Page 19 of Patrick’s Seduction (Scanguards Vampires #19)

19

F allon tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. After the very satisfying sex with Patrick, she should have fallen into a deep sleep, yet sleep eluded her. Maybe it was the unfamiliar house, or the strange bed—Patrick’s, not the one in the guestroom—but something wouldn’t let her find the rest she craved. There were so many different sounds that drifted to her: the cars passing by the street in front of the house, as well as the creaking of wooden floorboards in the house itself. They had to be coming from Lydia, who was on the first floor, awake, watching over her.

After Patrick had left the house, Fallon had dressed in jogging pants and a T-shirt and quickly gone downstairs to get some water and a yogurt. She’d thanked Lydia for having gone food shopping, before going back upstairs and following Patrick’s invitation to sleep in his room.

The thought that he’d join her in bed when he was done with work pleased her, although she didn’t understand why she was jumping head over heels into a new relationship. After her experience with Cameron, it would be smarter not to date anyone for a while, but there was something so comforting and right about being with Patrick. He was gentle and considerate, despite the confidence with which he carried himself, and the responsibilities on his shoulders. Men in his position—and with his good looks—often displayed a certain amount of arrogance and entitlement, yet both personality traits seemed to be absent in him. Or was he just better at hiding them?

Her head was spinning now, not just from the thoughts going through her mind, but also from the sounds that seemed to get louder with every minute. She was getting a headache, and perspiration started to engulf her, drenching her to the point where the T-shirt she slept in clung to her breasts and back.

She tossed the thin duvet off her body, trying to find relief from the heat, but she found none. She felt feverish. It was as if her body was burning up from inside. Was she coming down with something?

She sat up and swung her legs out of bed, setting her bare feet on the cool wooden floor. For a moment, she felt a semblance of relief, but it didn’t last long. Her entire body began to ache now, not just her head, but everything: her skin itched as if she’d fallen into poison ivy. She switched on the bedside lamp, and the light fairly blinded her despite the dark lampshade that should have only thrown a soft glow on her surroundings. Instead, the small light source illuminated the room as if she were in a lab with harsh industrial lights. For a moment, she had to close her eyes to stop them from hurting. When she opened them again and started to get used to the light, she examined her skin, but despite her skin itching, she found no hives, no red patches. The little hairs on her arms rose, adding to the prickling sensation. Something was wrong.

Had she come into contact with chemicals during the attack in her lab to which she now showed an allergic reaction? Or worse, had she been infected with anything in the hospital? She knew—better than anybody—that hospitals were breeding grounds for superbugs, and any of those bacteria could have entered her bloodstream via the cuts and abrasions she’d sustained during the attack.

She remembered the antibiotics she’d started right after returning home from the hospital. They should help, but what if whatever she’d caught was resistant to antibiotics?

Knowing she had to do something, she stood up, wrapped herself in her bathrobe, and left the room. When the door shut behind her, it made a deafening noise as if she’d slammed it, even though she hadn’t. Downstairs, she found Lydia sitting in the living room, reading. She looked up.

“Can’t sleep?”

The sound of Lydia’s voice sent a ringing through her ears, startling her. Instinctively, she put her hands over her ears, drowning out the noise.

“Something is wrong.” Her own voice sounded different, too shrill and too loud.

Lydia shot up from the sofa, and the sound of her shoes tapping on the wooden floor reminded her of a loud knocking on a door.

“You don’t look too good,” Lydia said, approaching.

“My head hurts, everything is so loud… I’m hot…I think I got infected with something…” She felt her heart pounding in her chest, and her Apple Watch beeped, indicating that her heart rate was spiking.

She glanced at it and had trouble focusing her eyes on the display, until she was finally able to read the numbers: 156bpm. She rarely ever reached that heart rate even when sprinting on the treadmill or running up the stairs.

Trying to calm herself, she pressed her hand to her chest and felt the reverberations of her heart drumming against her palm.

Was she having a heart attack?

“I need a doctor…” she pressed out.

But the thought of returning to the hospital, where she didn’t feel safe, scared her. “Not UCSF.”

Lydia was already tapping something on her phone, before pressing it to her ear. “Patrick? Fallon isn’t well. I’m bringing her in.”

Fallon felt Lydia take her by the arm, and picked up a few more words from her conversation.

“Get Buffy to meet us at HQ.”

Moments later, she sat in the passenger seat of Lydia’s dark blue BMW. As the engine roared, the loud noise intensified the pain in her head and drove her heart rate even higher. The beeping of her Apple Watch warning her of her high heart rate was unbearable by now, and she tugged at the watch strap and ripped it off her wrist, tossing it between her feet. Finally, the beeping stopped, and she leaned back in the seat, while the engine sound turned into a dull humming noise. The lights of other cars coming toward them blinded her, and she pressed her eyes shut.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d kept her eyes shut, until it got quieter around her. The sounds of other cars dissipated, and she finally only heard the humming of the BMW wrapping around her like a cocoon. Isolated from other sounds, it became bearable, and she let out a sigh of relief.

A moment later, the car came to a stop and silence surrounded her.

“We’re here,” Lydia announced, her voice much softer now, almost soothing as if she spoke to a child.

She appreciated it and opened her eyes. As she glanced around, she recognized that they were in an underground parking garage.

“This isn’t San Francisco General,” she murmured.

“I brought you to Scanguards’ medical center. We can help you here.”

Before she could ask why a security company operated a medical center, the passenger side door opened, and a hand reached for her.

Startled, she gasped, and spun her head to see who it was, but even before her eyes could perceive the person, she recognized him by the scent that drifted to her nose.

“Patrick,” she whispered.

He helped her out of the car, and put his arm around her, supporting her weight.

“Baby, you’re burning up,” he said, deep concern in his voice.

The sound of the car doors closing echoed in the vast space, sending another shockwave through her body, making her flinch.

With Patrick on one side of her, and Lydia on the other, they led her to an elevator. The doors already stood open with a gurney ready to receive her.

She didn’t protest when Patrick lifted her onto it, feeling relief spread in her aching limbs. She took a deep breath, squinting when she looked straight into the lights on the ceiling of the elevator. Patrick leaned over her, blocking out the light.

“Better?” he asked.

She was surprised that he’d realized without asking her that the light was causing her discomfort.

“Yeah.” Her reply was more breath than word.

She felt the movement of the elevator as it descended. In her addled mind she briefly wondered why a medical center would be below ground. She let her eyes drift closed for a while. At some point the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. She heard footsteps as Lydia and Patrick wheeled her along a corridor.

After a turn, a set of doors opened, and there were voices. The humming and beeping of machines, the familiar sounds of a hospital drifted to her ears.

“In here,” a female voice said with authority.

A warm hand touched her forearm, and she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s. She would have recognized his touch.

“I’m Buffy. I’ll take care of you, alright, Fallon?”

She wanted to nod, but the mere thought of moving her head sent another wave of pain through her body.

“Thank you, doctor,” she said instead.

“Just Buffy,” she corrected. “Tell me your symptoms.”

“Headache, it’s so loud…” She took a breath. “So bright… everything hurts. I’m so hot. A fever maybe.”

“Alright, Fallon, just rest now. I’ll examine you. You’ll feel better soon, I promise you.”

Even though she didn’t believe Buffy’s statement, Fallon was grateful for the positive attitude.

Another hand squeezed hers ever so lightly. “You can trust Buffy,” Patrick confirmed. “I’m right here with you.”

She hummed her approval and surrendered to the care of the people around her. She felt safe now.