by Vivian Wood
Fourteen
Death
117
Fifteen
Splintering, white-hot pain, radiating out from the center of… something. It stopped, then started, jolting, thrusting, vibrant pain. Pain, silence. Pain, silence. Then everything was gone, pulled away; the pain, sensation of any kind. It was all just pure, endless darkness, on and on and on. It was comforting, in a way.
He was pretty sure that he must be very, very dead. He was aware on some level, but couldn’t feel himself, his body. His thoughts drifted sluggishly, wondering how he’d come to be here. There was something he needed to remember, something he cared about…
If only he could think. Why was he dead? He wasn’t sad about it or anything. He’d known his death was coming. So why was he so unsettled, unable to let himself slip away? He needed to focus, think of what was important to him.
After a moment, he got an image. Dark chestnut curls. Beautiful eyes, just the color of a gathering storm. A beautiful heart-shaped face, lips trembling, eyes wide with fear.
Mate.
The pain came again, stronger this time. It sizzled and electrified him, and suddenly he felt himself once more, felt it as he struggled to draw in a breath. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t move, but he could feel the iciness of his limbs and lips, could feel the sweat that slicked his skin, could feel the pressure on his chest, feel bones breaking under an unbearable pressure.
When the blackness took hold this time, he let it pull him under.
118
Sixteen
Wyatt groaned. Pain pulled him up from the blackness, shoved itself into every tiny crack in his soul. He was pretty sure that death was supposed to be peaceful, but this hurt like a motherfucker. He focused for a moment and realized that he could feel his body this time. He tested this out by moving his fingertips and toes, then licking his dry, cracked lips. His limbs felt heavy, too heavy to sit up just yet.
His hearing came back with a soft pop, the soft whir and beep of machines, the sound of voices nearby. Wyatt opened his mouth, his tongue like sandpaper, and he desperately wished for some water. He tried to open his eyes, but they were sealed tight.
With great difficulty, he lifted his hand to his face, feeling two pieces of tape that held his eyelids closed. He plucked at them, giving a sigh of relief when a bright white room came into his field of vision. A bit blurry, but growing clearer by the moment. Definitely a hospital room.
He tried to sit up, and found that he had numerous IV lines on both arms, anchored at his wrists, his inner arms, the tops of his hands. Clear fluid in most, but one definitely line definitely looked like blood.
“Mmmph,” was all he got out, because his mouth was too dry, his tongue too heavy to speak.
He pushed himself up, trying to sit once more, but pain lanced through his body. He cried out, surprised and dismayed.
“Mr. Beran?” said a pretty brunette in blue scrubs. “I’m Anna, your nurse. Please don’t strain yourself, you’ve just had major surgery. Let me put some pillows behind you if you want to sit up.”
Wyatt squinted at the nurse as she approached, snagging a couple of pillows from the chair beside his bed. She put the pillows behind his back and raised the mechanical hospital bed to a sitting position, but Wyatt couldn’t repress a moan despite her gentle ministrations.
“I’ll get the doctor, okay?” she said once she’d settled him in.
Wyatt tapped her arm and pointed to the water pitcher on the bedside table, grateful when she poured some in a cup and helped him drink a little.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yes,” Wyatt rasped.
She turned to leave again, but Wyatt grabbed her wrist.
“Lucy. Where’s Lucy?” he croaked.
“Dr. Summers? She’s sleeping in the on-call room. I have to tell you, sir, I don’t know Dr. Summers personally, but you are one lucky duck. Your wife saved your life, Mr. Beran.”
Wife, Wyatt thought to himself.
“Your family is here, too,” the nurse said, pulling from his grasp and patting his arm. “I’ll let them know they can come see you once the doctor gives the okay.”
She moved the wheeled table closer to the bed and poured Wyatt some more water, then hustled off, closing the door behind her. The doctor appeared soon after.
