Forever, page 13
“Did he have a stroke?” Xhex whispered. “Or not?”
Doc Jane likewise kept her voice low. “I’d like to put him into the MRI with some contrast to see if there was any infarction in his head. We thought that was what was going on a couple of hours ago, but his pupils are reactive and equal, and he obviously has control over limbs. He’s also very aware.”
“When are we out of the woods?”
“Well, we’ve made the turn, for sure.” Doc Jane shook her head, her forest green eyes narrowing. “And with the way that Brother is looking at you? I’d say the Grim Reaper is going to have to work a lot harder to pull this fighter into a premature grave.”
Xhex wiped her eyes of tears. “Can I feed him?”
“Yes, that would be great.” More loudly, Jane said, “I have a vein ready and waiting over here.”
“Two secs.” Manny put a forefinger up to John’s face. “Follow this without moving your head, okay? Great… yup… that’s right. Excellent.”
Manny sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at his patient. “I don’t suppose you can touch your nose for me—oh, you’re just knocking it out of the park, aren’t you.”
With a clap on John’s leg, the physician got to his feet and jacked up his blue scrubs. “A vein would be awesome.”
As Xhex went to get up close with her mate again, Manny gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Never underestimate a bonded male’s ability to recover.”
Locking eyes with John, Xhex bit into her own wrist and then placed her open vein at his mouth. He latched on immediately, taking great draws, lifting a hand to secure her forearm to his lips—but again, like she was going anywhere?
Xhex looked down her mate’s body and addressed her mahmen. “Tell Tohr to come in? And the Brothers—you have to go report in to the Brotherhood.”
Autumn blew a kiss and exited. A moment later…
Out in the corridor, the cheer of John’s nearest and dearest was so loud, so happy, it rattled the door in its jamb and echoed throughout the training center. But that was family for you, wasn’t it. When tragedy struck, they were the first to be by your side.
And when a miracle came in for a landing?
Your relief and joy were their own.
“Thank you,” she said to the medical staff as the ancient chanting of the warriors started up, the male voices strident and powerful, like they were vanquishing death from the training center. “You saved his life.”
Manny looked at his patient. Then the human smiled in a lopsided way and spoke up over the victory din. “We played a part. But he stayed alive… for you.”
* * *
After Daniel left the underground lab, he ended up outside at the mansion’s garages. Opening the pedestrian door, he entered the interior and immediately noticed the warmth in the air. But of course C.P. Phalen wouldn’t want her cars to get a chill.
Not that he was here for her rides.
Walking down the front grilles of her matched set of Mercedes sedans and then her baker’s dozen of SUVs, he passed by her Aventador and stopped in front of his only possession that was worth anything. The Harley was a custom Street Glide, not that he’d been the one with the bright ideas about modifying the bike. He’d bought the motorcycle off a buddy of his.
Just before the guy had taken a bullet to the head and died on a job.
Trolling his fingertips across the handlebars, down the gas tank, and over the quilted black seat, he could hear the sound of the engine in his head. The growl was loud, sure, but not the kind of loud that Harleys were known for, not the kind that sucked your hearing out of your ear canals or rattled the windows of houses as you passed. That was the reason he’d liked the bike—because it had all the speed and handling, and none of the obnoxious, attention-getting stuff.
He’d never worn a helmet. Not a bad call, as it turned out.
Concussive trauma was not what killed him.
Going to kill him.
Whatever.
Returning to the handlebars, he locked a grip on both sides and took a deep breath. Swinging a leg over the seat went… as badly as he’d thought it might. He was uncoordinated, unbalanced, and weak. But when the seat hit his ass—or the other way around, as it were—he felt an unfamiliar feeling in the center of his chest.
And gee whiz, it wasn’t heart failure.
He felt… like he’d accomplished something. There was just so much damned failure lately, even though the cancer was out of his control.
Moving his hands down to the tank, he felt the cool metal under his mostly numb palms, pointed both his toes so that the balls of his feet were on the concrete under the tires, took another deep breath… and swore to himself that he could smell the gas and the oil.
Where the hell was the key? he wondered.
Six months ago, he’d had it as he’d driven the bike in here and parked it facing out—as he’d fully expected to keep taking the Harley out for a spin now and then. Now it was November, and all he had was the memory of turning off the engine, dismounting, and walking over to close the door. At the time, he’d had no clue that it was his last ride, but life was like that, wasn’t it.
You didn’t always know something was over at the time.
Where the hell had he put the key?
In the pocket of his baggy pants, he felt his phone vibrate as someone called him. He let the rhythmic pulses go, leaving the thing where it was. No doubt it was Lydia wondering where he was. He should go back to the clinic—
“Will you take me for a ride?”
At the sound of her voice, he was momentarily confused and looked down at his hips, like the cell had spontaneously answered and put her on speaker. But then he looked up to the door he’d just come through. She was standing there in between the jambs, her feet planted like she was prepared to argue with him.
Her tone was gentle, however. So was her expression.
“I’m sorry I was a shithead,” he murmured as he glanced back down at the bike. “Walking off like that. And if I could, I would like to take you for a ride.”
