Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I didn’t move. I had learned the hard way to never let people know you were awake until you knew what was waiting for you.
I needed to figure out where I was, and who else was in the room before I opened my eyes.
The sheets surrounding me were too soft to be hospital linens. And I wasn’t at home; the soft, thick but warm coverings I was under were made from luxurious cotton, not the silk of my sheets. The room smelled like antiseptic and iron, suggesting some type of medical ward. That was, until the scent of dark spices wafted over them.
I knew that smell. It was deep, mysterious, and addictive. I knew it, but I couldn’t place it. My mind wasn’t racing; it was trudging through mud. My thoughts were slow, tedious, and fuzzy.
Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Roman standing at the foot of the bed, glaring at me.
"Are you awake this time?" he asked, a threat low in his voice.
I nodded and instantly regretted it. Pain echoed through my head, all originating from a spot on my temple that was stiff and tender.
"Good," he said, moving to the side of the bed. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burned with rage, but his touch was gentle as he helped me to sit up. His movements were caring as he settled on the edge of the mattress then poured a glass of water for me and held it to my lips, letting me take a few long sips.
This man and his never-ending contradictions made my head spin, head injury or no.
I took my time with the water, sipping slowly, buying myself time to understand what was happening.
I was in a dark bedroom. The lights were dimmed low, casting long shadows over the dark navy walls and wood furniture. The room screamed masculine, with old money taste.
And it smelled like him.
I was in his bed.
Why would he put me in his bed?
As soon as the glass was drained dry, he set it on the bedside table and immediately got to his feet and paced around the room. His fists opened and closed at his sides, anger and frustration radiating from his body.
I said nothing.
I sat and waited for him to make the first move. There was no way I was going to be the first to speak. Not when I didn’t understand what was happening.
"How dare you," he seethed. Finally saying something.
"How dare I do what?" I asked, putting an edge in my voice. I may have been at a disadvantage—hurt, groggy, and confused. But that didn’t mean I was willing to show weakness.
"How dare you fight me like you had nothing to lose!" He turned, facing me and putting his hands flat on the mattress on either side of my feet.
His eyes glowed with an intensity that froze my heart.
There was so much going on behind his eyes, I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. If I didn’t know what he was thinking, I couldn’t gauge my answers appropriately.
I hated being at such a disadvantage, being in a position of weakness. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t the woman I had worked so hard to become.
Carefully, I pushed myself up further, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My limbs were slow to obey. Everything felt heavy and tingled with poor circulation as I moved.
It wasn’t until I was sitting fully upright, feet on the floor, that I noticed the plastic tube going from my arm up to the metal pole hidden behind the post of the bed.
I had an IV.
There were two plastic bags hanging from the pole. One was the standard large saline drip, something I was very familiar with. The other was less familiar to me.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to focus on the small text. Tranexamic Acid (TXA).
I had taken it in shots before, and in pill form, but never as an IV.
"Answer me," Roman growled.
"I forgot the question," I said, raising an eyebrow, showing him an attitude that I didn’t feel.
"I said"—his jaw clenched so hard I was a little worried his pearly white teeth would shatter—"how dare you fight me like you had nothing to lose!"
A bitter laugh escaped my dry lips as the taste of pennies filled my mouth. "I dare, because I have nothing to lose."
My voice was hoarse, and each word scratched its way out of my throat, but I didn’t let them waver. I didn’t let the weakness I was feeling seep into my voice.
Roman had seen far too much of my weakness already.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath as he raked a hand through his dark hair.
Stupid fucking disease.
I knew the drug the doctor gave me would force my blood to clot over the next day like a "normal person." Too bad it wouldn’t last. It was too risky to take on a regular basis. Too many side effects. The medication always left me heavy-limbed and tired.