Zander watched her for long moments, cataloging her heart rate, her breathing, and finally returned to his laptop.
This time, he looked through the list of what the security teams would be looking for when they went through the rooms. He’d brought in extra people, so he’d have more teams working, and each suite would be searched by at least two teams. He was personally going to look through the rooms of his top four suspects.
They’d be looking for the obvious, like bottles of poison, but he didn’t figure it’d be that easy. Logically, they mighthide the poison in something marked as shampoo or conditioner, perhaps even lubricant.
He made a mental note to ask Emerald what they should search for, beyond a poison in some kind of container, and then sent an email to the head of security, asking him to organize his people into teams of five and send him the lists.
Emerald moved, kicking at the covers again, and he sensed more heat than before, her skin way more flushed, and he pulled ice packs from the small freezer, wrapped them in thin towels, and settled them under her armpits. He helped her get all the covers off, and then wet towels with cold water and draped them over her.
He changed the ice packs around her head out for fresh ones, and then pulled the towels off, waved them to get them cool again, and replaced them, one at a time.
She calmed, not fully awake, but no longer fully asleep, and he kept it up, working to keep her cool.
Until she was suddenly freezing, and he removed everything and piled the blankets on her again.
He’d seen illness before. Had watched humans and shifters fight through every disease and toxin imaginable over his centuries. But watching Emerald cycle through fever and chills with such violence — watching her body tear itself apart trying to purge the poison — made something primal rise in his chest.
He’d failed her. Someone had poisoned her under his roof, in his domain, and he hadn’t prevented it. He should’ve sent her away after the first poisoning.
When Emmy settled into restless sleep again, Zander returned to his laptop.
Twenty minutes later, she was leaned over the side of the bed, puking bile into the bucket. He rushed to her to hold her and support her, and gathered her hair out of the way.
When it passed, he used a cool cloth to clean her face with gentle hands.
“You’re doing well,” he told her, though she probably couldn’t hear him through the haze of illness. “You’re strong. You’re fighting. Keep fighting.”
Emmy’s eyes flickered open, unfocused and glassy. “Zander?”
“I’m here.”
“You are. Thank you. You were an asshole, but you’re being nice now.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I was, and I’m sorry for it, if it helps.”
“Just don’t do it again.”
Her voice was weak, and he doubted she’d remember this, but he still told her, “Promise.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m not promising not to be an asshole, because that’s apparently beyond my skillset, but I won’t ghost you after this.”
She was already unconscious again, but he stayed beside the bed for a long moment, one hand resting on her shoulder, before forcing himself back to work.
The kitchen staff had been sequestered, their rooms searched, and a vampire security expert had gone througheveryone’s memories. Zander hadn’t expected it to turn anything up, but it’d had to be done.
Two of the staff had some missing memories, meaning whoever had done the deed had needed to overwrite them seeing him. Or her. It’d helped them narrow down the time frame, but so far, that hadn’t helped.
Over the following hours, he helped her back and forth to the bathroom countless times, held her while she puked, and fed her ice chips every chance he got. He also helped cool her off when she was hot, or warm her when she was cold. And he swapped out the gel packs around her head every hour, since Spencer had told him it reduced her headache.
His boy woke after barely six hours of sleep, rumpled but alert.
How is she?
Zander gave him a rundown of the past hours, including the enema, and then told him,You need to hit the cafeteria for a full meal before I turn her over to you. If you want a shower, you should do that, too.
Spencer crossed to the bed, his expression softening as he looked at Emerald, then he met Zander’s gaze.You need to feed.
I do, but I’ll feed from someone on the security team. I have a taste for bear today.
Spencer walked into his arms, and Zander just held him, luxuriating in his boy’s heat and life force.
