He’d felt a similar feeling when he’d been with her in the sauna. That night when he’d buried his tongue between her thighs and brought her to orgasm in an attempt to ease her from the angels’ freaky mating heat. As much as he’d wanted to take her then, to sink into the heavenly warmth of her body, Oliver had run away from her, locked himself in his room, and banged out his own orgasm with his hand.
Yet that connection he’d felt with her then returned now. Heat replaced the ice in his veins, and he could’ve sworn something was coming alive inside him.
Bijou’s eyes shifted to him as though she felt whatever was emerging.
“Oliver?”
Her voice was distorted, as though he was hearing it from under water. For a moment he was confused. They were in a theater, not the swimming pool.
“Oliver!”
His body jerked hard, sending him back against the chair. Everything went fuzzy.
“I’ll get help, Oliver! I’m going to get help.”
He focused on her words, her panic registering, but he had no idea what was going on. His body was trembling … no, make that vibrating. More like a volcanic eruption.
His mouth opened to tell her he was fine, but no words came out. There was a twisting within his body, as though something was attempting to get out. There was no pain, just a sense of … emergence.
Oliver was seconds from panicking himself when suddenly his eyesight cut out on him, the room going black. All sound faded and then…
When he awoke, Oliver was in the infirmary, the bright lights overhead blinding him before he could stop his eyelids from lifting.
Fuck me.
He slammed them shut and exhaled heavily.
“Oliver?”
“It’s me,” he said, not bothering to open his eyes. “Could you shut off the lights, please?”
A second later, he noticed the darkness behind his closed eyes, so he made another attempt at cracking his lids. Slow and easy … yep. That worked. The room was dark except for a dim illumination coming from behind his head and the one from the machine standing beside the bed.
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes searching until he found Bijou standing near the door, her thin arms crossed over her chest, black sweater hitched just above the waistband of her jeans. He should not have been checking out her belly button, yet…
“You had a seizure,” a male voice said.
Apollo. Yay. Just what he didn’t want, an angel doctor poking and prodding at him.
“Have you had them before?” the doctor asked.
“Nope. Never. Maybe too much popcorn.”
“Popcorn won’t cause—”
“It was a joke, Doc.”
“Ah. Gotcha. But no seizures before?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me what happened? Did you notice anything just before you seized?”
He thought back to sitting in the theater, holding Bijou’s hand. That strange sensation inside him like something was trying to emerge.
“Nothing happened,” he blurted. “I was just sitting there and … well, you know the rest.”
“Perhaps it was the screen,” Bijou offered. “Hasn’t that happened before? Certain lights triggering seizures in humans?”
