Chapter Seventeen
Lia
Today is off to a miserable start.
Before my alarm went off, cramps tore through my uterus.
Good morning to me.
Then came the double-whammy of disappointment.
First: I stained the sheets. And of course, they’re white.
Second: I have zero pain meds.
Not even a stray ibuprofen hiding in a drawer.
After a sluggish shower and changing into clean clothes, I strip the bed and ball up the ruined sheets.
It’s barely 4:30 a.m., but I won’t have time to deal with this later.
Not with training. I pad down the hall, careful not to wake anyone, and load the washer with soap before the lid shuts louder than I’d like.
Normally, I’d be back in bed with a heating pad and a comfort read, letting a tragic love story distract me from my own misery.
Now I’m in an alternate reality where I’m bunking with men and training like a grunt while pretending my body isn’t betraying me.
I make my way to the pantry, opening cabinet after cabinet. The low light turns the shelves into a blur of useless inventory, like bandage boxes and vitamins.
Nothing helpful.
Accepting defeat, I sigh as my stomach growls loud enough to echo off the cabinets. If I can’t find pain meds, I can at least feed myself. I drop a blueberry bagel into the toaster and slump into a chair, resting my head on my arms while I wait.
A beep breaks the stillness, followed by the pop of the toaster. I drag myself up, toss the bagel onto a plate, wrestle the cream cheese lid open, and slather on a generous amount.
Bagel in hand, I shuffle back to my room. With my sheets still tumbling in the wash, I sink to the floor and lean against the bed. The first bite is better than it has any right to be. I finish it quickly, the small comfort offering brief relief to my otherwise aching body.
Exhaustion creeps in. My eyelids grow heavy. I let my head fall back against the mattress, and for a while, I drift.
Eventually, the nagging thought of laundry pulls me back to consciousness.
Groaning, I push myself upright. Vertigo rolls through me, and I clutch the bed frame.
Once the room stops spinning, I begin the slow, heavy trek toward the laundry room. My back aches with every step, and my limbs feel like they’re dragging through syrup as I haul the damp sheets from the washer and shove them into the dryer.
I turn around, ready to retreat to the safety of my room, but my face smacks into something solid. It isn’t a wall. It’s a person—solid enough that I bounce.
Large, steadying hands land on my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
Damp strands of his dark hair hang over his brows, his training gear already on.
I jerk a thumb toward the dryer. “Well, judging by the massive machine currently tumbling behind me, one would assume laundry.”
“At five-something in the morning?”
“There’s nothing I love more than the scent of detergent before sunrise.”
His gaze drops, lingering on my braless chest before trailing down the length of my bare legs. I lock my arms over my front, shifting awkwardly as a hot, prickly flush climbs up my neck.
“Since you’re up, we’ll start early.” He turns on his heel without another word.
I stare at his retreating back, wondering what the hell crawled up his ass this morning.
Back in my room, I move with the enthusiasm of a sloth, hauling on my leggings and sports bra. The spandex feels punishingly tight today. My midsection is tender and swollen, and I have to hiss a breath through clenched teeth just to wrestle the waistband into place.
When I shuffle into the training room, Kylo is a statue in the center of the mat—arms crossed, shoulders set.
“You did well yesterday, but it wasn’t enough. If someone like Marco attacks again, I want you to end it.”
“Okay.”
I just want to get this over with before my legs give out.
“What, no comeback?”
“Can we not drag this out?”
He smirks. “You want quick?”
He drives forward. I try to pivot, but I’m a beat too slow. My feet feel heavy, sluggish. He knocks me flat onto the mat, the impact rattling through my skull.
“Fantastic,” I mutter into the vinyl. “Let’s add spinal damage to the morning.”
“What was that?”
“I’m tired.” I wobble as I stand, the room doing a slow, lazy tilt.
“You’ll be tired in battle, too.”
He comes at me fast, a series of strikes and feints I usually anticipate with ease.
I miss every single one.
“Are you even trying?” he barks. “Do you want another Marco situation?”
“What? No.”
“Then fight like it.”
“I told you—I’m tired.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.” He brushes past me. “If you’re tired, we’ll hold off on combat and work on conditioning. Give me four laps.”
Four?
“I’m not caffeinated enough for this.”
“Four and a half,” he counters, his voice trailing behind me. “Unless you want to run five?”
Muttering every profanity I’ve ever heard under my breath, I break into a jog, moving as slowly as I can without actually stopping. My calves scream with each stride, but I keep my eyes on the floor and push forward.
By the time I round the corner on lap three, nausea rises. Sweat clings to my skin, beading on my forehead and sliding down my back. White spots flicker at the edges of my vision, and the room tilts.
