Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
“Man, I gotta say,” Mason moves to Tyson and shakes his hand. “I don’t blame you. I woulda done the same. I know that now. I’d have done the exact same.”
I don’t know what that’s about, but right now my concern is solely focused on my sister.
Mason’s voice drops and Tyson says something while they shake hands, but I tune them out as I phone my mother.
I’m pacing, hand on my neck when it dawns that I’m waking up those crazy sensations on my neck, so I pull my hand away and catch his gaze. He’s giving me a cocky smile. I poke my tongue out at him before I turn the other way.
***
It’s been a couple hours and though she hasn’t yet roused, her temperature is down. She keeps getting chills, so I’m not satisfied and have made it clear I want her at a hospital.
Tyson is on the bed with her, trying to ward off her chills, apparently raising his body temperature for her. That’s a convenient skill to have and he doesn’t look too comfortable, but despite his distress over my sister, that doesn’t mean I’m not shooting him the evil eye every time I get a chance. His mother is being kind, seems competent, but nothing about this situation sits right with me.
Mason is staying close. He’s brought me water, offered to send someone for food, which I declined. And to make things worse, he’s refused all five times I’ve asked to give me my damn phone.
“Who do you think you are, keeping my phone from me?” I demanded earlier.
“I’m your husband,” he responded, deadpan and filled with cockiness.
And did it ever piss me off.
“Pff. Even if you were, which you’re not, do you think that makes it okay to keep my phone from me? Is this the 1950s and some strange time warp where not only do men rule, but where a woman’s consent means nothing?”
“You threatening to call the police and expose me and my pack is good enough reason for me to keep the phone out of reach. But as your man…” His voice dropped and his expression went even more serious, “It’s also my job to keep you from things that are bad for you. Like being forced to see that the loser you were engaged to is probably still calling repeatedly. I’m this close to blocking him on your phone.”
“Do not touch my phone settings!”
He raised his eyebrow at me and for some reason it made my heart skip a beat.
“You wanna talk to him?” he asked.
And his tone felt a little dangerous.
“He will be deleted, blocked, and forgotten once I get my stuff back,” I informed. “Not because you want that, because I do.”
“Then why do you need your phone?”
“Because it’s my phone. Go pack it up and bring it to me.”
“Not goin’ anywhere right now.”
“Grr.” I went back to ignoring him after that. Or trying to.
***
It’s got to be somewhere near morning when Mom rushes in with two giant hotties behind her. I know their names are Riley and Lincoln because I heard Mason on the phone with them, asking them to wait for her at the gas station and to bring her here.
One looks like a cleaned-up version of Tyson, super-hot and muscled, tall, but with short hair. Maybe they’re brothers. The other is the definition of a lumber-snack. Bearded. Bulging muscles. Flannel shirt, jeans, and construction boots. And really warm eyes. I’m pissed, but even I can appreciate male beauty. Is it a rule that all supernatural people are hot or something? Because I haven’t seen one single person here so far that’s unattractive or even just average.
“Mom!” I rise from the couch in the waiting room where I’m sitting beside Mason.
We hug and then I gesture toward where Ivy still sleeps.
“What’s happening?” Mom asks, approaching my sister.
“I’m trying to raise her body temperature. She’s got severe chills,” Tyson answers.
His mom then speaks up. “I’m Catrina Savage, this is Tyson. Ivy’s temperature is back to normal, but her fever medication will wear off soon so that’ll be telling.”
“I’m Kathleen Brennan. What can I do?” Mom asks.
“All we can do is wait.”
“Shouldn’t we get her to a hospital?” Mom checks.
“If her fever spikes within the next bit, yes. If not, we keep watching closely. Her temperature has been normal for two hours.”
A phone rings.
Catrina excuses herself, leaving the room with the phone to her ear.
“I think we should get her to a hospital right now,” I announce, again.
“Let’s give it a bit and see,” Mom suggests.
“Even though her temperature is down, we don’t know why it spiked. We don’t know why this is happening. We need a hospital, you people!” I’m getting loud. Maybe partly because I want Mom to take my cue that there’s good reason for animosity here.