Page 54 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
Hands appear at my shoulders, a pillow disappears, then reappears, and then I’m being tucked in.
“How did I end up here?” I mumble.
“Beats me.” Lips brush against the shell of my ear. “I’m wondering the same damn thing.”
CHAPTER12
GEMMA
I suck in a breath,my eyelids popping open. The remnants of my dream ping-pong around my head, disjointed images of fantastical, nonsensical things. Through the window, I see the beginnings of a new day and the glimmer of the sea. I think it’s dawn.
A soft snore travels across the room.
I swivel my eyes to Cleo’s bed and see a large man lying there, cloaked in shadows.
My skin tightens.
Wait a second.
Oh, those dreams… They weren’t… They weren’t…
OH MY FUCKING GOD.
I slide up against the headboard.
Ras’s ankle slips off the mattress. He’s dressed in a pair of pinstriped black slacks and a white undershirt. His jacket and dress shirt are tossed carelessly over a chair by the bed.
Wait, I remember those slacks.
He wore them at Vale’s wedding.
An indescribable mixture of horror, apprehension, and embarrassment solidifies right in the pit of my stomach.
I think I might throw up again, because there’s no way—no way—Ras has been taking care of me since the night of the wedding.
My body breaks out in a sweat. I haul the covers off me, swivel on my butt, and place one unsteady foot on the floor but stop halfway with the other.
What the hell am I wearing?
Definitely not what I was wearing before. I remember the blue pajamas from when Ras straightened them out for me. I thought it was a dream, but at this point, I’m ready to acknowledge that all of my “dreams” are likely part of a nightmarish reality.
Someone changed me out of my clothes, and the only other person in the room is the most likely suspect.
Heat travels in a slow wave up my chest.
Let’s add vulnerability to that mess in my gut, shall we?
I pull back the neck of the random pink T-shirt I brought with me from New York and breathe a sigh of relief when I discover that my bralette is still on. An image of Ras handling my body with those big hands, dragging a calloused thumb over the bralette’s lacy edge, rudely intrudes inside my head and makes my mouth go dry.
My gaze pings back to my…my…nurse? Guard? Caretaker?
My bare toes dig into the plush carpet.
Ras has been taking care of me this whole time.
On his own.
While my family couldn’t even be bothered to stay behind for a few extra days.
