Page 62 of You're Not My King!

Fiona looked crestfallen, as if I’d stabbed a knife straight through her chest, but she nodded. “I’m sure Zae’l is going as fast as he can. I didn’t anticipate a fever coming on so quickly, or at all. I thought the paste would stall it. I thought we’d have more time…”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t?—”

“I know, love.” She cut me off, sighing and patting my shoulder. She understood. “Let’s move him to the bed, eh? He’ll be more comfortable.”

After some hesitation, I reluctantly let go of Vo’ak’s hand, giving Nie’tr and Ok’tna space to pick up their leader and lay him gently on Fiona’s pile of furs. I covered him with the thinnest pelt for modesty, and kept dampening his head with cool water, desperately trying to bring down the fever.

Ok’tna stormed from the tent, swearing to find his brother, and it seemed no one had the heart to tell him it was too late. Fiona’s eyes were dewy and red-rimmed, and I’d caught her lip wobbling more than once whenever she spoke. She was trying to be brave—for herself or for me, I couldn’t tell—but it was obvious she was hanging on by a thread. Nie’tr, on the other hand, looked ready to burn the whole world to the ground, and too soon, he pinned me with a sad smile before leaving, too.

I would have joined him in his rage, if I’d had the energy.

“I’ll stay with Puka tonight,” Fiona said, her voice scratchy. “Her tent is close by, so I will hear if anything… Well. Whatever happens.”

Words stuck in my throat, so I could only nod. How had the day gone from choosing a path toward the rest of my life, to realizing my feelings for the fucking idiot who’d bought me, to everything falling apart within hours. I obviously didn’t deserve my happy-ever-after. Or, once again, I’d chosen the wrong one—taken the selfish option of love instead of forgiveness. Either way, this was to be my punishment. The worst one yet.

I had to watch my mate die—the only being in this shitshow of a universe who had made me feel like I was worth something—and know that I was the reason for it.

As soon as Fiona left, my mask of composure, my defenses, crumbled to dust, tears flowing freely, like trails of fire burning my face. Vo’ak was shivering, but his skin was hot, hotter than usual, and the water was doing nothing to bring down his temperature. He was deteriorating too fast. The red hue of his scales was dull and clammy, his heartbeat so faint it was almost undetectable, and my hope was fading.

I was going to lose him.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Inching close, I leaned in, brushing a wet, lingering kiss over his lips. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” I rasped, tears cascading, landing on his cheeks. My heart was shattering. “P-Please. I can’t lose you, too. I need you. I didn’t realize how much, and I’m sorry I’m too late, but please wake up. I… I love you.”

I wept until nothing more came out, until my body started to shut down, swaying with exhaustion, eyelids drooping. Too weak to fight it, I crawled into the small space beside him, tucking myself under his arm and snuggling in tight. Even without his fingers combing through my hair, and those soothing rumbles in my ear, I drifted off, throat sore, and every part of me aching.

My last thought was a plea to whoever was left to listen…

Please, don’t take this one from me.

Let me keep him.

VO’AK

You have to wake up… Wake up… Please, wake up…

The sweet plea beckoned me from the void of nothingness, recovering my senses.

I need you… You promised…

Roo-bin?

Stay with me.

My heart clenched as a flicker of yellow light invaded my vision, warmth soaking into my side, a cloud of familiar scent in my nostrils. I licked my dry lips, drawing my heavy arm around the snoring bundle until the sound ebbed and a curious hum took its place.

“Yew-r awake,” Roo-bin startled, sniffling as he rose to sit. His eyes were red rimmed as if he had cried himself to sleep. He looked exhausted.

“C’karuucha?” I reached out to touch his cheek, ignoring the pain in my chest as my body yearned to feel his skin, to assure myself that he was not a delusion. “My Roo-bin.”

“Fee-oh-nah!” he called, shifting on the furs to gaze down at my prone form as if seeing me for the first time. “I thought…” He shook his head, a tear dribbling down the side of his soft face. “Doh-nt ever do that again, you big, duh-m-bah eed-ee-ot.” He leaned in to press his plush mouth against mine, so gentle and cautious, but still desperate and relieved.

It was over before I could taste him or reciprocate.

“You really scay-red me,” he added, voice climbing to a squeaking pitch. “You came back looking lyk-a pin-coosh-un and I coo-dunt do anything to help. I thought you were dead, and…”

I drifted from his rant, my ears barely able to catch a rushed word here or there, but I could not stifle the warmth and fondness that bloomed in my chest at seeing my mate again. At observing his vigor when I had not known if I would. I had not expected to ever lay eyes on his delicate, pale features again, but lying there, seeing the obvious worry on my hoo-man’s face as he rambled in a language I did not fully understand had my lips curving into a joyous smile.

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