“You had a very close call, Mr. Beran,” the older gentleman told him. “Three stab wounds to the lower back, one which damaged your kidney. You bled too much, too fast, and your heart stopped.Your wife administered CPR and kept you alive for almost twenty minutes before the ambulance arrived. We took you straight up to surgery when you got here, and saved your kidney.”
“How long do I have to be here? When I can I see my ma— my wife?” Wyatt corrected himself.
The doctor gave him a long look.
“You lost a lot of blood, and you’ll need to stay with us for at least a week while your wounds heal. As for your wife… I have to tell you, sir. Dr. Summers administered CPR for almost twenty minutes before the ambulance arrived. She saved your life. She also apparently nearly maimed one of the EMTs when they tried to separate you two,” the doctor told Wyatt, narrowing his gaze. “Dr. Summers is rather remarkable. I gather that you owe her quite a lot.”
“I know,” Wyatt said simply.
“Well, I’ve sent a nurse to get her. I won’t try keep you apart, wouldn’t want to be your wife’s next victim,” the doctor said with a sly smile.
“No. She’s scrappy,” Wyatt said, buoyed at the idea of seeing Lucy.
“Take care of yourself, Mr. Beran,” the doctor said. “I worked quite hard to stitch you back together.”
With that he was gone, and Lucy arrived only a couple of minutes later, looking exhausted and bedraggled but also more beautiful than Wyatt could even conceive. She half-skidded into the room, wearing rumpled scrubs, her curls sticking out wildly. The second she saw Wyatt sitting up, Lucy burst into tears.
“Luce,” Wyatt said, lifting an arm to invite her to sit with him.
“You!” she cried, sitting on the bed next to him and throwing her arms around his neck. “Never, ever do that to me again!”
“I’m sorry,” Wyatt said, bemused. “I didn’t mean to get hurt.”
“I thought I lost you,” Lucy whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck.
Wyatt inhaled deeply, finding comfort in her scent, in the warmth of her body next to his.
“Me too, baby,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t really remember what happened.”
Lucy bit her lip, shaking her head.
“I wish I could forget. You almost bled out right in my lap. It was terrible,” she told him.
“Thank you for saving me,” Wyatt said.
Lucy pulled back a little, giving him an odd look.
“Wyatt… you don’t have to thank me for that. I couldn’t let you die. You’re my mate,” she said, as if it was obvious.
“And my wife, I heard,” Wyatt said, a grin spreading across his face at her words.
Lucy blushed.
“Well, I had to tell them that we’re married so I could make medical decisions for you. I… I hope you don’t mind,” she said, looking sheepish.
Wyatt laughed at that.
“Not in the least. Especially since I’m going to make that a reality just as soon as we get out of here.”
Lucy flushed harder and leaned in for a kiss.
“I’d like that,” she said.
Wyatt hesitated, a sad thought drifting into his mind.
“What?” Lucy said. “Second thoughts already?”
“No,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “It’s just… When your stalker attacked me, I thought… I thought it was over. You’d be free, at least, once I died. I’ve seen that much. But now I guess we’re still in the same boat. Wondering when he’ll reappear.”
Lucy pulled away from him for a second, her expression turning scornful.
“I very much doubt that,” she said.
“
Lucy, I know you don’t trust my visions, but I know what happens in the future. I die,” Wyatt said, trying to keep his tone soft.
“You are an idiot,” Lucy growled. “If you weren’t so banged up, I’d punch you right now.”
“What?” Wyatt asked, taken aback. He’d never heard Lucy talk that way before.
“You did die. Right in front of me, in fact. Your heart stopped, and I had to break several of your ribs to get it started again,” she said, fresh tears forming in her eyes.
Wyatt opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say to that.
“Promise me,” Lucy whispered, linking her fingers with his, careful not to bump his IV. “Promise me you’ll never do that again. I thought…”
“I promise,” Wyatt said, ignoring his pain and wrapping her in his arms. “I love you, Lucy. Thank you for saving me.”
“I love you, too,” Lucy mumbled against his chest.
They stayed like that for a while, just appreciating each other. After a time, Lucy pulled back and looked up at Wyatt.
