Chapter 25
Rayna
It was for the best.
He’d understand soon why I did it.
Rejecting him was the right thing to do.
Rayna kept telling herself these things over and over again, hoping the lie she’d told Dominic would soon feel like the truth.
But no matter how angry she got with herself, no matter how many disastrous endings she came up with had she not rejected him, the heavy feeling that she’d done the wrong thing pressed down on her stomach constantly.
She’d hurt him. Badly. Enough to make him give up.
That was what she’d wanted. But now that she’d achieved it, she hated it.
She hated how differently he was treating her.
His silence around her. His downcast gaze. The lack of sneaky touches when he helped her with chores. His absence the moment he no longer needed to be in her presence.
Only on Tuesday through to Thursday, when they’d been at the museum, working on the letters with Cassie, Matt, and Hania, had he seemed more like himself. With them. Not her.
Rayna told herself it was because she wasn’t used to him acting like so, that was why it bothered her. She told herself she’d eventually be fine with it and wouldn’t care soon. But all the while, the churning discomfort in her belly began feeling more like anxiety.
I don’t like this. I hate it. This isn’t what I wanted.
But it was what she would have to accept. She had to…didn’t she?
What he’d offered her—no consequences, no one discovering them, nothing but a temporary secret—that was too good to be true, wasn’t it?
It didn’t matter anymore, though. She’d pushed him away, so now she’d never find out.
But the distance she’d forced between them made her hyperaware of his every move. Maybe that was why on Thursday evening, while they were eating dinner at the small, square table, something about his silence felt off.
She’d made steak and chips with a salad.
None of it was spicy, and she hadn’t added anything he didn’t like, yet he kept clearing his throat and taking sips of water as if in discomfort.
Plus, there was a slight strain between his brows and a faint pinkness under his skin. Neither of which were normally there.
Rayna lowered a forkful of steak from her open mouth when Dominic cleared his throat for the dozenth time and reached for his glass of water. Pressing her lips together, she watched his left eye give the slightest wince as he swallowed the liquid before he placed the glass down.
“Is something wrong?” she muttered.
“No,” he replied without lifting his gaze from his plate.
“Do you not like what I made?”
He pressed a forkful of steak into a thick chip. “I do.”
“Then what’s—”
His head snapped up. “There is nothing wrong.”
She blinked, taken aback by his abruptness. It might have angered her if she hadn’t noticed the weary droop to his eyes. He looked exhausted as if…
“Dominic, are you not feeling well?” she asked, placing her knife and fork on her plate of half-eaten food.
He lowered his thick fans of lashes. “I am well,” he muttered and chomped down on the fork.
She shuffled forward on her chair and moved the back of her hand towards his forehead. “Let me check—”
But he dodged her fingers. She stared agape as he finished chewing.
“I said I am well.”
“Then let me check you are.”
“You do not need to.”
“What the—” She cut off, and the crevice between her brows deepened. “Yes, I do. I have a duty of care to you as your—”
“Guardian.” His amber-ringed eyes pierced into hers. “Yes, I’m aware.”
She ignored the stab of discomfort between her ribs and sat taller. “Then let me check, Dominic. Because if you’re sick, I need to tell Ash.”
“There is no need. I am fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she snapped. “I can see you’re not, so why are you lying?”
His lips curled in a small smirk that threw her off. “You do not believe me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, then…take my word as I took yours. I am fine.”
With that, he forked the last chip on his plate into his mouth, finished his water, and picked up his stuff. After placing everything in the sink, he left.
Rayna had wanted to chase Dominic and yell at him for being so stupid and comparing how she’d lied about wanting him to the way he was lying about not being ill.
In hindsight, she should have. A Study falling sick could potentially escalate into a serious issue, and as his Guardian, she should have been more adamant about checking him as she would have been with another.
Instead, not having the energy to butt heads with him, she decided to force the subject again in the morning and assess his condition properly.
But the following day, Rayna was almost finished preparing breakfast, yet Dominic hadn’t made an appearance. She even woke up a little earlier to try to catch him before he went for a swim, but she’d neither seen him leave nor return through the garden doors.
