Page 30 of Obsessed

"Look we had a nice bubble bath and a good round of sex. She seemed perfectly happy at the end of it." I wink, knowing full well I'm just going to earn another fist. This time he hooks a rib. I hear it crack. Searing pain shoots through me. I hold my breath until it passes. "I don't know what girl you're talking about," I groan. "Cathy is the only woman I touched tonight. If you don't count that skinny red head who collapsed on my way out. You should feed your girls better. She looked pretty sickly. And if you're mad because I caught her, I'm not going to apologize for that. My mom raised me right. Didn'tyours?"

He takes a long moment to answer. "My mom didn't raise me atall."

"Well, that explains a lot. Sorry but that red head is all yours. She's not mytype."

Freestone heads to the door. "I'm done here. You can leave him in this room until I decide what to do withhim."

"They'll be coming to get me soon," I call tohim.

"Only if they can find you." The door shuts sharply behindhim.

29

Angie

It feelslike the walk across the room is three miles. My head is so heavy it's hard to keep it upright. The journey to the bathroom takes another burst of effort. I'm almost convinced that I'm sleepwalking until I flip on the lights and squint at the horrendous reflection in the mirror. The night comes back to me in dots, like pixels on an old computer. As the main image forms in my thickly drugged head, I stumble back and sit quickly on the upholsteredbench.

Was Maddox at the party? Was I at the party? Did I dream the whole thing? I close my eyes. "Please let it be just a bad dream," I say quietly. I nearly slip off the bench when a deep voice answersme.

"What bad dream?" Kane is carrying a tray with a syringe. It's not filled with the usual amberliquid.

I put up my hand. "No more. You can't just pump shit into my veins whenever the feeling grabs you. What the hell did you give me last night? That sleep was just a step above death. I don't think an elephant trumpeting through the room would have woken me. And look at me. Maybe I am actually dead. Christ, is that what you've got there? Some drug to animate deadpeople?"

His laugh is definitely not laced with humor. "You are dramatic when you're full of sedative." He places the tray on the bathroom counter and sits next to me. "You're not a zombie. Although you are starting to resemble one. I've mixed up something that I think will counteract the appetite suppressant reaction you're having from thenectar."

"How about if I just stop the nectar?" I say bravely knowing full well that I will crumble the second he pulls the syringe out of thepanel.

"Let's try this first. I've gone through all my old notes and research. I think this mightwork."

"Might work? So I'm your guineapig?"

"No guinea pigs do not have lips like this." He rubs his thumb across my bottomlip.

"You might want to look inside your psyche and reflect because you seem to have an affinity for walking corpses." I press my arm against my stomach. Every morning it churns with hunger, but by the time the plate of food comes, I'm nauseous at the thought ofeating.

"Let's give it a try," I say. "I'm as weak as abutterfly."

Kane walks across to the counter and picks up the syringe. I cringe at the thought of being poked yet again in my already tender arms. "Couldn't you have concocted somethingchewable?"

"If this works, I'll look into it. But it will work faster if it goes straight into yourbloodstream."

I close my eyes and wait for him to finish, too groggy to keep them open. "Why does my head feel so exceptionallyterrible?"

"Could have been all the crying," he says casually as he returns the syringe to thetray.

I stare at him through bleary eyes and see for the first time that he doesn't look like his usual pulled together self. He's even sporting a five o'clock shadow as if he skipped hisrazor.

"Whatcrying?"

He tilts his head and stares at me. It seems he is trying to gauge whether or not I'm joking withhim.

"Seriously? What was I crying about?" The second I ask it reality sinks in like a bag of sand. It wasn't a dream. It was real. All of it. Maddox. Maddox caught me in his arms. I take a deep breath to quickly brush away the reaction to my sudden epiphany. "I guess I was just feeling sick. I told you I feel as weak as a butterfly." I hold out my thin, pinpricked arms. "A really ugly wingless butterfly." It's hard as hell to keep up the charade and light airy tone, but I can't do anything to compromise Maddox's safety. What the hell is he doing jumping in on my undercover assignment? It's just like him. Tears threaten again as I let my mind wrap around the idea ofhim.

I hop up from the bench but sway a second on my feet. "I think that stuff might work. If you head down to the kitchen, tell them to go easy on the rich stuff. It's been too long. Maybe just some eggs and toast." My hopes that the prospect of me eating breakfast will move Kane out of the room quickly are dashed when he leans against the counter and crosses hisarms.

"So you don't remember anything much about last night? Like crying rivers of tears andfainting?"

More of the night, the short and stunning night, is coming back to me, but I can't let Kane know. "I didn't faint. You must have mistaken me tripping for fainting. Besides, this is your fault. Your nectar is making me shrink into a walking skeleton. I said I didn't want to go to that party. After being sealed up in this room so much, seeing all those people sent me into a brutal panic attack. That's all it was. The tears, my unsteady legs. It was because you made me go to that stupidparty."

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