Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Gary—I've learned his name now—sometimes comes in and checks Melina's temperature, and he frowns every time. "It's bound to break soon," he tells me. "We just have to wait."
I want to snap at him for saying something as foolish and unhelpful as that, but Gary has barely left the clinic since I arrived. He is as tired as my Melina, yet he continues to help the sick, his demeanor as cheerful as ever, and earns my grudging admiration.
I've sent six scavenging teams out, along with Vaan and Gwen, who volunteered to travel “west” and see what they could find. They took their son with them, and every now and then, Tunjozefren reaches out and pricks at my mind from a great distance. It's impressive, the range he has, and if I weren't so focused on Melina, I might be excited about what that could mean for my plans for the Rift.
As it is, all I care about right now is that Melina gets better.
Instead, she sweats and shivers and eats less than a bird.
A day passes. Then, another. Melina's lips are cracked and dry, and when I try to encourage spoonfuls of broth or water into her, she's not interested. She sleeps for longer and longer, and Gary continues to take her temperature, his expression worried. He rummages through the medicine cabinet that Melina keeps in her office, as if searching for something that was overlooked. I hold my mate and press her against my chest, terrified.
It feels as if she's slipping away from me and I'm helpless to do anything about it. Is this why Salorians don't take a mate? Right now I would pluck my heart out of my chest if it would stop the pain of watching her wither away in front of me. I hate the feeling of helplessness. I hate that I cannot help her or save her. What good is my strength of mind, or my rule over the humans, if I cannot save one fragile female?
Occasionally, Melina will wake up and talk to me for a few minutes, but it's never for very long. I keep expecting her to get angry at me, to demand that I leave. I won't, of course, but I expect her to ask it all the same. She never does, though. She presses herself against me, burrowing against my warm skin. "I'm sorry to be such trouble," she whispers on the second day I remain at her side. "I know you hate it when people are weak."
"You are no trouble at all," I promise my beloved mate, stroking her sweat-damp hair back from her face. "And you are not weak. You are just sick. Can you eat?"
She shakes her head and just moves closer to me. "Later."
"A few bites," I protest. "Just a little. For me."
But she simply tucks her face against my neck and goes back to sleep, leaving me with increasingly worried thoughts. She can't keep going like this. Her strength will disappear entirely.
I don't know what I will do if I lose her. Somehow all my plans of sealing the Rift, of ruling Fort Dallas, of creating my own empire here in this world, mean nothing if she is not here. I would give it all up and live under the yoke of the monster if it would spare my mate. I would return to my world a reviled outcast, if it meant that Melina would be safe on this side. How do I save her? How do I prevent her from slipping away?
The scents in the sickroom change as some patients leave, their fevers broken even as Melina's rages on. My scouts return with bad news—there is no medication to be found without venturing even farther out. Vaan and Gwen find nothing as well.
I stroke Melina's arm and watch her as she sleeps, trying not to despair.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
AZAR
"How is she?" a voice asks, rousing me from a fitful slumber.
I open my eyes, protectively curling around my mate even as my gaze focuses on a scarred human face. Rachel. Her mate is with her, standing guard behind his female, their child nestled against his chest in a sling. He wears a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and the female has her hands shoved into a thick jacket to insulate against the cold weather.
Rachel sits in a chair near the cot, peering down at Melina, who continues to slumber in my arms, too tired to even rouse. "I heard she wasn't doing great. And the staff back home said you were still here. Everyone's worried about her." She pauses and then adds, "And you too, honestly."
I run my fingers over Melina's cheek. Still warm, which feels normal for me but is too warm for a healthy human. "She is…not well."
"Shit," Rachel breathes, worry on her face. "She didn't look so good when I was here a few days ago and I didn't know what to think. Will she pull through?"