Jerked awake, disoriented, heart pounding.
Took a second to place where I was. Then I saw them.
Open. Watching me. Clearer than before despite lingering fever.
We stared at each other. Him taking in everything, my face, our joined grip, the apartment, the IV, cataloguing details with that predator’s precision. Wary. Calculating. Fully present this time.
Dangerous even flat on his back. Felt it in the way he assessed me, like he was determining exactly how to kill me if necessary.
My breath caught. Fear spiked cold through exhaustion.
Froze mid-breath, caught holding him like I had any right to that intimacy.
Expected him to pull away violently. He did.
Yanked back, gaze going sharp with suspicion. That defensive wariness flooding in despite weakness, despite everything I’d done to keep him alive.
The warmth of his skin gone from mine.
Sat back, kept my palms visible. Non-threatening posture. Heart hammering. But ready to move if he tried to get up again.
Ready to try. Not sure I had the strength left to hold him down if he really fought.
“Hi.” Carefully. My voice came out rougher than I wanted, exhaustion making it crack. “You’re awake. That’s good.”
Tracked my every tiny movement. Not trusting. Not relaxed. Pure threat assessment, predator watching prey.
Felt it in my bones. Felt how easily he could hurt me if he wanted to. If he decided I was the enemy.
“I’m Clare. I found you in the alley. You were dying.”
Nothing. No recognition. No response. Just that flat, assessing stare like he was calculating exactly how much force it would take to break my neck despite the damage.
Probably not much. Running on fumes and desperation.
“Great bedside manner, Clare.” Trying for normal. For sarcastic. It came out shaky. “Very comforting. ‘Hi, you were dying.’ That’ll put him at ease.”
Tried again. “You told me your name was Xavier. Do you remember?”
Please remember. Please give me something that says this wasn’t all for nothing.
Something flickered there. Confusion bleeding through the wariness. Maybe pain. But no recognition.
The name meant nothing to him.
Didn’t remember saying it. Didn’t remember me.
My chest tightened. Of course he didn’t remember. Why would he?
His mouth opened.
Throat worked. Jaw moved, forming shapes. Lips parted, tongue moving behind teeth.
Nothing came out. Not even a whisper.
Tried again, more forcefully. Concentrating, willing sound to emerge. Cords straining in his neck, visible beneath skin.
Still nothing but air.
