I hesitated. My first instinct was to tell him no— I mean, I figured he’d see all the tubes sticking out of me and think I was a robot or something. He’d realize how sick I really was, get scared and run.
But I was tired of hiding it from everyone, and he was my mate. He had to see it sooner or later, no matter how self-conscious I was about it.
I removed the blanket. Ethan’s eyes fell downward. I showed him my pump, and his eyes traveled up the length of the tubes and to the bottom of my shirt as I began to explain.
“This syringe is filled with plasma, which carries the antibodies my immune system doesn’t make. The pump pushes the medicine into my subcutaneous fat layer through needles, and it’s absorbed there into my bloodstream.” I lifted my shirt to show him four butterfly needles placed in a semicircle around my stomach, kept in place by medical tape. “I usually do it in my stomach, but I can do it in my hips and legs, too. I try to rotate between my stomach and hips, so they don’t scar as badly. I avoid my legs because... you know, I need to keep those perfect for skating.”
“And this helps you?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. People who donate plasma are very important. They give me an added defense against infection. Without it, my body would shut down.”
Ethan nodded. “That makes sense. How long does it take?” he asked.
“Two hours,” I said. “Give or take. I have to do it every week.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Doesn’t bother me. Gives me an excuse to avoid everyone.”
Ethan laughed. “Typical Emma.”
He frowned as I pulled my shirt back over my stomach. “Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Though it’s getting easier now that my body is becoming used to it. It was painful in the beginning, but I’m doing better.”
“That’s good to hear.” He carefully ran his fingers over my hip. “Are there any side effects?”
“I get freaking starving,” I confessed.
My stomach gave a rumble, and Ethan laughed lowly. “As I can see. I should get you something to eat. Can’t have myonawilkegoing hungry.”
“It’s still early morning,” I said, though food sounded amazing right now.
Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “It’s almost noon.”
Shit, I’d slept in a long time. I really was sick. “But you were going skiing,” I protested.
“They’ll be fine without me. Not like I want to hear Delmare and Stefan bickering on the slopes.” Ethan chuckled. “Kiara and Alexei will be the only tolerable ones. Theo will complain endlessly about Odette not showing up.”
“She’s not coming?” My heart fell.
He shook his head. “No. She said she was busy.”
I frowned. Odette hardly hung out with us anymore. I didn’t know what was wrong with her.
“But if you hang with me, you’ll get sick.”
“Shifters can burn off viruses fairly quickly. If I get sick, I’ll be all right. I want to take care of you.”
This guy knew all the right words to say. “Okay, you win,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ethan beamed like he’d won. I drifted into a nap while he was gone. When I woke up, Ethan had returned, carrying a tray of chicken noodle soup with an electrolyte-replacing tea and a huge hunk of bread.
“You are a life-saver,” I said as I dove in. For as shitty as I felt, my appetite wasn’t diminished at all.
Ethan watched me eat. His eyes traveled to the infusion pump again. “Thank you for showing me,” Ethan said. “I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
I blushed— or maybe my temperature was just increasing, I didn’t know. “I wanted you to be the first,” I said. “Maybe now that you know, it’ll be easier to tell other people.”