“Your family will want to see you,” she said.
“Luke and Aubrey?” Wyatt asked.
Lucy laughed.
“And about ten other people. All your brothers are here with their mates, and your parents are here too, of course.”
Wyatt’s brows shot up.
“How long have I been out?” he asked.
“A couple of days. I got to know your family a little, Luke introduced me.” Lucy hesitated. “I have to tell you, Wyatt… Luke told your brothers about the visions.”
“What? Why?” Wyatt demanded to know.
“I get the idea that several of them felt rather negatively toward you, honey,” Lucy said, licking her lips nervously. “I didn’t get the fully story.”
“Ah, yeah,” Wyatt said, closing his eyes. He was starting to feel very tired now, his pain increasing by the minute. “I might have done some things to warrant that.”
“Wyatt,” Lucy said. “Luke told them what happened. How you did all those things to save their mates. No one is angry at you, okay?”
“Mmmm,” Wyatt grunted. When Lucy shifted against him, he flinched.
“I’m going to get the nurse in here to give you some more morphine,” she said.
“Wait,” Wyatt said. Lucy paused, and he forced his eyes open again. “I meant what I said before. You’re my mate. We’re going to have the ceremony, sign the papers, all of that.”
Lucy gave him a soft smile.
“I know, baby,” she said, squeezing his fingers.
“Stay with me for just a minute?” Wyatt asked, unwilling to give her up even though he was already halfway asleep.
“Always,” Lucy said. She moved back into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.
Only then could Wyatt surrender to his exhaustion and pain, drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
119
Seventeen
Lucy stood in the bathroom of the new house she’d just bought with Wyatt. She shivered, wincing as she stood on the bright yellow tile floor, chilly against her feet. She still wasn’t quite used to the icy Chicago winter weather, something she and Lexie often bitched about when they had their weekly friend dates. They no longer worked at the same hospital, but Lucy was thrilled that they’d ended up in the same city.
Rubbing her arms, she stared down at the bathroom sink, then checked her watch for the fifteenth time. Wyatt would be home any minute, returning from a meeting at his office, and she didn’t want him to catch her unawares. Now that he was finally completely healed from the attack, the man moved like a damned cat, accidentally terrifying Lucy several times a day when he seemingly appeared from nowhere to nuzzle her neck or give her ass an appreciative pat.
Her watch beeped, and she grabbed the plastic stick from the sink. She didn’t look right away. She perched on the edge of the tub and took a deep breath, tears already threatening to overwhelm her. She was terribly emotional lately, though that could just be the stress of moving to a new city, starting a new job, and buying a house. It had been a long three months.
Steeling herself for disappointment, she looked down at the plastic stick. A blue plus sign stared up at her, and her hand started to tremble.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Lucy was floored, unsure how to feel. She was thrilled, but it was just so soon! Tears overtook her and she whimpered, dropping the test on the floor. What would her mate think? “Wyatt…”
“You rang?” came Wyatt’s voice through the door, a little muffled.
Lucy sniffled and sprang to her feet, flinging the door open. She threw herself into her mate’s arms, a sob escaping her chest.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Wyatt asked, perplexed.
“I’m p-pregnant,” Lucy moaned. “We’ve only been in this house a month!”
Wyatt pulled back.
“Hey, hey,” he said, brushing tears from her cheeks. “We talked about this, didn’t we? You decided to stop taking your birth control and let nature take its course. This isn’t really a surprise, is it?”
Lucy looked up at him.
“You’re not upset?” she asked, unsure.
“Hell, no,” Wyatt said, dropping a kiss on her lips. “I want everything you can give me, including lots and lots of curly-haired babies.”
Lucy smiled at that. Wyatt led her out of the bathroom to the kitchen, where he rummaged through the fridge and found the organic apple-ginger-kale juice that Lucy loved, pouring her a glass.
“As long as they have your eyes, I can accept the wild hair,” Lucy said as she accepted the juice. She took a sip and sighed
“I think they’ll be perfect no matter what,” Wyatt assured her. “So I guess that just leaves one thing, then.”
