Page 46 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
“I know,” he says quietly, and I think I feel his hand stroking my hair. “I know it tastes terrible. But it will help.”
The world spins away after that, fever dreams mixing with brief moments of awareness until I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
I wake to sunlight filtering through the trees and the absence of the burning sensation that has been my constant companionfor days. For a moment, I just lie there, afraid to move in case this is another fever dream.
But the ground beneath me feels solid and real, and when I carefully sit up, my head doesn’t spin. The overwhelming heat that has been radiating from my skin is gone, replaced by a normal body temperature.
Confused, I look around the clearing. Lucian is sitting by the remains of our fire, sharpening his knife with methodical strokes. Luna is curled up in a patch of sunlight, looking completely content.
I roll up my pant leg to examine my injury, expecting to see the infection that has been getting progressively worse. Instead, I find myself staring at wounds that are clearly healing. The swelling has gone down dramatically; the angry, red streaks that were climbing up my thigh have faded to nothing; and the edges of the cuts are beginning to close.
“What—” I touch the skin around the wound gently, hardly daring to believe it. The infection that should have killed me is...gone. “How is this possible?”
Lucian glances at me. “What is it?”
“My wound,” I mumble, stunned. “It’s better.”
He just arches his brows and returns to his knife, which is already ridiculously sharp in my opinion.
“Lucian, did something happen last night?” I remember the voices, someone holding me.
He frowns. “Like what?”
My lips part, and then I press them together. “Nothing. I must’ve been dreaming.” But I find myself unable to stop staring at him until we’re getting ready to leave.
As we continue walking through the forest, I can’t shake the feeling that something significant occurred overnight. My leg feels stronger with each step, the persistent ache finally fading. Whenever we stop and I take a quick peek at the wound, Ican actually see the flesh knitting together, the redness growing paler by the hour.
It’s miraculous. Impossible, really.
But how could Lucian have gotten a healing tonic in the middle of nowhere? We’re days away from any settlement, and mercenaries don’t typically carry around rare medical supplies. The more I think about it, the more confused I become.
Maybe it’s just a fluke. Maybe my body has finally started healing naturally after getting enough protein. Maybe the fever broke the infection’s hold, and everything is finally working the way it should.
I want to ask him about it, but every time I glance at his profile, I remember how he likes to needle me. He’d probably just make some cutting comment about my overactive imagination or tell me I was delirious from fever. The thought of his condescending expression makes my jaw clench.
“Jerk,” I mutter under my breath, kicking at a fallen branch.
“What was that?”
I keep my eyes straight ahead. “Nothing.”
“Did you just call me a jerk?” His voice carries that edge I’m starting to recognize.
“No.” I adjust my grip on my walking stick, though I barely need it anymore. “You must be hearing things.”
He stops walking, and I realize I’ve made a tactical error. When I turn to face him, his blue eyes flash with irritation and insult.
“Hearing things?” he repeats slowly.
“Well, yeah. I wasn’t talking to you.” I shrug, trying to look innocent. “Maybe you should see a healer about that when we reach civilization.”
“My hearing is perfect.”
“If you say so.” I start walking again, but he catches up to me in two long strides.
“I know exactly what I heard.”
“Then, why did you ask?” I shoot back, my own temper flaring. “If your hearing is so perfect, you shouldn’t need me to repeat myself.”
