Chapter 8
Arax
Everything was a blur, shades of grey and white and nothing more. I struggled to open my eyes. My whole body felt heavy and immobile, and my head was pounding.
“She’s waking up,” someone said. They were too loud.
I heard beeping resonating in my head, a gong being banged repeatedly in my ear.
I could hear myself groaning but the sound burned in my throat.
I forced my eyes open and regretted it. It was so bright.
The world was too bright. I closed them again and sank back into myself struggling to feel something other than agony.
Everything hurt. What was happening to me?
“Easy, you’re okay,” someone said gently.
The sound forced my eyes back open, and colors and shapes slowly came into focus. I was lying in a bed, in a room. It had windows. That was all I could comprehend. I tried to move my head, but it felt like it was in a vise. Tried to move my arms. They were trapped. Legs, the same. Nothing worked.
I saw a figure come into view and take form. It was a man. Blue eyes stared at me. I stared back.
“How are you feeling?” the man asked.
I tried to answer, but pain shot through my body. My insides were being twisted apart, and I let out a mangled, hoarse cry.
The beeping increased, and with each beep, my head vibrated with a dull ache. My brain was on fire.
“Someone get the doctor!” Blue Eyes said. His voice compounded the ache in my head, booming off of the walls and deadening what I had left of my senses.
“I’m here. The morphine has worn off.”
The beeping continued its torture. My body stung as though it were being burned alive. All of a sudden, relief flooded me like a gentle wave, and I melted. Then… darkness.
I woke up groggy and discombobulated. What the hell happened?
I thought. I looked downward and realized I could move my neck.
I didn’t recognize the room and started to panic.
I went to sit up but was painfully pulled back.
I glanced around and saw I was hooked up to multiple devices and an IV. I was in a hospital.
I groaned, then sighed in relief when it didn’t burn. I detected movement outside the door and noticed I was being watched, and a second later, a man walked in. Blue Eyes. I recognized him from before. I was gradually becoming more alert.
He was handsome—thick, sandy-blond hair with those bright-blue eyes. He was tall and had a nice build. His smile was friendly, almost goofy, yet he had a self-assurance to him I immediately liked, the kind that was charming without the conceit.
“She has returned to the world,” he said, greeting me.
“Where am I, and who are you?” I asked, finding my voice.
“I’m Drake, and that’s Dorian outside,” he answered. “And you’re in the hospital.”
“I can see that,” I said, getting somewhat irritated. “Why?”
“Why? Because you fell down the mountain. How you didn’t break every bone in your body, I don’t know.”
He went still. “You’re getting a visitor,” he said after a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asked and pressed a button. The back of the bed lifted upward slowly, putting me in a more upright position.
I looked away. “What hospital is this? What city am I in? How did I get here? Who’s coming to visit me? How long have I been here?”
“You’re safe.” He smiled. “It’s been over a week since you got here,” he replied uselessly.
There was movement at the door once again and another man appeared, his back toward us. Dean or Darren, whatever his name was, grinned at me and walked toward him.
The man turned and walked in, and I couldn’t help but stare at him in awe.
He was quite possibly the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.
Gorgeous, because handsome was too weak a word, and this man…
He was the stuff of myths. Though a touch on the baggy side, the black shirt he wore did little to conceal the muscle that made up his mass or take away from his height or hide his tanned, olive skin complimented by his long, thick, dark hair that framed a jawline one only read about in romance novels.
His face, beautiful but unreadable, spoke a thousand lost languages at once.
Lips, full tempting, but intimidating, were flattened into a near-snarl.
Hard eyes, deep-set, their color indiscernible beneath a veil of long lashes and naturally arched, thick dark brows, assessed both myself and my blue-eyed companion.
They flitted between us once, and narrowing, settled back on me.
It was disconcerting, yet I was flattered.
Unlike Blue Eyes, who had taken a seat, he chose to stand, scowling. His enormity didn’t just take up the room, it impinged on the whole of the building. He couldn’t have been much older than thirty, but he was so magnanimous, no one needed to tell me that this man was the one in charge.
“Name?” he asked, with no greeting or introduction.
I snapped out of my daze and went to answer, only to realize he wasn’t talking to me.
“Araxia Ayla Arevin, aged twenty-six,” Blue Eyes said, in an almost-mocking, game-show-host tone. How the hell? I remembered I had been hiking and had had a small backpack with me. These bastards must have found it and gone through my things.
