Page 8 of Healed

And now I was paying the price.

My tongue felt too big for my mouth, my lips were cracked and swollen, and every breath I dragged in made my ribs protest so violently that for one brief, glorious moment, I considered simply not breathing anymore and saving everyone the trouble.

Unfortunately for me, there was an annoying droning happening to the side of me, repeating my name over and over again. It sounded far too distressed to be Rachel, far too feminine to be Dante, and far too alive to be Gabriella.

“Luke! Luke, wake up!”

Oh, hell to the no. That was a step too far. Not content with simply screeching my name, the unknown assassin had taken it upon herself to shove me.

I forced one eye open and glared in the general direction of the noise, limply swinging my arm like a half-cooked string of spaghetti. “Imagine that, but with me at full strength. Maybe you’ll think twice before shoving a dead man.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Luke!” she said, shoving me again.

“That’s two,” I warned.

“I haven’t seen you in over ten years, but you’ve still not matured a damned bit.”

Hang on a minute…

I opened both eyes and took a moment to steady myself against the swimming room. This was definitely worse than any hangover I’d had, but at least I had a bit of experience with the old atmosphere sway.

“Mrs Rider?” I croaked.

What the fuck was happening?

“Michelle. It’s Michelle. I’ve told you this a million times.”

Gabriella’s mother? Here?

I had to be delirious. It looked like Michelle. It sounded like Michelle, but—

“No offence, but you look like absolute shit,” I heard myself saying.

Charming as always, Vienna, you old rogue.

“Right back at you, buddy.”

“You once said I looked like Thor.”

She laughed then. “That was Gabriella. I said you looked like a prick in a cape.”

“Thor never wore a cape.”

“I’m not having this argument again,” she snapped, shoving me for the third time.

“I’m dying here, Mrs Rider. Please.”

“You’re too annoying to die. You’ll outlive us all just to be spiteful.”

“You’re probably right,” I grinned back, and then found myself drifting back into the darkness.

“Luke,” she said again, leaning over me with one hand pressed to my cut and the other hovering near my face like she was debating whether or not to slap me awake. “You need to stay with me.”

I closed my eyes anyway, and then the sting of her slap snapped me back into the light.

“Dante hits harder,” I muttered, though the words came out thick and mangled, made worse by the fact half my face didn’t seem interested in working. I tried to move and immediately decided against it when pain tore down my side, wrapping around my ribs and dragging a hiss from between my teeth. “Fuck me. Did he use the pole again, or did the bastard drop a building on me?”

“No building,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to keep it steady. “Just half the men upstairs by the look of you.”