“This is the way it has to be” was all he answered, his lips pursed. “My family is on the plane, and I’m going home.”
By family, he meant Valerie and Blake. Not Cinder, who was also on the plane, fuming mad again.
He grabbed his thigh, and I still refused to meet his gaze. “You sent pain my way? Really? Using your powers to do what, get me to change my mind?”
“Tulya is spent, and who knows when she will wake up. Our mother is in some sort of state, so much so that the Minister is intervening. And Ezza is breathing down my neck. No one can help you now.”
“When will you stop following every rule? When you realize you feel something for Tuvy and don’t want to marry who Mom has set aside for you? Is that when? These Rubian customs are old, and I’m not. Blake cannot be separated from her mother.”
I finally turned to face my brother, my eyes tiny slits. “I don’t feel a thing for Tulya other than understanding how used up she must feel. I’m in the same position, except I’m not lying anywhere lifeless.”
“It’s time you took control of your own life, bro, and stop harping on me.”
“Whatever. Go and do your damage. I have to go tend to Tulya, possibly indefinitely. Since you’re returning with Valerie, the medic may not come.”
I’d explained this to him, but he’d refused to bend. He wasn’t allowing Blake out of his eyesight, which was the only thing I agreed with him on. Valerie was a wild card, which was why he was a fool to bring her back to Rubia. Cinder had traded her pain for anger, and she was bleeding rage. There was no talking with her. All of this left me helpless in pleasing Ezza and my mother, and securing help for Tulya. But Magnum couldn’t care less. He was totally focused on his human love.
My phone buzzed and dinged my whole drive back to the hotel, and I ignored each and every sound.
Stopping at the front desk, I asked for several buckets of ice, sparkling and still water, and a fresh bottle of scotch to be delivered to the room. I cursed myself all the way upstairs for leaving Tulya, but I had no idea who would have stayed with her otherwise.
Rushing through the door, I clocked her lying still on the sofa. I made quick work of checking on her chest, confirming she was breathing. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead, and I took it as a good sign. Maybe it meant she was fighting back against whatever was attacking her—
Without time to dwell, I got out of my suit and shoved on jogging pants and a T-shirt in time for the doorbell to ring. I snatched the tray from the room service attendant, handing him a fifty and scooting him away.
“Tulya, I’m here,” I whispered, taking one of the cloth napkins and filling it with ice, and tying a knot. Bending over, I softly lifted her head up, my hand at the nape of her neck, and placed it underneath.
Jetting off to the bathroom, I ran a washcloth under cool water and returned to spread it over Tulya’s forehead. Then I poured myself a scotch, switched my phone off, and sat down on the floor next to the sofa. This was how I spent the night, alternating between refreshing the cold cloth and the ice, running ice cubes over Tulya’s perfect lips, and downing scotch while sitting on the carpet.
Surrendering to the exhaustion, I must’ve dozed off at some time in the middle of the night, and as I drifted back to reality, the sun starting to come up, I heard rustling on the couch. Quickly getting up, I sank back to my knees and stared at Tulya, her eyes half open, staring at me.
“My sweet Tulya,” I murmured, my hand finding her clammy cheek. I was stuck in time, unable to move, watching the weak woman in front of me blink her eyes.
She ran her tongue over her lips and I realized she must be thirsty. Jumping up, I poured her a water and brought it back.
“Here, I’ll hold it,” I said, helping with my free hand to partially sit her up, lifting the glass to her mouth.
She took a tiny sip and then lay back. Waving her hand in front of her face, she shook her head and then motioned with her finger for me to move. I skidded a few paces back when she leaned over the couch and threw up on the carpet. With a tear rolling down her cheek, she squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “My Lord.”
“Shh,” I said, coming to her midsection and guiding her to sit. “Let me run a bath?” It came out as a question, while Tulya started to scratch her neck.
“Did it work?” she managed to croak out, her nails doing a number on her soft skin.
I placed my palm over her fingers, stilling them, and nodded. “You seemed to slip into a deep sleep. I’m not really sure what to call it,” I explained as best I could.
“But did it work?” she asked again.
I nodded.
“Is Valerie okay?”
I found it interesting she asked about Valerie before Cinder, but judging by the way Cinder was acting, I couldn’t blame her. “Yes, she’s fine. At first, she felt hurt. But she is all right.”
Despite my trying to stop her, she began to scratch herself again, dragging her hand to her arm, her red hair wild around her face. I wondered how I could help—more than I already was.
“I don’t feel well” was all she said before lying back down, her hand furiously going at her forearm.
My gaze moved there, and I noticed red hives or welts beginning to litter her skin. A quick check of her neck showed the same red bumps. My hand moved to her forehead, but she showed no sign of a fever. “I think you’re having a reaction.”