“You will. Maybe not today, but soon.”
“I don’t know where the key is.”
“We’ll find it.” As she came over, her trail shoes made no sound on the concrete. “It’s probably in the closet. Or somewhere.”
He made some kind of noise in the back of his throat because he didn’t know what to say—and then he wasn’t thinking about words as she faced him and lifted a leg over the tank.
“What are you doing?” he blurted.
“I’m getting on with you.” She paused in an awkward tilt. “Unless… you’d rather I didn’t?”
He assessed her grip on the handlebars, the way her weight was off-balance, the casual strength that was required to keep herself upright.
“Usually the passenger gets on the back,” he said. “But I’m not complaining.”
“Good. Because… here is where I want to be.”
And suddenly she was on the bike just like he was, her thighs split around the tank, her face in front of his, their knees touching. As he met her eyes, he became flustered, as if she were a stranger—and it gave him insight as to why she’d covered her breasts. Intimacy was like a muscle. If it was unused, it evaporated and left you vulnerable in ways you weren’t when you were with someone you felt close to.
“Hi,” Lydia whispered.
“Hi.” He cleared his throat. “Does Gus need me back in the lab?”
God, her eyes were beautiful, although he hated the sheen of tears that made them glow like sunlight through whiskey.
“Not right now,” she said softly.
Daniel took a deep breath. And another. “Sorry this is awkward.”
“It doesn’t have to be. It shouldn’t be.”
For a brief second, an old familiar flame lit up in his chest, and he focused on her lips. Talk about last time you did something. When had he kissed her last? Really kissed her—
“Kiss me, Daniel.”
Well, wasn’t she a mind reader. And as a stupid fear curled in his gut, he recognized the moment for what it was: If he didn’t bridge this gap right now, he knew there would be no going back.
“I don’t have much to offer you.” He cleared his throat as he remembered what his body had once looked like. “In terms of…”
He couldn’t recall when he’d had an erection last, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a permanent thing or not—or more accurately, he feared it was permanent.
Lydia brushed her fingertips over his cap, as if it were his hair. Then she blinked to keep her tears from falling. “Can I be honest about something?”
“I think you better be.” As he took another deep breath, he ignored the rattle in his lungs. “Now’s the time.”
She dropped her arms. Covered her mouth with her hand. Squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Daniel… I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss you so much.”
As she started to weep, he put his hands on her shoulders. Considering he’d been braced for her to say she was leaving him?
“Come here,” he choked out.
Lydia caved into his chest, and as he wrapped his arms around her, he felt stronger somehow.
“I haven’t wanted…” She hiccupped. “I want to be strong for you. You need to concentrate on getting through everything, and I don’t want you to think I’m not strong. That I’m not…”
She was babbling as she cried, the flood released, all the tension in her let go—everything he had sensed was kindling beneath her surface out in the open.
Closing his eyes, he stroked her back. “It’s all right. You can say all of this.”
“I can’t. I have to keep it—”
“Lydia.” When she straightened, he brushed her tears away. “Just because I’m not physically strong, doesn’t mean I can’t lift you up. I can handle your emotions—”
“But—”
“No. No buts. If you can’t be real with me? We’re going to drift apart before I’m gone—and how fucking stupid is that?”
She sniffled. “I feel so out of control.”
“That’s because you are.” He wiped his thumb under her eye. “Neither of us is in control. And it sucks—and I’m glad you’ll miss me. I want to hear that. I… need to. Otherwise, I don’t know where you are, and my mind spins into places that are even darker, you know.”
As Lydia nodded, she looked down. Then she pulled the hem of her turtleneck out and wiped off the gas tank. “I’ve cried all over your bike.”
“It’s a Harley. It runs on the mournful tears of unforgettable women.”
She laughed. “That makes no sense.”
“Okay, fine. Plain old unleaded does the trick, but I was trying to be romantic. I’m not very good at that, though.”
Her smile was lopsided. “You do okay.”
“Not lately.” He ran his hand up her arm. “I miss that.”
“Me, too.” As his eyes went to her lips, she touched them with her fingertips. “I miss… that part of us.”
“Me, too.”
As she reached out to him, her hands were gentle as they caressed his face and drifted onto his shoulders. For a split second, all he could think of was how withered he’d become, and the pain in his chest about how he couldn’t be a man with her anymore was nearly crippling. But then she was clasping his palm, bringing it forward… and cupping her own breast with his hand.
Daniel closed his eyes again, this time with reverence.
“Kiss me,” she said. “We don’t need to go any further than that. But just… let me feel your mouth on mine. Please.”
As he hesitated, the barrier of her robust health seemed just as much of an obstacle as his illness, the distance between them nearly impossible to cross. Except just as he had left the examination room down in the lab and ended up here without conscious thought… he leaned in to her with no clue that that was what he was going to do.
Daniel was suddenly just… there. Tilting his head. Closing the final inch. Putting his mouth…
… on hers.
