Page 40 of Seduced By the Mermen
"No, Grayson has accidentally intoxicated you." Forrest's voice has dropped a tone.
"Oh, that explains a lot." My jaw snaps closed. I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that's going to make me sober. Nope, the hallway is still rocking back and forth.
Grayson pulls back the comforter. "Put her on the bed."
"No, I... Can I use the washroom?" I catch Forrest's quick nod.
Zion's slow to put me down, and when he does, he holds my hands while I let the room stabilize. He leads me to the bathroom. It's light pink with cream walls. And it has me wondering if this was their former mate's room. But no, he said guest room, right? Annabelle has a massive suite for dressing and her clothes. One that she never uses.
"It's here. Do you want me to help you?" Zion asks.
"No, I'll be okay." In fact, I think whatever Grayson gave me has begun to wear off. I close the door on them all. Becausethey're all staring at me. Even Sterling's glare is more concern than judgment.
I hold the door shut behind me. There's not an ounce of me that thinks they'd push the door open. No, I'm more holding myself in. Keeping myself from inviting them in. I pivot into the bright space. White marble and steel are everywhere. The bedroom may not be a mermaid's suite, but this bathroom is something out of an architectural magazine, with a large tub that could double as a swimming pool, and a shower big enough for, well, not eight people but certainly more than one.What are you doing here, Blair Portsmouth?
I laugh because I haven't thought of myself as Blair Portsmouth in a long, long time.
When I'm done sitting on the cold steel toilet, I make my way to the marble sink. I'm done washing my hands when I catch myself in the mirror. Sure, I knew my hair had gotten longer. And I've been getting better sleep than, well, since before Marlee was born. Even with my pupils the size of my irises, I look better. No, I look hot. Sure, my skin’s a little pale and blotchy from having a mini psychotic break. The question is, now, what do I want to do about it?
The mirror forgotten, I'm staring at the door. The one with the seven sizzling-hot men behind it. I run my fingers through my hair, and pain shoots up my wrist. The memory of why they brought me here in the first place bubbles to the surface of my brain. But really, what am I going to do about it? I take a little longer. Wash my hands again. And splash some water on my face.
There's a knock on the door. Maybe I've taken too long.
"Blair? Are you doing okay?" It's Delmar, I think.
"Of course she's not doing okay. She's injured, and then Grayson poisoned her," Sterling growls. "We're coming in."
"No, we're not," Clark says. His voice is like chocolate. "Come out when you're ready." There's a pause, and then he says, "I can hear her moving around in there. Can't you? Or have you gotten too old?" There's another scraping noise on the floor outside the door.
And it takes me out of my daze. "I'm good. Coming out," I say way louder than I need to.
When I open the door, they're standing in a semicircle again. It's a lot, but I must have a look on my face that says I'm having issues, because they scatter like pool balls on a table: Grayson and Zion to beside the bed, Sterling in the doorway, and Clark and Alexei to the far side of the room by the curtains. Forrest and Delmar are the only two who stand their ground. And it makes me smirk. In a way, they're the two that are the most different from the rest. The youngest and the oldest in the pod. But now they both have the same intense stare and glint in their eyes, like they're going to protect me no matter what happens.
"Hi," I say and try to act natural. Whatever that is when you're in a bedroom with seven guys who have outright told you that they want you to be their mate. There's nothing natural about this. "I'm feeling better." It's sort of true... Wait, that's not what I wanted to say. Not the plan. "But I think I should lie down. Is that okay?"
"Please." Delmar ushers me across the room and tucks me in.
"Can I please bandage your hand now?" Grayson asks.
"No more giving her anything," Sterling growls, stepping into the room.
"It's gauze. I'm not going to use any more of our tech on her until I understand why she reacted that way," Grayson says over his shoulder.
"I'm doing better. I'm just tired." I smile around the room because it's true. "Would it be okay if I stayed here tonight and just slept?"
Most of the room says "Yes" against Sterling's "No."
Chapter 17
Grayson
“Can I see your hand again?” I ask Blair.
She places it on top of the blankets. I want to ask her if she wants to take off her heavy clothes, but not now. Not with us all in the room. It’s too much.
My block dings in my pocket. I told the hospital I’d be late this afternoon, but that’s come and gone. For the last two and a half decades, I’ve given them every spare minute. For the last five years, I’ve given them every minute of my life. But that ends here.
I arrange the primitive tape on her knuckles. “That’s not too tight, is it?” I secure the ends and glance up into her eyes.
