Page 36 of Blind Devotion
“Two days ago, you practically begged me not to. Now you’re practically egging me on.”
“I didn’t beg. I said I didn’t want to die. There’s a difference.”
“Not the way I heard it.”
“Nah, my self-respect’s a bitch. She would apparently rather I die instead.”
“There’s no fun in it if you see it coming.”
“Ha, well, I guess at least one of us is finding some amusement in this.” And yet, a sly smile tilted one corner of her mouth, putting those plush lips even more on display.
“How did you know it was me?”
“You think because I can’t see, I don’t have ears?” She chuckled, turning her head to face me as if she could see exactly where I stood. “You’re the only one who’s quiet. The doctors, physical therapist, the nurses, even my maid, Marie, barge in here without much care all day. You, though, you try not to wake me up, which just makes you stand out more. And let’s not forget your cologne.”
“What about it?”
A flush pinkened her cheeks. “It’s…well, everyone else is a woman, so…”
“I stand out more.”
“Not hard there.”
I glanced about the room, acknowledging its utilitarian design. There wasn’t much. I had set her up in the service wing on purpose. Granted, it was the largest of the staff quarters bedrooms, but there was little more than the bed, a side table, two chairs, a table, and a built-in armoire. The reason this one had been chosen compared to another was because of its en suite bathroom with the added balcony access. I never thought she needed more, not when she wasn’t supposed to last even this long.
“What do you do all day?”
“Seeing assomeonelocks me in?” she deadpanned. “Let’s just say making it to the balcony today without wanting to puke my guts up in pain was my crowning achievement.”
“That’s it?”
“I’ve gotten adept at talking and singing to myself. I sleep. I thrum my fingers against the bed, the furniture, the IV pole until I get sick of that. I try talking to the nurses when they come in for checkups, to poke and prod me, but they’re pretty close-lipped around me. Marie’s friendlier, but the guy at the door doesn’t let her stay long after dropping off food. One doctor checks my eyes, then practically runs out with barely a few words, and Dr. Conde, well, she just sounds like she’s in your pocket. So, conversations there are a no-go.
“Your sister hasn’t visited since I first woke up, not that I’m too hot on that. So yeah, pretty lonely, I’d say. Otherwise, I pace around the room. I’ve gotten up to handling thirty back and forths now without needing to sit down. Look at me go. Honestly, these”—she gestured vaguely between us—“whatever these moments are, are probably the most entertaining things to happen to me all day, every day.”
That twinge in my chest tightened. I massaged against it. “Then perhaps I should fix that.”
“You’re leaving?”
“You need your rest.” And I needed to get my head on straight. I was already up and out the door, firmly locking it behind me before her next protest came.
I stopped by at midday as a crew installed a television for her, just to check on their progress. I had a meeting in town soon. That changed when I found one of them leaning over Tessa as he was explaining the remote, more like looking down her gown. Her head was turned away from him, her spine rigid. A vein near my eye twitched, and my jaw clenched.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The guy jerked upright. His eyes widened, dropping Tessa’s hand. He’d been touching her while she’d been uncomfortable. I lunged at him.
His companion tried and failed to talk me down. He knew better than to try to pull me off the asshole. My fingers squeezed around the guy’s throat as he weakly pawed at me. His touch only made the instinct to kill that much worse. It crawled and burned from every feeble swipe he gave.
His face reddened as saliva bubbled out of his mouth and vessels popped in his eyes. My lips twisted in a sardonic smile. I loved watching abusers die. My own suffered painfully when my father went back for them. I remember every bit of the torture they endured.
An awkward pat to my ribs made me switch focus. Tessa. She was out of bed, her back hunched from the effort. Her hand slipped around my bicep and tugged. I expected to recoil and want to vomit from the touch. Instead, pleasant flickers of warmth spread from the connection.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m okay. Let him go. Please. He’s not worth it.”
Her fingers caressed their way down to my own. Everywhere she touched, my skin prickled with awareness. She plucked my fingers one by one off his neck.
The guy collapsed to the ground with a thud before his colleague helped him to his feet.