“What’s that?” she asked, setting her glass down and raising a brow.
To her complete shock, Wyatt dropped to one knee, producing a tiny, light blue and white box.
“Oh, shit,” Lucy said.
“Shhhh,” Wyatt hushed her. “We’ll pretend you didn’t say that when we tell people the story, okay?”
His grin relaxed her a little, though she was blown away by his lavish gesture.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Go ahead.”
Wyatt laughed, his blue eyes gleaming.
“Lucy Anne Summers, will you please, please do me the honor of being my mate?” he asked, opening the ring box to reveal an enormous sapphire flanked by glittering diamonds, all set in rose gold.
“I— of course I will!” she said, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. She brushed it away as Wyatt took her left hand, gently slipping the ring on her finger.
“We’ll do the papers as soon as we can, and then plan the ceremony. Whatever you want, Luce.”
“Anything I want?” she asked, teasing.
“For the woman who saved my life and made me complete? Anything at all,” Wyatt said, getting to his feet.
“At the moment, I think I’d like you to take me to the bedroom, Mr. Beran,” Lucy said, giving him a lascivious grin.
“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Beran.”
Wyatt swept her up in his arms and carried her away. Lucy’s heart was so full of Wyatt, and of the new life growing inside her. She held on tight to her new mate, and she knew that she must be the luckiest girl in the entire world.
Epilogue
Lucy woke in the dead of night. She’d dreamed of the sound of Wyatt’s voice, and it had sounded strange. Low, insistent, tense. She scrunched up her face and tried to remember what the dream had been about, but to no avail. She rolled over and frowned when she realized that her mate wasn’t in bed with her; Wyatt was such a sound sleeper, he hardly ever woke up in the middle of the night. Lucy’s first year as a fellow at her new hospital in Chicago wasn’t treating her sleep schedule a lot better than the last year of her residency had, but at least her mate was hardy enough to sleep through her constantly shifting wake-up times.
Climbing out of the big bed she and Wyatt
had picked out together upon their move to Chicago, Lucy stretched. She smiled to herself a little at the delicious soreness in her body; she’d asked Wyatt for a baby, and he was doing his best to make that happen. Mostly by pinning her against every available surface at every hour of the day and making her call out his name.
She blushed a little and scooped up the oversized t-shirt she often slept in, a cast off of Wyatt’s that he regularly delighted in stripping off her body. She pulled it on and padded out of the bedroom, thinking how glad she was that Wyatt had insisted on heated floors throughout their house to ward off the chill of Chicago winter nights just such as tonight.
When she hit the living room, at first she could only see the dazzling display of lights on the Christmas tree, shining down on the beautifully wrapped presents below. Her boxes were so fewer in number than Wyatt’s that Lucy was nearly certain that he’d gone against her demands and gotten her a new car. He was forever on about the supposed lack of safety of her beat up old Volvo. Almost as if to prove him right, the damn car had refused to start twice this week, prompting Lucy to choose between waking her mate for a ride to work or taking Uber, which Wyatt forbade because he didn’t want her in the car with a strange man. Or any man that wasn’t family, really. Her mate was quite possessive.
Yawning, Lucy halted midstep when she saw Wyatt standing by the front door. He was dressed only in a pair of striped pajama bottoms, facing away from her to look out the frosted glass of the front door, and Lucy took a second to admire his incredible physique. Then he turned, and the expression on his face sobered Lucy in an instant.
“There’s no more information right now?” Wyatt said. It sounded as though he was repeating someone else’s words back to them. He saw her and gave her a long look, letting her know he’d be off the phone as soon as he could. “Yeah. Well… Yeah, I understand, Gavin.”
Gavin? The two brothers were on much better terms now that Wyatt’s psychic abilities had been revealed as the reason for his meddling, but they still rarely spoke on the phone. Something was up, and it couldn’t be good if they were talking at such a late hour.
