamed his guilt.
“Not right now, Lucian.” Before today, I’d only made excuses to get out of the conversation.
Either getting up to go to the bathroom, asking him if he was hungry, or dramatically yawning and sliding into the cot Melodie brought to the room for me to sleep in, but not today.
“I understand you have things to say, but let’s focus on you getting better. ”
His eyes skittered to the side, and the corner of his lips drooped.
He looked like a kicked puppy.
To avoid focusing on his sadness, I grabbed the scrubs and quickly donned them. Then I scrubbed my hair with the towel to wring out some water. Once I was satisfied, I slid on the slippers and left behind the wet sandals on the floor.
I straightened and found him watching me impassively.
“Let’s get you back to bed.” I hooked my arm around his waist, pressing my hip against his side. He remained quiet as I guided him. He didn’t attempt to talk about anything—to my relief.