“Won't let you give up, honey,” he whispered, his lips pressed against the top of her head. “If it takes me until my dying breath, I am going to convince you that you are more than you could ever imagine. I am not going to let you die.”
January 23rd
7:39 A.M.
“Mmm,” Indigo moaned as she burrowed deeper into the warmth surrounding her.
For once, it wasn't too hot, nor was it too cold, and she felt like Goldilocks because everything was just right.
Just perfect.
Which should convince her she was still riding a fever high and being delusional, because when had anything ever been perfect in her life?
But for this moment, she wasn't going to overthink it, wasn't going to worry or doubt, wasn't going to allow her thoughts to spiral, she was just going to … be.
She had no idea how long she lay there, half-awake but not enoughto fully grasp where she was or why she felt so much better, but it was peaceful, calming, comforting. All things that had been missing in her life practically forever, she didn't have any real experience with them, understanding them in theory only.
Even those moments she’d spent with her ex-husband, that she’d thought were full of care, affection, and love, were now tainted because she knew he’d always looked down on her, always been stringing her along, although he’d never been clear about the reason, and to be honest, it didn't really matter.
With a contented sigh, she snuggled closer again, and it wasn't until she turned her head a little that she realized where she was and why she felt so cozy.
A soothing, woodsy scent filled her nostrils. It was all masculine and she knew immediately who it belonged to. Knew where she was, and her cheeks immediately flamed as embarrassment set in.
She was sprawled across Voodoo.
Her face was buried in his neck, his arms were locked around her, and she was draped more on top of him than not with their legs tangled together.
There were absolutely no memories of how she’d gotten like this. The last thing she could recall was Voodoo urging her to keep fighting, that she wasn't alone, and her life was worth living, and the voices in her head shouting at her that he was lying and everyone, herself included, would be better off if she were dead.
After that, she must have passed out, and Voodoo must have realized how low her body temperature had dropped and climbed under the blankets with her to try to warm her up.
Worse than that, she could feel skin on skin and knew that he was naked under there with her.
How utterly mortifying.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, immediately lifting her head to find him watching her with kind eyes.
“For what?” he asked, his voice a low, almost lazy rumble, like he’d been asleep and only just woken up.
“For making you get naked in here with me,” she replied, although she thought that was pretty obvious.
“Wasn't going to let you die.”
“Sorry,” she muttered again.
“What for this time?” he asked, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice, and the chest she was lying on shook with a chuckle.
“I let them get to me. The voices. Telling me to end it all. Normally, I'm better at ignoring them, but these last few days they’d been so loud it was getting harder and harder to resist.”
A hand coasted up and down her spine. “You’re sick. Sick enough that if you were anyone else, you’d be dead by now. Laid up in the hospital at the very least. Instead, you spent hours walking on a broken leg yesterday. Your system was just worn down to the point where you no longer had the mental reserves left to fight against them. Trust me, Indy, I know how insidious they can be, how believable they sound, how hard they work to convince you that not only are you better off dead, but the world will be a better place without you in it.”
“You have them too?” she asked. While Voodoo might be used to not being alone in this mess, she’d spent these last several months watching every other person brought into that facility as a test subject succumb to the drug’s effects.
“We all do.”
“How do you ignore them? Do they get better over time?” She might not know exactly how long it had been since Voodoo and his teammates had been changed, but she knew it was long enough for them to build a life.
“They get quieter over time. Always there but easier to ignore, less powerful, more annoying than anything else. At first, the only way we could all ignore them was because we had each other. We knew what our deaths would do to our teammates, and we used that as motivation when it felt like too much. But you …”
