Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
SEB
I catch Zoe before she hits the floor, and I immediately sense something is different this time. This is so much worse than before. She’s not breathing, and my inner dragon is losing his shit, sending cascading scales up and down my arms.
“Zoe! Come on, Zoe, don’t do this to me.” I pinch her nose, tip her head back, and fill her lungs with two breaths, then follow up with some chest compressions.
She gasps like she’s swum from the bottom of the deep end and just reached the surface. Thank the creator. I draw her into my arms, relieved when she continues to breathe. In and out. In and out. My dragon is still on high alert, but she’s with us.
Something warm and wet spreads out across my lap, and I realize she’s soiled herself again.
And her skin is ice-cold. She shivers in my arms, and then her eyes roll back in her head and her entire body seizes.
I hold her on her side. Hold her hair back as she purges everything from her stomach, and it comes up black as tar. Fuck.
“Should I call 9-1-1?” Patrick asks. He’s standing in the doorway, clearly horrified. I’m not sure he’s ever looked so pale. “Or I could call Morwyn.”
“No. She’s going to be okay. Only, can you clean this up after we leave this room?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And we’ll take food and drink in the bedroom in an hour or so. Lots of calories.”
He nods. “I’ll take care of it.”
I lift her off the floor and start for the bedroom, but Patrick stops me as I’m passing him. “You have calls from Crew and from Ellison.”
“Tell Crew I have the flu and I’ll call him back as soon as I’m well enough. Tell Ellison to come as soon as he can and to bring Lucas.”
Patrick nods and heads for the closet where we keep the cleaning supplies. I carry my mate into my bedroom and then the bathroom. When we’re beyond this, I’m taking her on a real date. Hawaii or Europe. Anywhere but this fucking bathroom.
I fill the tub with hot water because she’s still shivering, even though her skin is slick from sweat. While it’s filling, I undress her and then myself. We both sink into the tub.
I didn’t do it this way last time. Before she was my mate, I cleaned her up quickly and efficiently while all my clothes were on.
This time, I climb into the tub with her, sinking deep into the water with her head on my chest. Now that she’s my mate, the skin-to-skin will heal her faster, and I can monitor her better with my arms around her.
I soap up the bath sponge I keep on the side of the tub and start running it over her arms, her chest, her stomach, the rest of her. Steam rises up around us. She’s finally stopped shivering.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ll take care of you. Whatever it takes.”
I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes, and that’s when my dragon sends me a picture of the deconstructed ring.
What the hell? I open my eyes again. My beast is restless, but for once, it’s not after sex.
He’s as concerned for our mate as I am. When I close my eyes again, I see the ring again—not just as it exists in this world but the view from the Gold Room, through Zoe’s magic.
“Creator, bless! She showed the ring to you.” Carefully, I stand from the tub and take Zoe with me.
I have her dressed in a pair of my pajamas and tucked into bed in a matter of minutes.
Once I’m sure her breathing is even and she’s sleeping peacefully, I rush to the office and retrieve her drawing along with a blank piece of paper and a pencil.
I return to the bedroom and grab a large book from the bookshelf to use as a lap desk.
I never work in here, but I won’t leave her.
I place the blank paper over hers so that I can see her drawing under mine, and I start to add to it.
This would go faster if my dragon could hold a pencil.
He remembers what Zoe told him clearly, but he can only show me a little at a time.
We are one being. One soul. But he’s an aspect of myself that lives in a deep part of my consciousness.
I can hear what he thinks, but in order for me to see what he remembers, I have to enter a state that’s something like daydreaming, then come back into my conscious mind to transmit what I saw to paper.
It’s a slow and daunting process, but by the time Patrick comes in with a tray, I’ve made incredible progress.
“Ellison and Lucas will be here in the morning. They say they have news,” Patrick says.
“Great,” I say with dread. I’m not sure I want to know what their news is. I have enough to think about with my mate sleeping much too soundly in my bed.
I turn my attention back to my drawing, but Patrick clears his throat.
“Is there something else, Patrick?”
“Zoe left this in the dining room. It’s been…busy.” He hands me her phone. I can’t open it, but there are twenty-four missed messages on the screen. All I can see is the top one. Why aren’t you responding to Jeremy’s texts? What is going on? Call me right away.
I frown and look up at Patrick. “I’ll handle it,” I say evenly.
He removes the dome from the tray, offers me a shallow bow, and leaves.
My inner dragon goes eerily calm as we look down at the phone.
We are of one mind on this. I don’t know who Jeremy is or why Zoe’s parents want her to call him, but she is mine.
And I’m a jealous and possessive bastard.
I don’t deny it for a second. Mom and Dad, I’d love to know.
Jeremy needs to find another hobby, and it’s time they understood as much.
I rise from the chair and walk to Zoe’s side, positioning the phone in front of her face to unlock it. It takes me a few tries, but it works. Then I hustle out of the room and call her mother back.
“Zoe? Thank the goddess.”
“No. Actually, this is Sebastian York, partner at Full Throttle Records.”
“O-oh. Hello.”
“Are you Zoe’s mother?”
“Yes, I’m Anita Willow.”
“Nice to meet you, Anita. I—”
“Is Zoe okay?”
“Why wouldn’t she be okay?”
“She hasn’t been answering her calls, and she didn’t return multiple texts. Also, if she’s okay, why would you be calling us?” I have to hand it to the woman; she actually sounds convinced of her own bullshit.
“I’m calling because it’s three o’clock on a Friday, and Zoe is busy in the recording studio.
Very busy. Your daughter is extremely talented, Mrs. Willow.
I’m afraid we have to make use of the studio when scheduled, which means it will be impossible for her to call or text you during work hours and sometimes after, if she’s recording late.
She noticed your repeated calls and wanted me to return your call to make sure you and her father were okay. ”
“Oh.” The woman sounds disappointed. I release a slow breath.
That “oh” says it all. Her parents expect her to fail.
They expect her to fall back into the mistakes of her past. I hate that.
Parents should love you unconditionally.
They should believe in you when no one else does. And this witch is falling way short.
“So, are you both okay?” I ask her.
“Yes, yes, we’re fine.”
“No emergency, then? I see twenty-four messages from you and someone named Jeremy on her phone. Is this Jeremy having an emergency?”
“No. No. He’s her doctor. Just checking in with her.”
“Did she have an appointment or something?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then, could you please share with Jeremy that Zoe Willow is a very busy recording artist, and unless there is an emergency, please do not expect an immediate return call or text.”
“Okay.” A pocket of silence opens between us, and I surmise that Anita Willow is trying her best not to voice her true worries to her daughter’s new boss.
I throw her a bone. “She also said to tell you we’ll see you this weekend for Beltane.”
“We?”
“Oh, I’m coming with her. It will be a pleasure to meet you in person.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. I’m so glad you can make it.”
“I’ll relay your excitement to Zoe as soon as she’s done recording.
Buh-bye.” I end the call, my blood still coursing hot in my veins.
I stride back to the bedroom and quietly place the phone down on the end table next to her.
As I watch her, a soft niggle at the back of my brain wonders if I’ve done the right thing lying to her mother.
After all, Zoe is currently passed out from the very gold dust her parents and doctor fear she’s using.
Worse, I didn’t have Zoe’s permission to access her phone or call her mother.
But I dismiss the intrusive thoughts almost immediately. No one gets to snap their fingers and call my mate like a dog. She isn’t theirs any longer. She’s mine. And I will care for her. Besides, now that I’ve completed the drawing of the ring, she might not even need to use again.
I lower myself back into the chair and watch her sleep, watch her breathe. I’ll keep her safe. She’s mine now.