Page 44 of Cold Moon

But that was silly. If I’d made him uncomfortable, he’d have told me. Nothing he’d done had given me any reason to worry.

So I shoved that down and went out into the lobby. The carpets there were worn navy, and had big, bright shapes with what looked like confetti sprayed across the pattern of them. Now, though, the carpet was faded and threadbare, and there was no sign of anyone in the lobby but a teenager behind the snack counter.

I followed Skye’s scent around to the theater’s bathroom, and the second I walked into the short, tiled hallway to the men’s bathroom, I smelled the acrid stench of vomit and sweat.

The door to the stall where Skye had collapsed was flung wide, his shoes visible against the floor. He was kneeling over the toilet, his hands braced on the seat, his knuckles stark white ridges where he gripped it.

“Skye?” My voice shot up in alarm. I raised my hands, unsure what to do. When I touched his back, his whole body convulsed, gagging over nothing.

He looked back over his shoulder at me, sweat on his brow, his lips trembling and slick. All he did was groan and drop his head against his arm.

My whole life, I wouldn’t forget the haziness in his eyes, the absolute dread and misery when he looked back at me.

I had to do something, but my fingers had gone numb and cold. I’d been there when Mom had started to have her fits, collapsing on the floor and seizing. She’d died.

And an icy spear went through my chest at the thought of Skye suffering and knowing there wasn’t a single thing I could do to help.

Only, it wasn’t down to me alone. Skye had a pack. The Groves.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, rubbing a firm hand against his back, touching his heated neck with my cold fingers. “It’s going to be fine. I’m calling Linden.”

* * *

It was onlyten miserable minutes before the alpha marched into the shabby bathroom, but they were the worst ten minutes of my life. Skye’s eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t tell if he was sad or embarrassed or in pain.

All three, likely.

Between heaving, he gasped out, “I’m sorry,” over and over. Didn’t matter how many times I told him it was fine and he had nothing to be sorry for and all I wanted was for him to focus on breathing and being okay, he was still miserable and shaking.

It was a relief to step out of the stall and have Alpha Grove there with his firm, steady hands to take control of things.

He passed me an empty popcorn bucket and helped Skye to his feet. There, he checked his pulse and tested his temperature with the back of his hand while I held my breath.

“I brought my car. Can you walk?” Alpha Grove asked gently.

With a hard swallow, Skye nodded. When they walked past me, Linden kept his arm around Skye’s waist, and Skye grabbed the empty bucket from my arms, holding it in front of himself as he trudged through the lobby to where Linden’s silvery SUV was parked out front.

I’d like to say I’d never felt more useless than I did following them to the car, but truth was, it was pretty on brand for me. Still, I slid into the back seat and nobody said a bad word about it.

Back in the clinic, I tried to give them their space. It was incredible, how much of this was by rote for them. Skye knew just where to go, where to put himself and what Linden was going to do. And, despite the terseness in his expression, Linden went through taking care of him with quick efficiency. He was worried about dehydration and Skye’s blood pressure.

Soon, Skye was lying in a bed, propped up by pillows and the bend of the thing itself. He had an IV in his arm, a sensor on one of his left fingers to monitor his pulse, and a cup of cold water on a table stretching across the bed.

“Did you eat anything weird at the theater?” Linden was asking. “Even a piece of candy.”

Skye scowled his way. “Nothing off my diet. I had breakfast at Chadwick’s, like normal. Then you saw lunch when Skip brought it. We were going to eat after the movie.”

Okay, so I needed to get over myself and ignore the prickle of jealousy at the idea of someone else bringing Skye food.

Probably.

Maybe.

Or I could let my wolf have its way and growl Skip into submission.

“I had a couple sips of tea at the Hills’,” Skye continued with a grimace at me, like he was worried about getting Barbara in trouble.

At that, I had to shake my head. “Not possible. Barbara and Henrik have been really careful about Sterling products. And Ridge—he’s there so much. No way he’s letting it sneak in.”

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