Page 39

Hungover

I held Vince against me as he drooled on my shoulder.

Any time I tried to move to take care of him, like wipe his face, he gripped my shirt and started to cry.

All while I snuggled him, his words circled my thoughts.

My soul pounded with warmth. Vince had claimed me.

Completely. I wished it was forever, but he was giving me everything he could in this moment.

My fingers trailed over his back, feeling the smoothness of his shirt.

I wished it was his skin, but I was content he was beside me.

My Vince. I rubbed my cheek against his hair.

His gentle scent bore the barest tinge of my own, but I wanted it to be stronger.

Until any drakcol could scent me on him, I wouldn’t be satisfied.

He whimpered in his sleep when a dream started, rolling onto his back.

“Hush, my Mate. I am here. You are safe.” I forced him onto his side against me. I didn’t want him to choke on his own vomit—something Kalvoxrencol had pinged to warn me about. I dragged my claws through his hair, scratching his scalp, careful not to hurt him.

Vince calmed without use of my inner fire and pressed closer to me, his fingers gripping my shirt.

Often I felt as if I was nothing more than my inner fire. My family cared about me beside my gift, and in some cases, in spite of it. Some of my past partners had only sought me out because of my inner fire. My early work in the navy was because of it. Vince was different. He cared about me for me.

The easy compliments he gave. All were sincere.

From how he liked my smile to how smart he thought I was.

Vince never held back. The gentle touches.

Slowly, he was becoming more and more comfortable with me.

As he did, Vince was happy to stake his claim with a soft touch on my arm or a brush of his lips.

His fierce claiming of me was something I desperately needed; something I’d never known I needed until I’d met him.

Suddenly, Vince sat up, eyes wide. “I don’t feel good.”

Before I was able to react, he vomited. The foul-smelling liquid splattered me and the bed. His eyes grew wide, and tears began to gather.

“Don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m not mad. I won’t hurt you.” In his current inebriated state, I couldn’t read his mind. It was all blurry.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, chest heaving. Vince gagged moments before he vomited again, spewing on me and the sheets. I got up and snagged an empty planter, shoving it into his arms. Vince puked again. I had no idea how this much liquid was in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, tears running down his cheeks and snot leaking from his nose.

“It’s fine.” I brushed a hand through his hair, breathing through my mouth. Love wasn’t all smiles, apparently. It was vomit too. When he continued to sob, I said, “You need to stop or you're going to make yourself sick.”

“I want to look pretty for you.”

“What?” I asked with a slight chuckle.

“You’re too perfect. I want to be pretty.”

“You are pretty.”

“No, no, I’m not. I smell.” His head fell back as he sobbed.

Unable to stop it, I broke into laughter. I cupped his cheeks, ignoring the vomit on both of us. “Where is my confident Little Warrior?”

“I don’t know.” He kept crying and crying.

“You shouldn’t drink like this again if it’s going to upset you.”

Vince continued, “I want you to like me.”

“I do.”

“I want you to think I’m pretty.”

“I do, Vince.”

He cried, “Why am I not good enough?”

I truly didn’t understand. Vince had never seemed like he cared what anyone thought. I pulled him closer. “You are. You’re the only person for me.”

He sniffed, wiping his tears before dragging his dripping nose over the shoulder of my shirt. My nose crinkled in disgust, but I wasn’t going to say anything to him in this state.

“You never cared about this before that I know of,” I said, brushing his hair back “Why are you upset?”

“I like you best.”

My soul pounded. “What about Seth?”

“I like you best,” he repeated. “Seth is Seth.” Vince waved his hand like that explained everything. “He’s always going to be Seth. But you are Don. My Don. And I like you best. I want you to like me best.”

“I do.” I kissed his cheek. “I do.”

Vince finally calmed down, head on my chest.

We were both covered in vomit, as was the bed, and all of it smelled horribly, making my stomach churn.

Carefully, I maneuvered him to the bathroom and had him sit with the planter on his lap.

The easiest thing would be to put him in the shower with me.

In his current state, I could probably convince him to get naked, but he hadn’t given me his permission to do so.

I didn’t want to take advantage of him, or when he woke up, for him to never trust me again.

So I took a shower, alone, while I made him sit in the bathroom because he kept vomiting occasionally.

Once I was clean, I tied my hair back and pulled on fresh clothes.

I got a cloth wet and wiped him off, though his shirt was filthy.

I pulled it off, and Vince didn’t react.

I yanked one of my own over his head, and he drowned in the excess fabric.

I growled at the sight of him in my clothes.

When we returned to my room, I stripped the bed and put new bedding on.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I kissed his cheek. “Don’t be. I will always take care of you.”

He lay down, and I rolled him toward me on his side. Vince rubbed my shirt and frowned. He tugged on the hem, and I caught his hands. “No. You are too drunk.”

“I don’t want to fuck,” he snapped, though it was wet as if he was about to start crying again. “I want to touch you.”

“Vince, I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and be upset with me.”

