Mom isn’t sure if they’re going to the party tonight as they’re waiting for word on who the council is inviting. They’ve decided they’re keeping the gathering smaller with the code orange status, so Mom wants also to organize a party for me and Jase when we get back from Italy.
It’ll be awesome seeing some of our people tonight, though, especially getting to do it in public as Jase’s mate.
***
Sherry groans and it startles me, causing me to snap from reclined position in the chair to sitting up straight.
I’m now watching from the edge of my seat, wondering if this is normal. Taylor didn’t say anything about Sherry making sounds.
She groans again and her eyes bolt open. They bolt open so instantly and go so wide that it’s creepy. She blinks twice before her nose twitches and her gaze snaps to where I’m sitting.
She frowns and sits up gasping.
“What the fuck?” she whispers, looking around the space.
I jump to my feet. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re fine.” I press my hands out in what’s supposed to be a calming gesture, I guess.
“I’m fine?” she asks, looking bewildered.
“They’ve had you on a… healing regimen.”
“Why am I in the dining room?”
“You’ve been sedated. They’ve been… maybe I should get Cat here.” I fish around the recliner for my phone.
“Why areyouhere?” she demands.
“Your family has been taking turns looking after you and your folks are taking Gwendolyn to the airport. Taylor had an emergency come up so she asked me to just sit here with you to make sure you’re okay until she or your parents get back.”
She’s frowning. And her eyes are active. She’s putting things together, I think.
She looks at her arm, at the IV that’s attached. Her eyes move to the stacks of medical supplies on the table. She swings her legs over, as if to get up but reaches between her legs. There’s a hose there. A catheter.
Her expression hardens. I know my phone is in this chair somewhere, I just had it, so I’m feeling around for it.
“What do you mean sedated? Am I wearing a… a… diaper?”
“I can call Cat or your mom and put her on speaker for you.”
“Where’s my phone?” she mumbles, disoriented.
“I have no idea,” I say as I continue to feel around for my phone. Finally, I hear it hit the rug underneath.
“They left me withyou?”
Awkward.
“I’m just lending a hand.”
I’ve called Cat’s line. It’s ringing.
Her expression sours. “Of all people?”
Something changes in her expression. Her nostrils are flared. “You’re mated to my brother.”
She’s looking at my neck.
The sourness on her face starts to take that turn, the turn I’ve seen so many times I’ve lost count. It always starts out like this, with her looking me over like she finds me disgusting. The next step is for her expression to twist into something sinister before she’ll say or do something cruel.