The ground collides with me before I even register what’s happening. My knees and hands skid across the track as everything dims.
“Lia.” The voice is faint, echoing far away.
Kylo’s face wavers into view, blurry and haloed by dancing white spots. He’s so beautiful. Even now, with the room spinning.
“I’m beautiful?” he repeats, his laugh sounding oddly distorted.
Warmth surrounds me as I’m lifted, cradled against his chest. His heat seeps into my skin, calming the tremble in my limbs.
I’m lowered onto something soft.
Voices rise and fall, but they sound like waves crashing too far away. A strange lukewarmness spreads through me, rushing to my fingers, then my toes, leaving behind a persistent, buzzing tingle.
“Hey.” His presence brushes against my mind like a breeze. “Can you hear me?”
“I think so?”
“What’s wrong? Leo’s trying to heal you, but you’re unresponsive.”
Zayne’s voice cuts through the fog. “Move.”
“Why isn’t my healing working?” Leo asks.
“Lia’s not hurt,” Zayne says with measured assurance. “I think she’s dehydrated. I’ll start an IV.”
The shuffle of movement follows, marked by the click of opening cabinets and the rustle of bags. I fade in and out, catching only fragments of conversation and the fleeting sensation of something cool against my arm.
Zayne’s voice returns, clearer and closer than before. “Lia, are you responsive?”
I blink again, watching as the room slowly pieces itself back together. A blinding light is shoved into my face. I flinch, my hands rising to bat the glare away.
“I’m checking your pupils,” Zayne says. “Stop squirming.”
“It’s too bright,” I groan. I press my palms into my tired eyes, rubbing them until the spots begin to fade.
“You’re going to feel a prick,” he warns. “Ready on three. Three, two, one… now.”
A minor poke stings my arm at the same time the white haze recedes. Shapes take form: Zayne is crouched beside me, Leo is next to Zayne, and Kylo stands behind them, his arms tense at his sides.
My throat feels like I swallowed dust. “Can I have water?”
“Here.” Leo quickly twists the cap off a bottle and offers it to me. The bottle slips through my fingers, and before it can hit the ground—it levitates, stilled by an unseen pull of energy.
“Give it to me,” Kylo says, stepping in. He guides the bottle to himself, catches it with one hand, and brings it back to my lips.
“I can do it.” My fingers twitch as I reach for the bottle again. “I’ve got it.”
He shifts his gaze downward, glaring pointedly at my hands as they continue to shake against the blanket. He waits until I reluctantly wrap my fingers over his own to steady the bottle.
When he tilts the plastic against my mouth this time, I don’t pull away. Cool relief floods my throat as I take a few large gulps, my hands hitching a ride on his strength.
“Slow down,” he murmurs, pulling it back. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
Leo checks me over. “How do you feel?”
Like I should’ve stayed in bed.
“I’m not dizzy anymore,” I say, though the dull ache in my belly has sharpened into a deep throb. “Do you have any pain meds?”
“Pain meds?” Zayne asks. “You aren’t injured.”
“What did you do?” Leo turns on Kylo, his eyes flaring with a protective heat.
“Nothing happened. Training was normal.”
“She fainted. That’s not normal.”
A weary sigh escapes me as I press my palms against my face, trying to block out the light and their bickering. “Can someone please just get me something for my headache?”
“You shouldn’t have one. I healed your head in case you hit it when you fell. There’s no trauma left to cause pain,” Zayne says.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Headache.”
“We both know that’s a lie.”
I don’t want to broadcast this to a room full of men, but the pain is winning.
“I’m on my period. My cramps are unbearable, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Ah. That explains it,” Zayne says, turning to Kylo. “I don’t have pain medication in here. Grab some—”
Kylo disappears like a bullet before Zayne can finish his sentence.
Zayne calls after him, “Bring our magnesium supplements!” He rifles through his med kit. “This would’ve been helpful to know sooner.”
I press my forehead into the pillow and breathe.
“What day of your cycle are you on?” Zayne asks.
I glance at Leo, who looks completely unbothered, then back at Zayne. “Day one.”
“Is this level of dizziness normal for you during your cycle?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, my voice muffled by the pillow. “It was worse before.”
Zayne tilts his head, his curiosity piqued. “Before?”
“That’s not relevant—”
“He’s a doctor,” Leo cuts in. “Tell him. Do you want me to step out? Would that make you more comfortable?” He looks at Zayne. “She’s fine now, right?”
“Now that I know what actually caused her to faint, yes. Lia will be perfectly fine.”
Leo gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before straightening up. “I’ll check on you in a bit.”