“Plan,” Edwina said, appreciating Roscoe’s help.
They took Mikhail to a guest room, and he seemed relieved to lie on the bed with his eyes closed.
“I’ll watch him,” Edwina said.
“I’ll summon the healer and start researching the medical side.”He departed, leaving Edwina to her ruffled thoughts.What was she going to do if Mikhail didn’t improve?
Almost as if he’d read her fears, Mikhael cried out, his big body thrashing.“Bridget!”
Edwina’s skin turned icy cold.Had he shared a bed with the other woman?A growl rolled up her throat, fierce and mean.This was her mate they’d messed with, and if she got her hands on Smirnoff, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.
A woman arrived with a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches and left them with Edwina.Half an hour later, the healer came.
“Take a walk around the garden,” she ordered Edwina.“The fresh air will help you.Don’t worry about your man.I’ll take care of him.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry,” the healer broke in with her gentle voice.“Roscoe has told me everything.I’ll do tests.The drugs in his system are causing the problems.If he’s no longer taking them, his shifter half should help him heal.”
Edwina hoped the healer was right because if Mikhail didn’t recover, she would take down Smirnoff and his complicitous family.She’d unleash fiery hell on them.
Mikhailwokeslowly,hishead fuzzy and his body stiff and sore.Dappled light came through the curtains, and he blinked against the light, his eyes ultra-sensitive.Had he drunk too much?He cast his mind back, unable to grasp specific thoughts or an idea of what had happened.His mouth was dry, his throat parched.
“Mikhail?”
The feminine voice wasn’t familiar, but it held concern and caring, and he turned his head in that direction.It took him ages to focus.A brown-haired woman with bright green eyes sat on a chair near the bed.Those green eyes drew him with their familiar intensity.
“Who…” He licked his lips to ease the dryness.“Who are you?”
Emotions flickered over her face too fast for him to decipher, but uppermost was disappointment.
“I’m Edwina,” she said, her accent strange to his ear.“Are you thirsty?”
“Yes.”When he nodded, searing pain shot through his temples.
“And you have a headache,” she added, apparently reading him better than he could her.“I’ll get you a glass of water and headache tablets.No, don’t move.You haven’t been well and will feel weaker than usual.”
Mikhail was glad to obey because his muscles twanged a protest each time he moved.She was back in an instant and helped him to sit.White-hot pain roared through his skull, and a groan escaped him.He trembled, hot sweat coating his skin.Some of the water in the glass she held to his lips splattered over the side and onto her cream blouse.He half expected her to snap sharply because other people had when he’d vomited on them.Wait.The memory slipped from his grasp before he could squeeze it for truth or fiction.
“Easy,” she said.“Drink slowly.There’s plenty more water if you want it.”
The cool liquid soothed his parched mouth and throat.
“Okay,” she said when he ceased drinking.“I have something to help your headache.Let me get you another glass of water.”
He sat, half-reclined and shaking, waiting for the woman’s return.Weak as a cub.He gave a half laugh, half sob because he’d muddled his thoughts.The saying was helpless as a… Ah, heck.He didn’t know.Not that it mattered, but he hated feeling stupid.
“Here you go.”She steadied him while he accepted the white tablets from her.They differed from the others.They’d been a pale green and larger.Not that they’d helped much.
“Are these stronger than the green ones?”
“No, a different brand.We thought they might help more than the previous ones.”
He would’ve nodded, but his head throbbed too much, and he hated to make the discomfort worse.He shoved the two pills into his mouth and, with a shaky hand, drank water to swallow them down.
“Light,” he croaked.
“Is it too bright?”
