Page 34 of Danger Close (Mourningkill #3)

I’m Sorry

Teri

The Day Before the Wedding

Instead of enjoying the high of morphine, I had vertigo, dizziness, nausea, and complete exhaustion.

The longer it was in my system, the worse it would get.

Medication and I had never been friends.

Anything made to lessen pain just gave me a different sort of ache.

I’d counted myself blessed when an epidural worked, even if they had to re-insert the needle three times to get it right. Just another sign I was born unlucky.

The morphine put me in and out of sleep. I didn't know the difference between dreams and waking. Nightmares and reality. The only thing that kept me sane was Cobra’s face. Cobra… my Joe.

A pleasant dream, from the imaginations of an addled mind.

When I woke again, I was staring up at brushed gold crown molding.

“Where am I?” I croaked, my voice hoarse.

“My family house.” The familiar voice caressed my consciousness as the white fog of sleep was chased away. “Or, my family’s haunted castle. That’ll depend on your perspective.”

I stared at Joe, blinking, trying to make sure he was real.

“I share this place with my half brother and sister, Jericho and Yuliya.” He sat in an arm chair with navy blue brocade, and engraved arm rests that looked like a lion’s claw. “We’ve been taking turns watching you, since they insisted I at least take a shower.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“They said you’d be scared if you smelled how rotten I got from the hospital.”

He stood and walked towards me as I groaned, my mind becoming aware of the pain in every part of my being.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was a soft purr.

He placed his hand on my forehead, and I shut my eyes, enjoying the soothing feel of his skin against mine.

“No fever,” he concluded. “Headache?”

I shook my head. “No, just… tired.”

My voice croaked, parched. He took a silver pitcher from the nightstand and poured water into a glass.

He leaned down, hugged me to him as he lifted me to a sitting position and fixed the pillows at my back so I could sit up. He leaned me against the headboard, his lips grazing my cheek. He smelled divine. Like coffee, amber, and… cigarettes?

“Have you been smoking?” I croaked when he leaned away, putting a straw in the glass before he brought it to my lips.

“Drink,” he commanded.

I stared at him, shutting my lips.

I tilted my head and lifted a brow, waiting for him to answer my question. He rolled his eyes.

“Stubborn woman.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “I have mostly quit smoking since… well…”

“Since I was pregnant,” I finished for him.

That was a dreadful time, but I’d stood by him through the cravings and tantrums. The moment the strip turned pink, he quit smoking and drinking. We had been so intent about doing things right for our baby.

“But you’re smoking now?” I said, disapprovingly.

I glanced around the lavish room. It was larger than my apartment, with what looked like a door to its own private bathroom. Familiar paper bags with the logo of the dress shop were on a little luggage stand, the blood long dried.

“Only when I’m stressed,” he answered.

“How often are you stressed?” We’d worked hard for him to quit.

I didn’t like that he’d started up again. At our age, we had to watch our health if we intended to live longer. I had no intention of prolonging my existence, but he had every reason to extend his.

“Not often,” he whispered, his hands balling into fists and relaxing again. “But this has me on edge.”

He meant me.

“Drink,” he said again. This time, I obeyed as the familiar feeling of disappointment went through me. Disappointment in myself, and the burden I placed on those around me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll pay you back for the dress.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I shivered, as a slight ache shot up my abdomen, tracing a line around my ribs to my shoulder. I tried not to wince. I didn’t want him burdened with my pain. I was such a weight on everyone around me!

“What?” Cobra put the glass down on the nightstand.

“The dress for the wedding,” I whispered, staring at the blood-soaked bag. “It’s ruined. I don’t think that I should go anyway. Not in my state.”

“Princess,” he said sweetly, but sternly. I’d love it if he called me that for the rest of my life. “I don’t give a damn about the dress. I’ll buy you the entire shop if you like.”

He turned to me, his brows knit together.

“And you’re going to the wedding.”

I whimpered. I was afraid that he’d say that. My heart sank to my feet, as I avoided his gaze.

“You didn’t want Trinity to know that you were attacked. I am doing my damned hardest to respect that, and to respect you.” He sat on the edge of my bed, our hips pressed together, as his weight dipped the mattress. “But if you do not show up to the wedding, she’ll be devastated.”

The last word slapped me in the face.

“I made her a promise. I intend to keep it.” He shook his head, his fists clenching and unclenching. “We’ll make some excuse to leave early, but we're showing up for her.”

Raymond was watching. Raymond was here. I knew it. If he wasn’t actually in Mourningkill then he would be soon. His cruelties, his taunts, had escalated over the past year.

He only liked me isolated, alone, afraid. The more time I spent around people, the more insistent he became. He would have no issue crashing the wedding just to hurt me.

Hurting his toys brought him happiness. And I was his favorite.

“You don’t understand.” My voice was a whisper, because why would I bother to speak up? No one ever heard me anyway. “I can’t go.”

“ You don’t understand. We’re going together. ” He stood and walked away.

His hand ran through his salt and pepper hair as he paced like a lion in a cage.

“I thought you’d be the kind of mother to walk through fire for her. That would do everything to make our child happy. You won’t even sit for an hour to watch her get married?” His eyes were laced with accusation. “I get you’re hurt. I get you’re in pain. So tell Trinity what happened. ”

His eyes were fiery, like our child’s every time she defied me.

“Tell her, for God’s sake, so she doesn’t think you’re making a point of showing your disapproval. Don’t make her think you’re rejecting her.”

“I’m protecting her!”

“From who?”