Page 52 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
I glance down at the pill. “What is this?”
“Something to get your temperature down.”
When I stare at it suspiciously, Ras clicks his tongue. “For fuck’s sake, Gemma. What do you think I’d give you?”
“Cyanide.”
“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he mutters. “If I wanted to kill you, I had plenty of opportunities to do so before you regained consciousness.”
He has a point. I swallow the pill and chase it with more water.
“What did you do to make Papà leave me here?”
“Doctor’s orders.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Papà would not have let a doctor prevent me from leaving.
Ras’s jaw hardens. “We told your father that you were too sick to travel and that we wouldn’t allow you off the property until you’ve been cleared by a medical professional.”
“And Papà agreed?”
“It wasn’t a negotiation.”
I clutch my head with my hands. “No, no, no. I’m screwed. Papà will be furious. There’ll be hell to pay when I get back to New York.”
God, I can’t even imagine the speech I’ll get from Mamma. To make myself such an inconvenience for everyone will rank high on her list of my biggest fuckups in life. And Papà won’t be happy about me being the cause of Vale and Dem telling him what to do.
Shit, shit, shit!
When Ras doesn’t say anything, I tear my gaze off the floor and look at him. He drags his palm over his chin and gives me a look so pregnant with meaning it makes my stomach drop.
“You mean whenweget back to New York,” he finally says in a low voice.
“What?”
“I’m taking you back. And I think I’ll stay for a while.”
* * *
I wake up in the middle of the night, the darkness so thick it makes me question if all light on Earth was permanently extinguished while I slept. My hands pad over the bed. They’re sticky with sweat. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, but when I don’t find it, I start crying.
The bed dips, and there are suddenly arms around me. “Shh, you’re okay.” Someone’s rubbing the small of my back. “Do you need to throw up?”
“No. I’m scared. It’s so dark—”
A light comes on. For a moment, its appearance is so shocking that it steals my breath.
We’re good. It’s all good.
“Breathe, Gemma.” Warm palms squeeze my shoulders. “It was just a fever dream.” There’s an intentional brush over my forehead. “You’re still a bit hot. But at least you’re not burning up like before.”
That deep, pleasant voice. I know that voice.
I… I think I like that voice.
The strange, muddled thoughts inside my head take a back seat as I try to figure out who’s helping me.
There’s a sense of déjà vu when I find a warm hazel gaze on at me.
