Not now.
She tried to focus on the kiss, his heat, anything but the warning signs.Sergei’s mouth moved to her jaw, neck, stubble scraping her skin.Her head fell back, even as her vision blurred slightly at the edges.
Another tremor hit her arm, stronger.The metallic taste sharpened, copper and fear mixing.The focal seizure was building, ready to steal control.Here, in Sergei’s arms, her defenses lowering.
She’d been here before.With Kieran, two years ago, when she’d trusted someone with her all.He’d backed away at her seizure, face cold with pity.She’d cut him off.
Sergei’s mouth returned, hungrier.She kissed back fiercely, outrunning the seizure, his growl vibrating to her core.“Sergei,” she murmured, a warning, her arm spasming again.
He pulled back, eyes sharpening from desire to concern.“Keisha?What’s wrong?”
The light above blurred into a smear.Her vision tunneled, walls blurring in her peripheral vision.Shame burned, her words slurring.She stepped back, legs wobbling.
Tiana’s soft snore came from the room, unaware.Sergei’s hand assessed her face, not passionate now.“You’re having a seizure.”
“I’m fine,” she lied, her right side jerking.
His arm tightened, supporting her.“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
Her knees buckled, falling against his chest, consciousness fragmenting.Sergei lowered her to the floor, gentle, efficient.
“Stay with me,” he said, his voice steady.
His face was her last clear image before her vision blurred completely, only his hands and voice solid as the seizure claimed her.
Keisha surfaced slowly, Sergei’s arm supporting her, concrete cold beneath.Tiana’s snores sounded, metallic taste lingering.Her right arm lay heavy, twitching faintly.Shame flooded her, Sergei’s gray eyes too close, seeing everything.
“Don’t try to move yet.”His voice was low, intimate in the cramped space.
But moving was exactly what she needed.She pushed against his chest with her working arm, needing distance, needing to reclaim some control.The seizure had been minor.A focal aware seizure, not a full tonic-clonic, but the exposure burned worse than any grand mal.He’d witnessed her weakness.Right after he’d kissed her.Right after she’d kissed him back.
“I’m okay, Sergei, drop it.”The words scraped her dry throat.
His jaw tightened, but he helped her sit, hand steady between her shoulder blades.She glanced at her watch.Around forty-five seconds gone.Not her worst.
“You should’ve said you were close,” he said, no accusation, just certainty.
“So you wouldn’t have kissed me?”Her voice edged, Kieran’s pity flashing.
“So I could’ve kept you safe first.”His answer disarmed her, care unyielding.
She looked away, legs unsteady as she stood.Sergei rose, supporting her elbow, electricity sparking, not seizure-driven.“Tiana needs the cot,” she said, the girl’s snores steady.
“She’s fine.You’re not.”He guided her to the cot despite her resistance.“Sit.Just a minute.”
Her body sank beside Tiana, who didn’t stir.Fatigue crushed, levetiracetam amplifying.She wanted sleep, but vulnerability cost too much.Sergei crouched, handing her water.Their fingers brushed, her skin tingling with his kiss’s memory.
A buzz cut through—Sergei’s burner phone, vibrating on the table.His expression hardened, lethal, checking the message.“Nadia,” he said.“Mikalai’s men are coming.Tonight.”
Her pulse jumped, adrenaline slicing fear.She touched Tiana’s shoulder.“Tiana, wake up.”
The girl stirred, eyes fluttering, fear returning.“What’s happening?”
“We gotta go,” Keisha said, ignoring her weakness.“Not safe anymore.”
Sergei slung a backpack over his shoulder, stuffing supplies.“Overtown safehouse.Nadia’s setting it up.”
Nadia’s name sparked jealousy, irrational.Keisha pushed it down.Tiana mattered, not Sergei’s taste on her lips.Her bag slipped, right arm failing, spilling wallet, phone.Frustration burned.Sergei gathered her things, eyes meeting hers—not pity, understanding.