I looked at Romance-Novel Hercules, whose scowl seemed permanently plastered on his face. I answered it with one of my own.
“What were you doing here? This is private property,” he said rather aggressively.
His unwarranted rudeness made me go on the defense, so rather than answer right away, I took my time and just stared him down.
I must have annoyed him to the point where he moved to drop gracefully into the seat next to Blue Eyes and as he did, I caught a whiff of his cologne.
It was perfection. Divine. A combination of winter snow melting into fresh, damp earth.
Green, masculine, and uncannily familiar.
I took as deep a breath as my injuries would allow.
My ribs did not enjoy this, but the payoff was worth it.
The scent was inviting, soothing, I didn’t realize I had closed by eyes as I breathed him in but when I opened them again, he was staring back and scowling even harder.
It made me squirm, and so I went on the offensive.
“I don’t actually know where ‘here’ is,” I spat. “I was attacked by wolves and must have missed the private property sign, as I was too busy being scared shitless.”
“You’re trespassing,” he replied apathetically. He crossed one leg over the other and his cologne wafted over again. I took a quick inhale; I didn’t know how or why but it was almost like it was giving me some much-needed energy to tell him off.
“Put up a damn sign then, so I know next time,” I said sarcastically.
Blue Eyes snorted with laughter.
Romance Novel shot him an impatient look and then turned his eyes back toward me. “You weren’t in any real danger,” he said. Was he serious?
“Oh, my mistake. Those were friendly wolves.” I rolled my eyes. “I was hiking. I got attacked, fell, and ended up here. That’s the truth.”
He continued staring at me. “Araxia, is it?” he asked after a moment.
“No,” I replied shortly. He was saying it wrong.
“It’s not ay-racks or ah-racks. It’s pronounced ah-rocks. I go by Arax.” I decided to push it even more. “And while we’re at it, my middle name isn’t ‘ay-la’ it’s ‘eye-la.’”
“Our apologies.” This genteel response took me by surprise.
“And you are?” I asked when he didn’t say anything further.
He hesitated a moment. “Konstantine,” he finally answered. What a name, so Greek, so fitting.
I turned toward Blue Eyes. “Sorry, I forgot yours,” I said to him.
“Wow, really?’ He shook his head, pretending to be offended. “Drake.”
“Right, Drake,” I said. “You were here when I woke up the first time.”
“Man, were you out of it.” He laughed.
“I was in a lot of pain.”
“I know, but you and your mouth seem to have recovered nicely,” he remarked, then winked at me.
I grinned back automatically, then frowned again. “So,” I said, turning back toward Konstantine. “Are you going to kill me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “No.”
“Are you going to have me arrested?”
“No.”
I exhaled my tension out slowly. These people didn’t seem dangerous, at least.
“Then am I good to go?” I asked hopefully.
Konstantine motioned toward Drake, who stood and pressed the call button next to my bed. A few moments later, an older man walked in. He was wearing a white coat and had an air of authority to him beyond just that of a doctor.
“Hello.” He nodded at them and turned his attention to me. “Araxia, right? Am I saying that correctly?”
“Hi, it’s just Arax,” I answered.
“Well, hello, Arax. I’m Doctor Distefano. I see you’re feeling better.”
“I am,” I said, though everything still hurt—including my head, which was beginning to pulse achingly.
“Arax was wondering when she might be able to leave,” Drake told him.
“You are healing well,” Dr. Distefano told me. “But it’s that head injury I’m worried about.”
I put my hand up and felt the layers of wrapping where there should have been hair.
He turned toward Konstantine. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to keep her here under observation for another day or two, just to be sure.”
Konstantine nodded.
“Is that all right with you, Arax?” the doctor asked me.
I nodded as well, not feeling like I had any other choice in the matter. Danny knew where I was, more or less, and according to these people, it had only been a week. I could suffer a few more days until I got better.
“Furthermore, I would suggest you stay close by for another week, just in case,” he stated.
Another week? Here? That was pushing it, seeing as I didn’t even know where I was.
“Why?” I asked him. “I have my own doctor. I can follow up with her.”
“You’ve suffered a pretty serious concussion, among other things. We’ve kept you sedated for some time now, to help with your recovery. I’m concerned if you leave before I give you the all-clear, you might have complications,” he explained.