A number of missed messages flashed across the screen of Jason’s phone from Silas. His brother had been trying to reach him. He clutched the phone near his chest as if the thing was an anchor, a talisman against what was happening in that room.
Ms. Matthews gripped Jason’s lower jaw and forced him to look at her. “Such a pretty face. Don’t feel guilty about this, darling. We’re just two people taking solace from an unforgiving world in the safety of each other’s arms.”
“There’s only one person here with anything at stake.”
“Hey, you signed up for this. Do I need to remind you—?”
“No. I remember.”
“Then I’ll see you next… assignment.” She unlocked the door and Jason bolted.
The scene faded, and so did Selene. She came out of his memories, exhausted and feeling filthy. She’d expected to experience the night Jason had learned of his parents’ and Jessica’s murder, but that wasn’t his darkest moment after all. Instead, she’d witness a level of manipulation and abuse that made bile rise in her throat.
Once she’d collected herself, it took her a moment to realize she was still perched on the table with Jason awake but unresponsive between her thighs. Promptly she removed her hands from his chest to halt the ritual.
And watched him collapse on the floor near her feet.
* * *
Jason hitthe floor and rolled onto his back. Everything hurt as if Selene had reached down his throat, grabbed his intestines, and wrapped them around the bumper of a moving bus. He curled on his side and heaved. There was nothing inside him to come out. Truly nothing. He felt like an empty husk.
“Just lie still,” Selene said softly. “You’ll be all right. You just need rest.”
He couldn’t have responded if he’d wanted to. His body shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering. Every sweat gland seemed to open at once, quickly soaking through the front of his shirt.
She pressed two fingers against his neck and frowned. “Let’s get you into bed.”
Hooking her hands under his armpits, she dragged him into the bedroom and lifted him onto the mattress, a feat that wouldn’t have been possible had she not been a werewolf. His muscles were useless, twitching things. He couldn’t help her or fight her.
She unbuttoned his wet shirt and rolled him out of it. There was nothing sexual about the act. If anything, it was humiliating, although he was too tired to register that particular emotion. He blinked, and she was gone.
When he opened his eyes again, Selene was wringing a washcloth in a basin. She lifted one of his arms and scrubbed. She rinsed it out again. Jason closed his eyes.
He opened them again, and he was in his pajamas. She was there, sitting by his bed, watching him. She’d changed her clothes. He closed his eyes again.
“Time to eat,” she said. She was holding him up, spooning soup into his mouth. She’d changed her clothes again. This time she looked worried. He glanced at his useless hands and noticed symbols painted on his palms. He was too weak to ask why they were there. He closed his eyes again.
She was rolling him over. He blinked and rubbed his face. He heard her exhale in relief. “Thank the goddess.”
He closed his eyes again.
“Jason? Jason.” Selene’s short, natural nails shook his shoulder, just below his Fireborn tattoo.
“Haven’t you had enough?” he asked, as if she were a lover who wanted another go. He laughed to himself. If only his exhaustion was due to marathon lovemaking.
“What? Jason, you have to wake up.”
He rolled over and looked at her, his face falling. “What have you done to me?”
She hesitated. “Do you think you can make it to the bathtub? I’ve filled it for you, and I’d like you to try to get up. You’ve been ill.”
He tested his limbs, then nodded.
Sitting him up, she swung his legs off the bed and helped him plant his feet. After a few false starts, she looped his arm around her shoulders and helped him to stand. Step by step they made their way to the bathroom where she undressed him like a child and helped him into the tub.
“You had a fever,” she said. “A high fever. But it’s over now.”
“Kill me,” he mumbled.
