“You’re not going to die,” I whisper back. “You’re on the mend.”
Partway through the night, I wake again, feeling overheated. I reach out to touch Alexandre’s forehead and cry out, frustrated. He’s burning up with a fever again, his bandages tinged red, and I feel tears well up in my eyes.
After all of this, I’m no longer sure I can save him.
17
ALEXANDRE
Ihave no concept of how much time truly passes between the minutes when I dug that glass into my forearms and slumped to the floor and when I wake to the morning light streaming through the curtains, blankets pushed off of me except for a thin sheet, my entire body tired and aching—and painfully aroused.
I remember flickers of what happened, snippets that I’m unsure whether they were reality or dreams. Mostly they consist of Noelle—of her hands on me, around me, feeding me and bandaging me, and bathing me. Her tending to me,caringfor me, and it feels like it must have all been some awful, taunting dream. There’s no reason for her to care for me like that, to keep me alive. If she had any sense at all, she would have run as soon as she discovered my body. Gone home, as she’d begged me to let her that first day.
I should have. I should have never kept her. I should have told Kaito to go fuck himself.
But if it was all a dream, how had I ended up here? I know I didn’t have the strength to get myself into bed alone. When I look over at my side of the bed, I see a mess—an empty bowl that looks like it held soup, half-filled glasses of water, leftover medical supplies, and bottles everywhere. More than that, I cansmellher on the other side of the bed, her warm, feminine scent, the sweetness of her skin and the floral soap she uses.
My cock throbs, and I groan, my attention dragged forcefully back to my arousal. After what must have been days of my body being unable to do more than lie here weakly, whatever strength I’ve regained seems to have gone directly to my groin. I’m iron-hard, stiff, and tenting the sheet, and the moment I recognize it, my body throbs with a desperate need for release. I feel the hot trickle of pre-cum down my shaft, dampening the sheet, as my balls tighten and my cock throbs again. For a hot, pulsing second, I think I’m going to simply lose control and come, deprived as I have been for so long.
My hand twitches towards my shaft, eager to stroke it. For once, there’s no thought in my head of denying myself, of punishing myself, only for pleasure. The past days and nights have been a miasma of pain and burning heat, of my mouth and throat feeling dry and parched, my lips cracked, my body shuddering with pain that wracked me to the marrow of my bones as the fever rode me hard. I’d been certain I’d died and gone to hell, where I belonged.
But I’m awake--and every inch of me is begging for a hint of pleasure.
The moment my hand twitches towards my cock, though, my fingers stretching to wrap around it, the pain that shoots through my wrist and arm is enough to make me cry out, a rattling groan coming from my chest as my hand flops uselessly down beside me. I have a momentary rush of terror that I cut myself deeply enough to ruin the use of my hands forever—but even if that’s not the case, I’m still too wounded to use them now.
I laugh. I can’t help it, the sound mixing with another groan of pain as my body twitches, my fingers curling uselessly and sending another shock of pain down my forearm. All those nights I spent torturing myself, and I unwittingly devised a worse punishment than I could have ever thought of. I’m achingly hard, on the verge of release, and I can’t use my hands. I can’t even begin to touch myself.
I hear the sound of the doorknob turning, and freeze in place, my heart suddenly stuttering in my chest, a flush of embarrassment washing over me. I don’t want Noelle to see me like this, helpless and aroused, if it really is her coming through that door. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t reach for the blankets to cover myself up, and there’s not a chance in hell that my erection is going to soften. It’s as if weeks and weeks of delayed gratification has rushed to my cock all at once.
The door opens, and just as I’d feared, Noelle walks in. Her hair is bound up atop her head in a messy, shiny black knot, her face pale and tired, purplish shadows under her eyes. She has a pile of bedding under one arm, a mug clasped to her chest, and a bowl with a spoon in it held in her other hand. She doesn’t look at me at first as she makes her way to the side of the bed, clearing a space on the side table as she sets the mug and bowl down. The scent of beef broth wafts to my nose as she shuffles the bedding into her arms—and then promptly drops it as she catches sight of me, the pile landing with a softthumpon the floor between her and the bed.
“You’re awake,” she says softly, something almost like shock in her voice. “I wasn’t sure you—oh.” Her eyes flick downwards, to where my cock is making itself impressively known beneath the sheet, and her cheeks flush apple-red. “You’reawake. I—guess that’s a good sign, um—”
She starts to stutter, stepping back towards the door. “I was going to change the sheets, your fever broke again, but I—I’ll—I’ll leave you alone, so you can—”
Her face is flaming red now, and she clears her throat, now several steps away from the bed. “I’ll let you take care of that.”
My mouth twitches with a helpless, grim amusement. “I’m sorry,” I manage hoarsely, my throat feeling as if it’s been rubbed down with sandpaper. “I didn’t mean for it to—” I lick my cracked lips, feeling the awkwardness in the air between us thicken. “It doesn’t matter,” I finally manage, my voice rough. “I can’t. My wrists—”
Noelle’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she whispers. “Oh god, I didn’t think—”
“If you give me a moment, I’m sure it will go away.” I’m not certain of that at all, but I can’t think of anything else to say. If anything, having Noelle’s wide-eyed gaze fixed on my cock is only making my erection that much worse.
Her eyes flick up to mine with a sudden strange expression on her face. “Are you going to order me to take care of it for you?” There’s something in her voice that I can’t decipher, a hint of anger, perhaps, or dark humor. “That’s what you would have done before, isn’t it? I’m your pet, and you meant to teach me a lesson, before. About how a pet should serve her master.”
I stare at her, the words cutting through me. The dream-like memories of how she cared for me over the past days tear through me again, making my chest ache at the thought that she did it out of duty or fear, as a pet.But why?She could have left. And now she’s offering—
I could order her to do so.In the past, even if I hadn’t followed through, it would have aroused me to do it. I would have fantasized about such a thing, about ordering my pet to tend to my cock, to give me release. But now, in the face of all that’s happened, to my shock, I don’t feel arousal. I feel, if anything, a lessening of it.
She could have left me here to die.Everyone else I’ve ever tried to keep here would have. Even Anastasia left me bleeding out on my kitchen floor from Liam’s gunshots, though that hadn’t been entirely her fault. But it doesn’t change the fact that she left—that theyalldid, one way or another.
All of them except Noelle.
I hurt her, and yet she stayed.
Shesavedme.
“No,” I say quietly, the word rasping over my lips. “I’m not going to tell you to do anything. I will never touch you again without your permission. I will never—”