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CHAPTER FIVE

M y body stings and tingles with all the memory of the feelings I got from him. The press of his body, his bulging muscles as they squashed and bruised mine.

His kiss left a need as hungry as an open wound. My heart still beats time, chasing the rise of my pulse as it hammered to meet his. I could be feeling that all over again. If he were here, I could feel that way forever.

I need him back here. My whole body craves him. Yearns for him. For all the comfort and safety I have, hidden, submerged and unconscious in the thick, liquid darkness, I would throw it all away for one more kiss like that.

I need him.

My chest pounds.

I need him.

My breath quickens.

I need him.

My lips tingle and burn. My tongue wants to lick my lips where the memory of his mouth sealed on mine.

Spinning clenches of frustration drive me nuts. I feel my chest rise and my back arc. And I know that’s a delusion. A hopeless, empty dream. Fighting for air, I take a long, rasping breath and at the end of it I shout.

I break the surface again. Noise pounds in my ears. All that’s in my mind is his hot, living breath. His breath in my body, my breath in his.

But all I can hear is the two-beat drum of my heart and the pulsing rush of the blood in my veins.

The doctor is here — fuck that guy. Can’t he do anything useful?

And the merciless Emperor. And my dreamy devil Mastermind.

Talking about me.

The Emperor demands, “Now should we do the tests?”

“Believe me, I want to see her get better. Maybe almost as much as you do.” There’s an edge in the doctor’s voice. A crack that sounds like fear. What could make the doctor afraid?

A great rolling swell snowballs in my gut. Could that be the key? Swirling possibilities. Not all of them are good.

“What’s happening?”

“Her stomach is palpitating. It’s probably nothing.”

The Mastermind leans over, like he’s peering at me. I feel like a specimen in a lab dish. “She looks like she’s going to puke.”

“No,” the doctor is dismissive, “If she did that she would choke on her own vomit.”

The snowball spins. Swells. A toxic mix thickens. It starts to push up.

“Pull out the tubes,” the Emperor says, “Get her in the recovery position.”

The doctor says, “Better you leave the doctoring to me…”

Hands grab my shoulders from both sides, pulling me in opposite directions.

The doctor’s smooth, strong hands push me firmly back into the pillow.

My eyes and mouth are wide open. I jerk upward.

The light blinds me. All I can see is three blurred figures around the bed. I remember the way to the bathroom, though. I’ve heard enough people come and go.

I spring bolt upright, up to sitting, pushed by the snowball as it swells up through my chest. The doctor’s hands are still on my shoulders.

“Just wait,” he starts to say.

Until my acid volley of puke splashes straight across his face and covers his glasses.

My legs and feet are unsteady as I jump out of the bed and spring toward the bathroom. Wires and tubes rip and yank out of my arms and off my chest. Machines clump and clatter to the floor. My balance rolls like a raft in a gale but, slipping and stumbling, I make it across the room.

I get to the WC and hurl up the rest of the acrid snowball. Thick, stinking bolts splash against the porcelain.

On my knees with my head hung, I pant and gasp, leaning over the bowl. When I finally feel almost ready to pull myself up, I still can hardly open my eyes. I force them open and they clamp shut against the light. I blink and squint as I haul myself up on my shaky legs to lean over the sink. I take a few moments to gasp and breathe before I splash cold water on my face.

I cup my hands to hold water, but when I try to bend low enough to drink it, I feel like I’m going to fall. Then I see a glass. Swishing and sloshing, I take a few mouthfuls. Then I manage to gulp a couple of glasses down. It feels like I’m drinking off a very long thirst.

The bathroom mirror is covered with a piece of fabric. I try to shift it aside, but I can’t. It’s fixed and it’s all I can do to stand with one hand on the basin. If I take both hands off at the same time, I’m in danger of falling.

I don’t remember closing the door and, when I lurch back to lean against the frame, it takes me several moments to get it open. Blinking in the doorway, I can make out the three men by the hospital bed.

The large room looks half like a hospital ward and half a luxury bedroom. The machines around the top of the huge hospital bed have all been stood back up, with their wires and tubes all hung over them. One long wall is covered with closed curtains, and on the other, silk scarves drape from floor to ceiling, all over the closet doors.

My head spins and my legs wobble. The doctor is easy to identify in his shirtsleeves with a vest. He’s the one wiping his face with a blue towel. The other two men wear suits and ties. All of them rush toward me but I wave them away.

The doctor is insistent, but so am I. Even though I’m tottering and weaving as I hurry across the room, I hold a hand firmly out to his face. I make it back to the bed and clamber on top of the mess of sheets.

The doctor lurches at me again.

As he comes near, I manage to blurt, “Not now. Give me an hour,”

He blusters, saying, “Let me examine you,” but he’s recoiling at the same time. Probably afraid that I’ll vomit in his face again. If I could, I certainly would.

He says, “You may need…” but his heart isn’t in it and the other two steer him away.

The biggest of the men has a cruel mouth with a twist of sarcasm. He’s broad shouldered with a powerful chest. With his feet planted apart he exudes power and I’m sure that he is the Emperor.

The other man is the Mastermind, I’m certain, from the dark gleam in his flashing eyes. His sharp, high cheekbones and the chiseled cleft in his chin could be straight from a white marble Michelangelo.

As he opens the door, the Emperor calls out, “She’s awake.”

The Mastermind tells the doctor, “We’ll get you cleaned up.You can examine her afterward.” The two men guide him out of the room, ignoring his protests. He has somewhere else he needs to be, apparently. They very obviously don’t care.

As he leaves, the Emperor says, “Watch over her. We’ll give her half an hour, then we’ll be back.”

My Warrior strides in through the doorway.