17
Kane
Jessie, the Angel
“I’ll protect you,” she whispers. “I promise.”
I stir at the sound of my angel’s voice, but the aches that dig into every muscle I possess forces me to scrunch my eyes shut. I burrow deeper into my bed and pray for relief. “Tired.”
“I know.” She strokes my forehead. Humming a song under her breath, she helps soothe the fire in my chest. “Sleep,” she whispers. “I’m on guard duty tonight. It’s my turn.”
“Back soon.”
With my ear over her chest, I listen to thebub-boom, bub-boomof her healthy heart and try to time my breaths.
My body aches from my ears to my toes. I’ve never been in so much pain in my entire life. Exhausted and nauseous, I turn to my side and press a kiss to the soft flesh there.
Need more sleep.
* * *
Flickeringlights burn through my eyelids and stab my brain. I blindly reach out for the remote, but come up with nothing but soft skin, then a warm hand that twines with mine. “Shh.” With a melodic voice, thick with exhaustion, she helps me calm. “It’s okay. Relax.”
“Thirsty.”
“Okay.” She releases my hand and arches away. Electrical bolts zing through my brain, like a migraine, but a billion times worse than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. As soon as her heart no longer beats under my ear, my system goes into a tailspin.
“Hey. Stop.” She pushes me down when I try to get up. “Here. Stop.” She presses an icy cold hand to my cheek, then a cool glass to my lips. “Tiny little sips. You need to relax. Don’t drink too fast, you’ll make yourself sick.”
Like lava over razor blades, I swallow the liquid and clamp my lips shut when my stomach threatens to send it straight back up.
“Better?”
I shake my head and slump back down against her body. Exhausted, I manipulate her until her heart rests beneath my ear. “All better.”
“Okay. Rest.”
Nodding, I bring my hand back up to cover my eyes. My fingers rest on her chest and my thumb in my eye. I tap my pinky against her skin. “My heart.”
“I know.” She places a cold towel over my head, but I barely react to her trying to smother me. I don’t care anymore, because when she brings her hand down to my chest to run circles in my skin, my toes uncurl. “I know it hurts. Try to breathe with me. Slow it down. Sleep some more. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
* * *
Icy cold handsdrag me back to the surface. She feels around my forehead, my cheek, my neck. “You have a fever, Kane. You’re really, really hot.”
I scrunch my eyes closed and burrow deeper into her body.
“Do you think you should have some ibuprofen?” She slides the soggy towel over my face, soothing me the way her nails against my scalp soothe me. “I don’t know how to help you.” She sniffles. “Will ibuprofen help? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“Dunno.” With shaking hands, I take the towel and lay it over my face. Block out the TV. Block out the heat. Block out everything except her skin on mine. “Goin’ back to sleep. Don’t wake me anymore. Sick.”
“I’m really scared,” she whimpers. “I won’t recover if you die in my lap. And I really think you’re dying.”
“Won’t die. Promise.” Shivering all over, I clutch to her thigh like it’s a buoy in a stormy sea. “Cuddle me, baby. Makes me feel better.”
She contorts her body so her chest remains under my cheek, her thigh between my arms and legs, and her other leg wrapped around my hips. Hunching over, she lays her lips on the top of my head. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Bishop. Swear to god, no one has done something so horrible to me.”
“Sleep, Jessie. Rest.”