And just like that, I’m taking the stairs two at a time with Juniper in my arms.
She regains consciousness in the back of the car. I have her tucked against my pounding heart, and she’s sitting crossways in my lap. Torin is driving much faster than he should, and Archer is half-twisted in the passenger seat, biting his lip as he peers down at Juniper.
“What happened?” she asks, voice slurred.
Wanting to comfort her, I rub my hand up and down her back. “You passed out. We’re on the way to the hospital.”
She leans against me in a way that doesn’t bring me comfort. She does it automatically. As if driven to. I’m her mate, and biology is kicking in, reminding her of something she needs to survive.
“They can’t help me,” she whispers against my neck.
My gaze connects with Archer’s over her right shoulder. His forehead furrows, and without a word, he turns around to face the front, his lips compressed into a flat line.
She knows this is bond sickness, and that it can, and most likely will kill her.
And she didn’t tell us.
As expected, the hospital can’t do anything.
They give her a checkup, a shot of adrenaline, and a saline drip to treat dehydration.
That’s it.
That’s all they can do for her.
Two hours later, Juniper is napping in my lap as we take her home. She’s dozing as I carry her back up to her apartment, and Archer slips into our unit four doors away while Torin heads to the house to check on Veronica.
I get her settled in her bed, covering her with a comforter and walking over to stand at her window with my hands in my pockets. An hour later, I’m watching the sun finish setting when fabric rustles behind me.
I turn.
She’s angled her head toward me. I switched on the lamp beside her bed, leaving the ceiling lights off so the bright light wouldn't disturb her. It’s quiet in her studio apartment, with theoccasional burst of laughter and music coming from down the hall.
We study each other in silence.
Hoping I’m not doing the wrong thing, I walk over to her and sit on the edge of her bed to ask a question that’s tormented me for the last few hours. “Would you have told me you had bond sickness?”
She pulls her gaze from me with a soft exhalation. “Probably not.”
That hurts. Much more than I thought it would.
“Because you’d rather die than let us help you?” I ask, holding my breath as I wait for her answer.
“Because you’d use my bond sickness to make me go back to you.” She glares up at me as if daring me to try. “I won’t forgive you just because I’m sick.”
I stare down at her, shocked. Horrified. Angry. But not at her.
At me.
Igave her no reason to think she could trust me, and she doesn’t. My scent match has my bite on her throat, but she would trust a stranger on the street before she trusted me.
“I wouldnevermanipulate you like that, Juniper. There are no amends I could ever make for the way I treated you. If I could crawl across broken glass to show you how sorry I am, I would.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, her tone almost vicious.
“I ambeggingfor a second chance to make things right. I know I don’t deserve it, Juniper. No one is more aware of that than I am.”
She stares up at me, doubt filling beautiful, big, brown eyes.