Lydia’s lips were so soft, softer than he remembered, and as the sensation registered, he realized it was the first comforting feeling he had experienced in—God, he had no idea how long it had been. And it was good. Caressing her mouth with his own, everything faded away, from the stiffness in his lower back, to the pain in his ribs and shoulder from the tumors, to the cold that he felt in his feet and hands. He stopped thinking about the blood tests. The results. The future.
The instant became all that he knew.
Oh, to put the burden down.
This was what he’d been searching for when he’d poured that Jack or tried to inhale that fucking smoke. This return to what he had once been—
All at once, he kissed her properly, licking his way into her mouth, spearing a hand through her hair, caressing her breast through her turtleneck and her bra.
And she moaned, as if she liked it as much as he did.
Moving his hands down to her waist, he wanted to pick her up and put her on his hips, but he didn’t have the strength. She knew what he was going for, however. With careful moves, she shifted herself into place as he inched farther back on the seat to give her some room. She had lost weight, too, her ribs more pronounced, the curves of her hips sharper—except he couldn’t think about the why of it all. Not right now. He wasn’t wasting this moment.
Continuing down her thighs, he remembered the feel of them naked around him and the images that flooded into his mind consumed him. He saw her arching back as she orgasmed, her breasts rising up, her nipples—
Brrrrrrrrrr. Pause. Brrrrrrrr. Pause. Brrrrrrrr.
They separated and he leaned to the side. His phone was going off in his pocket, and thanks to his loose pants, it was vibrating on the seat.
Meanwhile, Lydia’s breath was pumping in and out of her, and he made sure to catch a mental snapshot of her with her face flushed and her lips parted.
“You better answer it,” she said. “In case it’s Gus.”
Fucking hell. They couldn’t have ten minutes alone without cancer barging in?
“I’m not finished with you,” he vowed as he reached back and took the phone out.
“Who is it?”
Daniel frowned at the number. “It’s not Gus. I’ll tell you that much.”
FIFTEEN
AS DANIEL ANSWERED the call, he watched Lydia ease back onto the Harley’s gas tank and handlebars. He had to imagine that the contours were at odds with her spine, and it was clear the gauges prevented her from having a head rest, but she didn’t seem to care. Not with the way she was looking up at him from behind hooded lids—and man, that stare was the medicine he needed. In this moment, right here, right now, she didn’t appear to see the knit cap on his head, or his sunken eyes and cheeks, or his narrow shoulders—
“Hello?” came the female voice over the connection. “You there?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
Lydia reached up and ran a hand down the side of her throat… and over her breast. As his brain scrambled, he tried to concentrate on the voice in his ear, but it was hard as she toyed with her taut nipple.
“I’m sorry if I was a bitch earlier,” Alex Hess announced.
“You’re welcome—” He cursed. How the fuck did people talk to each other? “I mean, no problem.”
Lydia brought her free hand up to her mouth, and caressed her lower lip, as on her breast, she circled, circled… circled what he desperately needed to suck on.
“Listen… I’ll meet you tonight, if you still want,” the woman who called said.
Daniel swallowed. Licked his lips. Tried to remember how his woman tasted.
Decided to find out.
Except then the phone call sank in. “Yes, we’d like that.”
Lydia’s hand stilled and then dropped down to her waist. As she cocked an eyebrow, he held up a finger for her to hang on a sec.
“What changed your mind?” he asked.
Alex Hess? Lydia mouthed.
When he nodded, she sat up and shuffled back a little. Then she lifted her palms, as if to say, Now, what?
“Hello?” he repeated.
That deep, intense voice on the other side dropped even lower. “I’ll explain when I see you.”
This is for Lydia, he reminded himself, as the hassle suddenly seemed like a waste of time.
“Fine. Where?”
“Deer Mountain. Up on the summit. That’s where we need to go.”
“What time?”
“I’m off work. So midnight.”
“Okay. We’ll see you then.”
As the call was cut, Daniel tried to put his phone back where it’d been, but between the shaking in his hand and the thin slot of the pocket, repeated attempts failed and he didn’t want to drop the thing.
“So is that cool?” he asked. “We go meet her at twelve tonight?”
Lydia sat up. Backed up farther. Put her hands on his legs. As she rubbed up and down his thighs, he could tell that she was keeping her touch light, and he wished he didn’t appreciate the awareness. He wished he didn’t need it.
“What,” he said as she didn’t reply.
“I’ll absolutely meet her. I know it’s important to you. But why the mountain?”
Daniel swallowed a curse, though he wasn’t frustrated with her. He just knew what she was thinking. “I can make it up there. The Wolf Study Project has an ATV, right—and I know the gas pan was fixed because I was the one who repaired it. We’ll just park at your work and take it up the trail.”
“Did she say where on the summit?”
“Where the overlook is, I’m assuming.” He shook his head. “I know you hate that hotel across the valley. I do, too, but we can suck it up for an hour.”
He was pretending that the sight of that enormous monstrosity of a resort was the problem. And the fact that he didn’t have the energy to argue about whether he had enough energy to make it up the elevation on a four-wheeler, much less meet with some stranger over something as stressful as Lydia being left alone in the world, was probably the best commentary on his fitness for the plan there was.
