Chapter 16
Mia
I blink my eyes open slowly, my head throbbing.
I’m confused, and I look around the room, trying to take in my surroundings.
I’m in the bathroom. At the cottage.
The toilet is in front of me, and I have no idea how I got here.
“Easy.” I hear Killian’s voice, and I turn my head to look at him. Even that movement is almost too much for me, and I let out a low whimper.
“You’re okay, Kitten,” Killian says, his voice soft. “It’s okay.”
I lean my head back on the cool, tiled wall, closing my eyes. I’m spinning. I’m spinning and my head is pounding in my temples, and my throat is so dry it aches.
As if he can read my mind, Killian brings a bottle of water to my lips. I open my mouth, desperate, as he pours some in.
It’s not enough, though. He pulls it back before I can drink more, and another whimper escapes my lips.
“You’ll get sick, sweetheart,” he says, and I wonder briefly if I’m dreaming.
Did he just call me sweetheart? And he’s taking care of me while I’m sick?
Another wave of confusion hits me; why am I sick? I wasn’t going to drink tonight. I remember that I didn’t want to. So, what the hell happened to me?
I can’t contemplate it any further, though. A rush of nausea slams into me, hard. I sit up quickly, leaning my head over the toilet as I throw up.
If I wasn’t so fucked up, I’d be mortified about this; me, throwing up, while Killian Savage holds my hair back. Right now, I’m too sick to care.
I throw up until I feel like there’s nothing left in my stomach, and then I lean my back against the tiled wall again.
I close my eyes, and I feel Killian patting my cheek with a cool washcloth. It feels so good, I could honestly drift off to sleep right now.
“Let’s get you back in bed,” Killian whispers in my ear, and I shake my head, no.
I can’t move. It hurts too much.
“You can’t sleep here,” he tells me.
“Hurts,” I manage to get out.
The next thing I know, I’m being scooped up in Killian’s arms, and he’s carrying me to the bedroom. He gently places me on the bed and sits down next to me, stroking my hair back.
“Just rest,” he murmurs.
“It hurts,” I say again, a sob escaping my throat.
I feel his thumb brush away my tears as he replies, “Don’t cry. You’re okay, pretty girl. I’ve got you, Kitten. Just rest. You’re going to be fine, I promise.”
His weight shifts, and I think that he’s leaving.
I’m so far gone that I don’t think about the fact that I shouldn’t reach for him. I just do.
I grip his hand in mine, and I whisper, “Stay.”
I feel him sit back down, his hand never leaving mine.
I drift off shortly after, completely and utterly spent.