Page 22 of Stolen Love

Rogue stops begging me to fight and a feminine voice fills the line. “Do you know what I would do if I were in your shoes? Haven’t I told you? Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

“Dizzy?” I gasp as I try to open the door and run from Alec. But the handle won’t turn. As much as I pull on it, it doesn’t budge.

“Oh, little bunny, you are not going to get away so easily.” Alec steps in close, framing me with his arms so that I can’t move. I can only turn to face him. He smiles that pearly white smile as he wraps one hand around my neck and starts to squeeze. “You were so devastated by what happened with Rogue Maddox that you came home and decided to end it. By the time I found you… called an ambulance… got you help… it was too late.”

The phone falls from my hand and bounces on the carpet. Dizzy’s voice comes through louder now as my lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. “We didn’t come all this way for you to give up. Show me you’re not the pathetic and weak person I’ve seen so far. You are stronger than this.”

“Do you think she’ll remember what happened here?” a strong masculine voice asks. It sounds so far away, and at the same time like it’s right inside my mind.

I stop struggling against Alec as my attention catches on the man leaning against the wall beside me. “West, help me! Please?”

West watches me with those dark, dangerous blues as dark spots dance in front of my eyes. The pressure in my head is immense.

One corner of his mouth turns up in a manner that is so familiar it grips my heart. He looks so much like Rogue when he smiles like that. Only there’s no sweetness to it, no warmth, not like there is with Rogue. He cracks his neck from side-to-side. “I’ve done all I can.”

“Please,” I beg as the feeling of Alec’s hand around my neck grows stronger and becomes unbearable. I can’t fight him off… I’m not strong enough… not yet… not on my own.

Alec holds up something that glints in the light from the chandelier overhead. A small metal blade. “One cut is all it will take.”

Oh my God. I fight harder, but now I’m fighting my own body. My limbs don’t budge no matter how hard I try to move them. When he spins me around and shoves my cheek against the wall, I open my mouth to scream but I can’t make a sound.

“Quiet now, Love.” West lifts one finger to his lips. There is a tattoo of a compass on the side of the knuckle. “I want to see if you have a spine.”

“Wake up, baby.” Rogue’s deep voice is rough with sleep. “You’re having a nightmare.”

I bolt upright. My lungs are screaming for air, but I inhale too hard and too fast and it sends me into a coughing, choking fit. My chest spasms and heaves as I fight to suck down air in between coughs. “Oh my God, it was a dream.”

“Yeah.” Rogue sits up beside me. His hand rubs soothing circles between my shoulder blades. “You screamed in your sleep.”

“I did?” It was all just a dream. Of course I would have some twisted and scary dream when I have so much on my mind. That’s all. It wasn’t real.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Uh. Alec… he…” I can still feel his hand around my throat. My lungs are still burning. It felt so real. More real than the last one.

I toss back the covers and scramble out of bed. Stumbling to the bathroom, I turn on the light to look at my aching throat.

There’s nothing. Not a single mark on my neck. I pile my hair in my hand on top of my head as I turn this way and that, looking for a row of red ovals or the semi-circle of his nails embedded in my skin. Anything that suggests it was more than a dream. But the only color is an angry flush to my face.

Rogue slips into the bathroom behind me. His concerned gaze catches mine in the mirror before he stands right behind me. “You look like you’re burning up.”

“Do I?” I press my fingers to those hot strawberry spots on my cheeks. My fingertips are like ice. And the pressure in my head is almost blinding.

He rests his palm on my forehead as I lean back against him. “You’re so warm. I think you’re running a fever.”

“What?” I blink. My vision is still bleary from sleep. I can barely think straight with that nightmare still so vivid. And it feels like everything aches. Plus the tiles are super cold under my feet. So cold I’m shivering.

He wraps his hands around my hips and lifts me onto the counter. Holding me with one hand, he digs through a drawer and pulls out a fancy digital thermometer that he rolls across my forehead. “Shit, you’re too hot. Shit. How do we handle fever again? We have to bring it down.”

“Rogue, it’s okay.” I can barely keep my eyes open. Pins and needles are making my toes hurt. “I’m okay.”

“I’m calling the doctor.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” I manage through clicking teeth. “You’ll wake her.”

“I don’t care.” He reaches for his phone before he realizes he’s only wearing boxer briefs and his phone is on the nightstand. “You’re pregnant, baby. Now you have a fever. You’re not brushing this off like it’s nothing. And the doc said—”

He didn’t say anything when I brought up the possibility hours ago. Not one word. And I didn’t know what else to say to him about it because I have no idea how I’ll come to terms with it if that’s why I’ve been so sick. So instead we lay in this awkward, heavy silence until sleep overtook me.

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