Page 64 of Salvaged Hearts

“Hmm,” I murmured, working to find my voice as thatpound, pound, poundingassaulted my head, my eyes, my ears, and my spine. “Why didn’t you ask?”

I wokeup to the dull throb of lingering migraine, relieved to find my vision restored when I opened my eyes, though they loathed the slice of light from the ensuite bathroom, like a blade directly across my brain.

Greyson’s room was at least twice the size of the guest suite he’d designated for me. The curtains were still closed, a glimmer of light cutting through.

Still in my workout clothes, I stretched, inventorying the tension in my head and neck and feeling lucky it hadn’t been a bad one. Puking once in front of Greyson Hart was one too many times, thank you very much.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Leighton’s groggy voice warbled into existence as she sat up beside me, rubbing her eyes in the gloom. “You okay?”

“What’re you doing here?” I croaked, trying not to make any sudden movements as I came to.

“Grey called, silly. Told me what happened with the paparazzi bastards and that you went into an episode after.”

“What time is it?” I asked, entirely disoriented with the sunlight still coming through, though I felt like I was peeling myself from a comatose state.

“Slept through the night.”

Wincing, I slowly sat up, rubbing at my aching face and hoping I didn’t give thanks too soon as my stomach flipped.Greyson called my sister—likely had her brought over—because I had a migraine?

I’ve got you.

Harts take care of their own.

I should have killed that motherfucker.

Damn, the man was on a roll of disarming sweetness. Evidently, a woman in crippling pain was Greyson’s weak spot.

“I’m not sure what you put in that man’s morning cereal, but he paced like a feral tiger all night.”

“What?” I stammered, thinking surely I misheard her.

“I don’t think he slept, sissy. Every time I woke up, he was checking on you, or pacing the end of the bed. You’d think you were laying on the brink of death in the ICU for how frantic he was.”

Barely blinking, I hadn’t wrapped my mind around what she’d said when a knock on the door announced Greyson as he stepped into the room. On a whoosh of breath, he said, “Alice.” Beelining to the bedside, he asked, “You alright?”

I glanced between him and Leighton. She nodded softly as if encouraging me to talk to him, before excusing herself to the bathroom.

“Thank you,” I breathed, my hand coming to settle over the cross on my clavicle. It was then that I spotted the furry, anxious Shepard slinking into the room behind his human and settling at his feet.

“For what?” he asked gruffly, tone still quiet.

“For taking care of me.”

Silence settled between us as he nodded, bending to rub Captain’s ears. “Dr. Eastman will be by this afternoon to check on you.”

“They’re just migraines, Grey. There’s not anything they can do.”

“There was nothingjustabout that, Alice. There’s nothingjustabout randomly losing your sight in crippling pain. She’s the best. If anyone can get you answers, Dr. Marnie Eastman will. You need to tell her everything when she gets here.”

Throat tight, I went to answer, but the words died on my tongue. He was…taking care of me in a very bossy, intrinsically Greyson way. “Thank you,” I breathed. He gave a curt nod, evidently satisfied that I’d cooperate if nothing else. He rose and then patted the bed to prompt his doggo to take his spot at my feet.

“Rest, my clever Belle. The beast will leave you be.”

13

A Rather Tempting Kitty

GREYSON

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