Page 86 of Just for a Taste

Then the full descent into nothingness.

Chapter 47: Conservati fedele

Ifaded in and out of sleep several times and was distantly aware of my surroundings over the course of an hour, in the way an insect was. A sterile scent overpowered the base notes of stone and mustiness—the unmistakable fragrance of the abbey. I was sitting up in an uncomfortable bed, and every time I moved, cotton rasped against my arms. There was a weight in my lap and heavily blunted pain all over my body. Eventually, however, whatever had numbed the pain wore off.

Finally, I became fully conscious. I was back in the abbey, tucked in a room I hadn’t seen before. It had been rendered into a makeshift hospital room, with a monitor at my side and a web of wires and sensors everywhere. Zeno was softly snoring through parted lips with his head in my lap and his arm reaching over my body to hold my hand. At the sight of him, the machine beside me beeped loudly.

The door creaked open, and Noor’s head poked into the room, followed by the rest of her.

“Good,” she said, setting a glass of water at my bedside. “You’re awake. I hoped it would go well.”

“I—” I tried to speak, but that single syllable came out as little more than a harsh rasp. My throat was painfully scratchy. I reached for the water at my bedside. It felt like sand going down. I blinked back tears and tried not to cough.

At my movement, Zeno’s lashes flickered open, and he sat up immediately.

“Cora,” he murmured, grasping my hands. “I was terrified you’d never wake up. I wasterrified.”

I went to speak and could not once again, but for an entirely different reason. I had known Zeno for months and had seen him at his highest and lowest. Only twice had he cried in my presence, and now, before my eyes for the very first time. At the sight of my loved one so despondent, it was impossible not to cry myself.

“Hey,” I whispered, catching one of his tears with my lips. “I know better than to go and do something like that.”

Zeno took advantage of my proximity and tilted his head up to kiss me. There was restraint in it, frustration at the web of wires holding him back from embracing me outright. I cupped his cheek in my hand and skillfully navigated him closer to deepen the kiss. I made my movements as fluid as possible to mask the fact that many of my tears were in response to the pangs of pain throughout my entire torso, the throbbing in my bandaged fingers, and the burning ache of my entire throat and jaw.

“Zeno,” Noor scolded. “Leave the room.”

The vampire pulled away from me and shot such icy daggers at her that, for a split second, I was convinced he’d murder her. But as I should have known, Noor had a vague understanding of how to herd the beast within the man.

“For Cora’s own good,” she added a bit more softly. “So I can focus on healing her.”

He shot me one last longing glance, then left the room like a dejected dog with his tail between his legs. If not for the confusion and searing pain, I would have laughed.

As soon as Zeno left the room, I let my body wilt.

“Give me a number for the pain,” Noor said, approaching.

“Nine,” I whimpered in return.

She held up a syringe of some sort of medication. “Would you like—”

“Anything!” I interrupted. “It hurts.”

She flushed my IV and then administered medication slowly. I already felt relief by the time the plunger met the barrel, along with a general feeling of ease. Another flush left me feeling warm, and it pleasantly numbed every ache. I exhaled and closed my eyes, tempted to drift away once more. Through my eyelashes, I could make out Noor’s impatient expression, jolting me back.

“What . . .?” I stared down at my body, utterly perplexed. I was a mess of wires and tubes, bruises and bandages.

Noor sat on the edge of my bed, which creaked in protest. “My knowledge of how you came to the hospital is secondhand. I will tell you that if you want, but I’d like to start with your medical state.”

Both were, I supposed, equally valid lines of questioning. I gave her a nod to continue.

“You arrived at the hospital nine days ago in critical condition with a variety of minor injuries, such as broken fingers. More concerningly, you bit through your tongue. Unfortunately, you inhaled quite a bit of blood when you lost consciousness. That, combined with four broken ribs—one of which punctured your lung—and an unknown amount of blunt trauma.”

“Jesus Christ.” I touched my hand to my side and found a massive bandage along it.

“That’s just from the chest tube,” she said, as though that would comfort me. “It came out two days ago. I’m going to monitor the sutures for a bit, but your lungs are looking quite healthy, especially considering the intubation.”

My hand moved to my throat. “I wasintubated?”

“Yes. Twice, actually. You were extubated for the second time two days ago.”

---