Page 101 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
I stumble out of the nest, legs shaking so badly I nearly face-plant into the carpet. The bathroom. Need the bathroom. Need the toilet. Need to get this poison out of my system before it kills me.
The tile is cool under my knees. Thank god for small mercies. I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach decides to violently evict everything I've consumed in the pasttwelve hours. Which isn't much, but my body doesn't care about logistics.
Water. Champagne. Bile. More bile. The protein bar Phoenix forced me to eat earlier. All of it comes up in waves that leave me gasping and shaking and wishing I could just die already because at least death would stop this endless cycle of misery.
Another wave hits. I grip the porcelain like it's a life raft in a storm. My hair is plastered to my forehead with sweat. The leather collar around my neck feels like a noose.
When was the last time I felt this sick? Never. Not even during my first heat, the one triggered by my stalker's bite. This is different. This is?—
Poison. Someone poisoned me.
Bryan didn't just spike my drink with heat-inducing drugs. He laced it with something else. Something designed to make me suffer, to make me vulnerable, to make meneedhelp.
To make me easier to claim.
The realization hits at the same moment another wave of nausea does. I heave into the toilet until there's nothing left, until I'm just dry-heaving and crying and shaking so hard my teeth are chattering despite the fever cooking me from the inside out.
I need to tell someone. Need to call Phoenix and Rafael. Need to?—
The bathroom tilts sideways.
Or maybe I tilt sideways.
Hard to tell when the floor is rushing up to meet my face and the walls are doing that fun spinny thing they do right before you black out.
I hit the tile with a thud that I feel more than hear. Cool. The tile is so cool against my burning skin. Maybe if I just stay here. Just for a minute. Just until the world stops trying to shake itself apart.
My eyes close.
Thump thump thump.
Knocking. Someone's knocking on the adjoining door.
"Bells?" Phoenix's voice, muffled through wood and the ringing in my ears. "You okay in there? We haven't heard anything in a while."
I try to answer. Really, I do. But my mouth won't cooperate. My tongue feels like it's made of lead and my jaw won't open and everything hurts so much I can't remember how words work.
More knocking. Louder this time.
"Bells? Answer me. Please."
Still can't. Can't move. Can't speak. Can't do anything but lie here on this bathroom floor and try to remember how to breathe.
"Fuck this," Rafael's voice. "Phoenix, move."
A pause. Then the sound of splintering wood as something heavy impacts the door. Once. Twice. The third time the lock gives way with a sharp crack that echoes through my skull like a gunshot.
Footsteps. Running. Multiple sets.
"JesusChrist—" Phoenix's voice, much closer now. "Bells!"
Strong hands on my shoulders, rolling me over. I force my eyes open just enough to see Phoenix's face swimming above me, all worried blue eyes and furrowed brow.
"You're burning up," he mutters, one large hand pressing against my forehead. "Raf, she's—wait.What?"
His eyes have gone wide. Wider than I've ever seen them. He's staring at me like I just sprouted a second head.
Oh.
