Page 34 of Loving Nightmares
“Or something,” he murmured, almost to himself. I would have asked what he thought it was, but Razar was distracting me with his cuteness as he started to feel my forehead. Well, it was cute until he started trying to order people around.
“Damian, can you grab her something to eat—”
“No!” I turned sharply to look at the man standing with Blackwell right behind the chair, both of them watching me with concern, the latter a bit more clinical as if trying to figure out how bad we were talking. “I donotwant to eat right now.”
“Crackers? Toast?” Damian asked softly, then looked towards Zain. “Didn’t we read that helps seasickness?”
“Yes.” Zain confirmed, and at my quizzical look added, “We looked up an article while we were in the car just in case.”
So freaking adorable. I couldn’t help but smile a little bit.
“Seriously, I doubt they have that. I’m sure it will go away, it’s just a little bug or something. We’ve been traveling a lot and been around a ton of people. Think about it—this is the first time I’ve been exposed to a lot of human germs.”
“I got sick once,” Amun said, and Ashur offered him a curious look. Nightmares didn’t get sick, so I was struck by the oddity as well. “It was when I was human, though. It was horrible. Human illnesses are horrible.”
I nodded in agreement. “But most are also totally minor. I’m sure I’ll be over it in no time—”
“You don’t have to reassure all of them just because they can’t control their reactions,” Saint said, approaching with a bag of crackers and some water.
Deciding to stand up and get some air, I narrowly avoided the stabilizing hand Razar tried to insist I needed and took the bag before walking towards the deck. I heard them talking behind me, and I tried to fight the urge to comfort them again. Saint wasn’t wrong in a way, but I also really didn’t think it was cause for concern.
Just to humor them, I bit into a cracker and swallowed it down.
I instantly knew it was a mistake. Without prelude, I leaned over the side of the boat and emptied my stomach of everything from the past twenty-four hours. My head pounded as I puked not once but four times, my throat burning. I could feel my men panicking around me, someone’s hand holding my hair back as I groaned, leaning against the rail.
Maybe they were right.Maybe it was something to worry about.
Yet as I laid with my head against the bar, just in case I was going to be sick again, I found myself feeling oddly better. Like whatever I’d needed to get out of my system was purged. The headache had even faded, leaving me with a feeling of relief. Although my throat still hurt terribly, and now I had the taste of bile in my mouth, which was totally gross.
“We should call in a doctor or go back to land to see one,” Zain suggested softly.
“We can tell him to turn around,” Blackwell agreed, his hand running up my back.
“She’s feeling better,” Amun said, silencing everyone. “I can tell she’s not as uncomfortable.”
“He’s right,” I murmured, further deflating against the rail. “I just need to brush my teeth and take a shower. Now it’s only my throat that hurts; everything else feels perfect.”
“Really?” Razar asked, his voice edged in caution. Cy appeared to my right, examining my face.
“Really.” I nodded.
Then I was picked up and lifted into Saint’s arms. I blinked in surprise but tucked myself against him, noticing that the man was unusually quiet. I couldn’t see his expression, but when we walked below deck, I realized that most of the others weren’tfollowing—which would have been odd if I hadn’t clued into Saint’s magic.
It was super tense—like more tense than ever.
“Saint?” I whispered.
His grip tightened on me but he didn’t say anything as we entered what appeared to be a bedroom, passing into the adjoining bathroom. I was a bit wide-eyed as he set me on the bathroom counter, going back into the bedroom and pulling my cosmetic bag from the suitcase on the bed.
Silently, he returned to the bathroom and took out my toothbrush, putting toothpaste on it and handing it to me. Only then did he meet my gaze, and I felt momentarily breathless by the concern there.
“Saint?” I said gently. “I thought when you said I didn’t need to comfort them that you weren’t concerned—”
“I’ve never seen you get sick before,” Saint explained, his eyes flashing with darkness. “I’ve seen a lot of sickness, flower, but I have never seen you get sick. It makes me…I don’t know what it makes me.”
“You mean sick people who have passed away?” I hazarded a guess.
He nodded, his eyes flashing with what almost appeared as momentary remorse, making my heart squeeze. Whenever Saint talked about death in a cavalier, violent fashion, it was easy to look past what it was that Saint actually had to do.
