by Melissa Haag
* * * *
I woke several more times, only drinking a bit of water before passing out again. Each time the pain in my head decreased a little until, finally, I woke with more clarity.
“Water,” I whispered into the darkness.
Again, an arm snaked under me and lifted me for a cool drink. I drained the cup. The arm lowered me, and I settled back onto the pillow. My ears rang in the silence.
“How long have I been sleeping?” I asked just to hear something.
Instead of an answer, I got a tight hug.
“I really hope you’re Clay,” I whispered breathlessly.
His gruff laugh wrapped around me, just as comforting as his hug.
“Can we turn on a light?”
He moved away from me, and I took the opportunity to sit up a bit and lean against the headboard. My legs still felt shaky.
The bedside lamp clicked on. I squinted against the light and regretted my request. My head ached slightly. I rubbed a hand over my face as my eyes watered. A tangle of my hair got in my way. I brushed it aside and felt the knots in it.
Blinking several times, I finally focused on Clay. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn outside. Maybe I hadn’t been out that long after all. He stood near the bed and watched me with a tender, relieved expression.
“Clay, I think I know what’s going on. Can you help me up? I really need a shower.” And a toothbrush.
He shook his head.
“Clay, now’s not the time to put your foot down. This is really important.” I tried to sit all the way up, but couldn’t. My head started to throb again. “Okay. Maybe you’re right,” I mumbled as I rubbed my forehead. “Can you get me something for my head, please? It feels like it going to explode all over the walls.”
Clay leaned over me, smoothed back my hair, kissed my forehead, then left the room. The guest apartments didn’t have any type of medicine in them because the werewolves typically didn’t need it.
I waited until I heard the outside door close, then I struggled up again. My comment about my head was absolutely true. Therefore, I stayed in a sitting position for a minute before attempting to swing my legs off the bed. But headache or not, I needed to speak to Luke.
Reaching for my bag, I smiled again at Clay’s packing. Flannel pants and a t-shirt were perfect, after all.