“No,” he wailed, yanking on my shirt. “Just you. I want to feel you against my face. I need it.”

Relenting, I leaned up and pulled my shirt off. Vince sighed, pressing against me. His eyes closed, and he held me as close as possible. “Mine.”

“Yes,” I said with a chuckle. “Yours. All yours.”

Groaning, I held my head. My mouth was literal trash and also bone dry. Everything hurt. I wanted to curl into a ball and die. God. Dying had to be less painful than this. It had to be.

Arms surrounded me, and I started, yanking away, which ripped a whine from my throat as my stomach threatened to escape.

“It’s me,” Don whispered.

I blurrily looked at him, confused. An odd sensation went through me.

Don looked as he usually did, though his royal purple hair was tied back, not hanging free.

He was shirtless, but that wasn’t weird either.

I’d asked him to sleep next to me without his shirt on before.

I liked the feel of his scales against my hand or face.

No, it was none of that. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten into his room or when. The last thing I remembered was drinking in my room with everyone.

“You were drunk,” Don said, voice low and soft as he settled me against him.

I closed my eyes, head pounding.

“Kalvoxrencol pinged me, and I brought you here.”

Nothing besides a vague sense of unease, like I’d done something really really stupid, was coming to mind.

“You need to drink water. Kalvoxrencol says that’s how to cure human hangovers.” Don gently set me away from him, then moved toward the dispenser on the wall. “I confess, I haven’t researched much about human care, but I will.”

“I should be able to take care of my own damn self, but research away. It’s not like I can stop you,” I muttered.

What the hell had I forgotten? Had I done something embarrassing with Seth and Teddy?

This was Don’s ship, so I imagined if we had done something truly asinine he would’ve told me already.

As I shifted on the bed, my shirt caught under me, making me tug on the fabric. “What the hell?” I asked, looking down at the mass of cloth around me. I recognized it. “Why am I wearing your shirt?”

Don’s tail flicked as he handed me the glass of water. “You vomited on your clothes last night. Your shirt got the brunt of it, so I put you in one of mine.”

Like a floodgate being released, everything I’d done last night came pouring back. Smacking Fyn. Calling Don mine. Asking him not to fuck anyone else. Puking on him.

Fucking hell and all the good things in the universe, I’d puked on him. Multiple times. He’d seen me vomit. There was no way to recover from that. Abandon ship, call the reaper, put a fucking fork in me. This whole whatever-we-were was done.

I groaned, shoving the water onto the nightstand, and buried my face in the pillow to hide my burning cheeks.

The bed shifted when Don moved behind me. He nuzzled my back while his tail coiled around my leg. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

Unlikely. Of course I was embarrassed. I wished a black hole would suck me in so I didn’t have to face him.

“I wouldn’t like that,” he said. “I would miss you dreadfully.”

Resentment pooled in my stomach. I couldn’t even be embarrassed in private.

It was instantaneous. The moment he heard my thoughts, Don drew away.

“No,” I growled, rolling over. I snagged his hand, but he didn’t look at me, expression completely blank. “No, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean it. I’m just fucking embarrassed. I love you hearing me. You know that.”

Don nodded, but the damage was done. It had been bound to happen sometime. I couldn’t police my thoughts constantly. That was impossible. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Please?” I asked as I conjured the image of him lying on the bed next to me. “Please, Sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

He settled beside me, and I pressed against him, breathing in his light scent. Nothing else calmed me down like he did. I kissed his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Vince.”

“No, it fucking isn’t. You’re allowed to be mad at me for hurting your feelings, Don. Yes, I cannot control all of my thoughts, and I’m going to think shit things at times, but I never want to hurt you.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I forgive you.”

“I’m embarrassed because I puked on you after making unreasonable demands and smacking your brother. Caleb’s going to be pissed I hit Fyn.”

“I liked you claiming me, though if you could refrain from hurting my brothers, I would appreciate it. Even Kalvoxrencol,” he said, making me frown; I still kind of wanted to kill him, not that I would, but I sure as hell would keep planning it mentally.

Don continued, “I don’t want anyone else, Vince, so your request isn’t unreasonable. I would also prefer if I was the only person you were having sex with.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” I said with a shrug. Why would I want anyone besides Don? I was a possessive asshole. I could only focus my attention on one person at a time for the most part, except for Seth. Though even with Seth, I didn’t want to sleep with him anymore.

A smile tugged at the corner of Don’s lips and his grip tightened a bit. “As for the vomiting, I don’t care. You are mine to take care of.”

I swallowed as an unnamed emotion clawed at my throat. “I’m yours?”

“If you want to be.”

Hell yes, I wanted to be.

Head aching, I rolled onto Don, and he kept his hands at his sides, although his tail tightened around my ankle. “You are mine.”

Don’s expression turned utterly serious as he said, “I am yours, Vince. No one else’s. Completely and utterly yours.”

Grinning, I settled on his chest and closed my eyes. Hangover be damned. I was happy as could be. Don was mine for as long as I wanted to keep him.