Page 49 of Claimed By the Cowboy
“You know, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll lie down for a bit,” I say, rising from the table.
I make it to the living room before thedizziness hits.
It starts as a slight unsteadiness, but as I sink onto the sofa, the room tilts. Colors suddenly seem too bright, and everything goes soft at the edges.
“This is weird,” I whisper to myself, closing my eyes and trying to breathe deeply.
But breathing is getting harder. Not the familiar wheeze of asthma, but like something is coating the inside of my lungs, making it difficult for air to pass through properly.
The front door opens, and I hear Tom call out a greeting. Relief floods through me.
“Hey, darlin’,” he says, appearing in front of me with a smile that fades the moment he sees me. “You feeling worse?”
I open my mouth to reply, but forming words is too much of an effort.
He crosses to me in three quick strides, settling beside me on the sofa and pulling me against his side. His large hand cups the back of my neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there in the way that usually makes me purr.But today, even his touch can’t chase away the wrongness spreading through my system.
“You’re not running a fever,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to my forehead to check my temperature. The gesture is so perfectly Tom—practical care wrapped in affection.
“Probably… overdid it …in the garden,” I huff, leaning into his solid warmth, grateful for his presence. “I’ll… be fine.”
Tom’s arms tighten around me, and he goes very still.“Kitty.” His voice has changed, taking on the sharp edge I’ve only heard a few times. “Look at me.”
I tip my head back to meet his gaze, and his face swims slightly before coming into focus.
“Your pupils are dilated,” he says quietly, one hand coming up to cup my face. “And your lips have a blue tinge.”
“Blue?” I touch my mouth with trembling fingers. “That’s not... That doesn’t… sound good.”
Tom pulls out his phone, his voice suddenly sharp with command. “Delaney? Need you at the house. It’s Kitty.” Pause. “Dunno. Just getyour ass back here.”
My sister bursts into the house less than two minutes later. She takes one look at me curled against Tom's chest and goes pale. “Kitty, you look terrible.”She kneels in front of me. “Breathe for me, sweetheart—slow if you can. Any chest pain? Nausea? Did this come on fast?”
I try to answer, but the words stumble out in gasps. “Tight chest… headache… couple weeks… inhaler didn’t help.”
“It’s not asthma,” she mutters grimly, knowing the usual signs as well as I do. “Tom, she’s in trouble.”
“I know,” he says flatly. He punches three numbers into his phone, his free hand stroking through my hair in soothing motions. “...need an ambulance at Havenridge Ranch... respiratory distress, unknown cause... yes, she's conscious...”
Ambulance? The word penetrates the growing fog in my brain with sharp clarity.
“Tom, I’m… okay,” I protest weakly, trying to sit up straighter. “I don’t need?—”
The world tilts violently, and suddenly, I can’t catch my breath at all. It’s like trying to breathethrough a straw that’s getting smaller and smaller.
“Can’t”—I gasp, clutching at my throat—“breathe...”
Tom’s demeanor transforms completely. My gentle husband disappears, replaced by someone harder, more dangerous. But his hands remain infinitely tender as he positions me more upright against his chest.
“Easy, darlin’. Don’t panic. I’ve got you.” His voice is steady, but tension radiates through his powerful frame. “Focus on my voice. In and out. Match my breathing.”
But Iampanicking because something is very wrong with my body, and I don’t understand what’s happening.
“My chest,” I wheeze, pressing both hands to my sternum. “Feels like... closing up.”
“I know, baby. I know.” His lips press against my temple, breath warm against my skin. “We’re going to get you help. Just stay with me. Focus on my voice. In andout. Match my breathing.”
I try, but all I can think is that my worst nightmare is coming true.
