Page 150 of Mud

Fuck, this was happening. Bile in my throat as Taland said something else, then disappeared from the room for a moment. This was actually happening because there was no way I could hold all of my insides back when they were so insistent on coming out of me.

I was going to throw my guts out right in front of Taland Tivoux.

Now Ireallywanted to die.

There was a blue and grey plastic bucket in front of me,and Taland was sitting on the side of the bed what felt like the next second. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I tried to hold myself back, hoping to sleep, hoping to keep it in.

Impossible.

Taland pulled me to the side and my face was in the bucket and I was throwing up like I had an ocean to release from my fucking mouth.

I had no idea how long it even lasted, but I passed out—hopefully soon—and who knew if I threw up again?

Flashes of the next few hours haunted me when I did wake up, though. Of Taland’s face, brows furrowed, concern in his eyes. Of Taland’s hand around my hair. Of Taland’sotherhand holding the bucket in front of me. Of Taland’s voice in my ear, telling me to let go, that it was going to be over soon and that I was going to be all right.

Taland, Taland, Taland—and this wasn’t like when I imagined him back home. I knew this wasn’t a dream, and the taste in my mouth—so fucking awful—confirmed it as soon as I was aware of myself again.

I had really thrown up for a long time, and possibly filled an entire bucket with my vomit.

Fuck.

I sat up with a jolt, wiggling my toes to make sure my legs were working fine. They were. And Taland was nowhere to be seen.

The window was half open, and I was so thankful for the cold air. The bucket had disappeared, and there was no weird smell in the room that I noticed.

My breath, though…

My jacket, weapons and boots were off me, by the side of the bed, and I didn’t even stop to look outside the window. My legs were holding me, and I needed to get to the bathroom and wash my hands and face asap.

I did.

Nobody in the hallway, no weird noise or scent. Everything was dark, the light from the lamps on the walls faded, and the bathroom was empty, too. The bucket where I’d thrown my guts out was under the sink. Clean. Not a trace of my vomit anywhere, which made me want to throw up all over again.

Taland had cleaned it. Taland had watched me throw up. Taland had held my hair back while I did.

Fuck!

And to make matter worse, there was no toothpaste in the cabinet over the sink, only some mouthwash that I barely kept in my mouth for a few seconds because it smelled funny.Notlike mouthwash should.

When I returned to the room, I felt exhausted already, my limbs heavy but they moved at normal speed, at least. I grabbed my holsters and sheaths from the edge of the bed just as the sound of rattling metal reached me, a second before Taland’s head appeared right outside the window.

“Morning, sweetness. Sleep well?”

I flinched so hard he laughed as he climbed inside, pushing the window up all the way to let himself through.

Damn it, he’d seen me throwing up. I hated that so much I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t even saymorningback.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, straightening his leather jacket as he took me in, then ran his hands through his disheveled hair like he was posing for a damn photoshoot.Damn you, Taland Tivoux.

“What do you care?” I said, and it wasn’t fair in the least—but what about my life was?

Taland’s grin only widened. “Well, since I carried yourvomit around all night, I think I deserve to know if you’re going to be throwing up again.”

Goddamn sonovabitch!

I threw the holster with my guns on the bed again and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Nobody asked you to do that, Taland.” My blood was flowing normally now, too, because my cheeks were extra flushed. So hot I didn’t dare touch them.

“True,” he admitted with a nod, not fazed in the least as he stopped in front of me, looking down at me like he was measuring how much of me he could take in one bite.Fuck.

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