When the kettle went off with a flood of steam, her hand reached to pick it up, but her frown moved to the archway, waiting for his entrance.
A few seconds passed.
Nothing.
Not the creak of the third step from the bottom to let her know he was coming down the stairs. Nor the faint patter of movement on the floorboards above to at least tell her he was awake.
Something’s wrong.
Abandoning the kettle, Rayna headed out into the corridor and up the stairs, swiftly passing her room and stopping before Dominic’s closed door.
She rapped her knuckles against the rustic wood twice. “Dominic?”
No answer.
Which meant he was either in the bathroom, still asleep, or dying on the bed from sickness.
On the sure gut feeling it was the latter, she pushed on the handle, opening the door.
The navy curtains of the two windows opposite were still drawn. But the light from behind her and little glimmers from the sides of the drapes illuminated the queen-size bed tucked in the right corner against the ensuite wall just before the built-in cupboard alcove.
Rayna’s heart plunged to the pit of her stomach.
“Dominic,” she uttered in a panic and ate up the strides towards his bed.
He lay sprawled on his back, his head turned away from her, the blanket tangled around his hips.
His T-shirt had ridden up his abdomen where one hand rested, his skin coated in a damp sheen.
Other than his rasping breaths, coming strained and slow, he was entirely unresponsive to the sound of his name.
“Dominic,” she called again. “Bloody woods. Dominic.”
From close up, she could see he was trembling even though he was sweating a lot. His lashes flickered weakly upon hearing his name the third time.
Bending over him, she pressed the back of her fingers to his neck and swore under her breath.
He let out a shuddering exhale at her touch and began rotating his head, his hair slick and spiking in different directions. His eyes were barely open a sliver. “Rayna…” he croaked.
“You’re burning up,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he whispered, moving his trembling hand from his stomach towards her fingers.
“No, you’re not fine, you idiot. You’re ill,” she bit out. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call for me? This is why—fuck, wait there.”
She went straight to the bathroom and came back out with a digital thermometer and a cold, wet flannel just wrung enough so it wasn’t dripping over the latte carpet.
“Keep still,” she said after powering the device on, then held it to his forehead.
“Nothing wrong,” he rasped just as the thermometer beeped.
“What the fuck do you mean nothing wrong?” She showed him the digital face. “You have close to a thirty-nine-degree fever, Dominic. Any higher, and I would have had to rush you to the lab infirmary.”
He made a gruff sound of complaint. “Too loud.”
A pang of sympathy echoed in her chest, but she was bloody annoyed with him, annoyed with herself too for not having investigated the signs she’d seen last night further. She shouldn’t have let him leave like that. He’d spent the whole night suffering because she had.
“Good,” she grumbled quietly and placed the thermometer on his bedside cabinet by a lamp, clock, and half a bottle of water.
“This is your own fault. You shouldn’t have been so stubborn last night.
” She sat herself on a bent knee beside him, spreading the flannel open over one palm.
“I could’ve given you some medicine, and you wouldn’t be feeling so shit right now. ”
She went to press the wet cloth to his face, but he caught her wrist and stopped her.
Dominic gave a small shake of his head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? I need to wipe you down and then strip you out of your clothes. Now.”
She tried to pull his hand off, but his shaking fingers squeezed her wrist. “I do not want you to touch me.”
For some reason, his statement made her skin sting in anger. “Stop being ridiculous. It’s my responsibility to take care of you, and I have to touch you to do that.”
“No. I do not want…to be your responsibility.”
“Well, you are.”
“No. Please.” His gravelly voice cracked on his plea.
A set of sharp claws dug into Rayna’s chest, curling into the muscle behind her rib cage.
It wasn’t guilt, not quite sympathy either. It almost kind of hurt, but she couldn’t explain why. Only it made her shoulders fall and mouth twist to the side as she stared at the pained pinch between his thick brows.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I have to. Even if it’s against your consent.”
“Ray—”
“Just this once. It’ll make you feel a bit better.”
She unfastened his fingers from her wrist and kept hold of his hand as she pressed the towel to his forehead, covering his eyes. He released a rough, shuddering exhale, his fingers curling over hers, and she wiped down his temple and around the side of his whiskered face.