Page 5 of Demons of Eden

It’s like someone’s thrown the very water I can hear over me, and now I’m suddenly wide awake.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself, scrambling out of the bed and gathering my things as quickly as I can. Awkward morning-afterconversations can go straight to hell. I’m dressed and pulling my heels back on when I hear the shower cut off.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Hastily, I grab my clutch purse, and I’m about to dash out the door when an inexplicable urge overtakes me. I snatch up the blood-red shirt he wore last night from the floor before making my escape. I’ll need to assess why I stole his clothes later, like once I’ve made it home and far away from the living incarnation of temptation known as Ash. Before I can change my mind or make a fool of myself, I speed down the hall as quietly as I can, impatiently stabbing my fingers into the call button for the elevator.

“Hurry up!” I snap under my breath at the still closed metal doors as I wait, casting a paranoid glance over my shoulder to make sure Ash hasn’t noticed my absence yet.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, for him to care enough to chase me out here in only a goddess-damned towel? But I need to get out of here without seeing him, if only because that was the best sex I’ve ever had. If I stick around any longer and let myself indulge in the fantasy any more, I’ll be permanently dickmatized by that man. I’ll fall under the spell of his satisfying cock, and frankly, those incredible pussy-eating skills, and do something stupid, like asking for more. I want what a man I’ve only spent one night with will obviously never desire in return.

The elevator finally opens, and I practically launch myself inside of it, slamming the button for the lobby. The second the doors close, I let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the edge of disappointment in the back of my mind, as if I actually wanted him to come after me. Which I don’t. The last thing I need is a seemingly perfect man making me believe we could ever have anything more than just one insane night of connection and lust.

CHAPTER THREE

Unwilling and quite possibly unable to drag myself from my bed, I raise my hand and try calling a plastic bottle of water to myself from across the room. It’s practically second nature on lazy mornings to use my powers this way, whether it’s to get water or switch off my alarm without moving from the comfort of my bed. However, despite having done this a million times before, even while half-asleep or blinking awake with a pounding hangover, today is the first time I fail.

The bottle wobbles as it slowly lifts. It only moves about an inch or so closer before the connection suddenly drops, causing it to roll off the table and fall uselessly to the floor. It feels like someone, somewhere, is laughing at me as the bottle manages to roll even further away thanks to its shape, which turns it in an arc across the floor.

Well, fuck.

I clutch my head in my hands as I groan from the wave of pain assaulting it, feeling it throb from what feels like vitav exhaustion, but it can’t be that. I shouldn’t be anywhere near my magical limit with how little I’ve been casting over the lastweek. I’ve been avoiding it, actually, considering I barely had the energy to fulfil my website’s potion orders in time to ship. Yet somehow, it feels as if I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours doing nothing but performing complex enchantments and repeated commands, without so much as a five-minute break or a snack to recharge. At the thought of food, my stomach whirls, the nausea alleviation potion I took last night having worn off already. I could cry into my pillow from the unfairness of it all.

Clearly, I’m sick. I’ve been slowly feeling worse over the last week or so. It’s obviously something that affects both the physical body and magical energy, meaning despite my best efforts to sleep it off, it’s not likely to go away by itself. Still thirsty, I reach out my hand again, staring at the sad-looking water bottle on the floor despondently when it barely twitches, not even when I strain as hard as I can to mentally pull on whatever power remains inside of me.

It’s useless, or I’m useless—for the time being, anyway.

Beyond frustrated at my failure to carry out such a simple task, I debate calling Suvi to my rescue. I know she’d be more than willing to come over and play nurse for me, but I also know she’s still on the night shift. With the sun only rising a couple of hours ago, she’s probably only been asleep for an hour or two at most at this point. I’d feel pretty shitty waking her up when I can easily go and see her in the coven’s clinic later, like everyone else.

For now, giving up on complicated things like getting out of bed or drinking water, I decide more sleep is the way to go. I roll over to keep the small sliver of sun my blinds fail to block from the room out of my eyes and pull my blankets tighter around myself.

I’ll try getting up again later, once I’ve had more rest.

Surely, that’ll help at least a little…

It’s nearlyone in the morning by the time I drag myself all the way to my coven’s health clinic. It had taken all of the willpower I possess to eventually get up, get dressed, and scarf a meal bar down, only to throw it right back up again. Depressingly, my stomach’s probably more empty for my effort at eating than it would have been if I’d skipped out on it in the first place.

The one upside to being here at this ridiculous hour is how quiet it is, meaning there are no witnesses to the current disaster state I appear to be in. The clothes I’m wearing are the ones I usually only pull on when I’m not expecting any other living beings to see me. They’re old, stretchy, comfortable, and also, maybe just a little bit stained from spilling food on myself while eating and binge-watching through one of my favourite shows. Pretty sure the stain had occurred during the few days I’d spent moping after I—nope, I amnotgoing to be thinking about that. Not a single thought about him or the stolen red shirt I’ve guiltily shoved to the bottom of my closet after catching myself sniffing it for the third time in as many days. It’s a good thing I don’t have anyone to impress right now. I didn’t even manage to brush my tangled mess of hair before leaving my apartment, far too exhausted to get through the task, my body protesting every movement. In the end, I just pulled it back into a messy ponytail while praying not to see anyone I know on the way down here.

Head pounding, I step into the clinic, closing the door behind me and scanning the entrance room. Thankfully, I find myself alone. At this hour, it’s only Suvi who’s working unless there’s an emergency and the master healers get called in, which means I’m saved from death by embarrassment. For now, anyway. I move further into the space, my hand quickly covering mymouth and nose as the onslaught of chemical and herbal smells begins making the ever-present nausea even worse.

Did it always smell this awful here?

I force myself to keep going despite the odour, hitting the button on the little desk with my free hand to alert Suvi to the arrival of a patient. I count the seconds between my breaths as I try to ride through this wave of queasiness, unsure if it’s getting better or worse for all my efforts.

“Goddess, Eden! You look awful,” Suvi exclaims as she steps into the room, forgoing pleasantries as she rushes over, tucking an arm around my shoulders and half-dragging me through the clinic.

“Thanks so much,” I mutter. I’m trying to sass her, but I end up sounding more pathetic than anything else, my words coming out more as a pained groan. She guides us into the main treatment room and ushers me onto the medical bed. There’s obvious concern etched onto her delicate features, her brow creased into an unhappy frown as she adjusts the bed so I can lean back comfortably while still mostly sitting up.

“What did you do?” she demands after a long moment of staring at me assessingly.

“Nothing!” I snap half-assed as I roll my eyes. I’m a little irritated by the assumption I did this to myself somehow, but also way too tired to be truly mad about it. “I’m just sick or something; I don’t know. You're the expert at this, not me.”

“So you didn’t do anything weird with your magic? Because your aura is looking all kinds of weird,” she replies, hazel eyes squinting a little as she stares at me. “Even without checking the exact levels, I can tell you’re dangerously low on vitav. Usually, you’d only see this kind of drop from witches attempting to cast way beyond their limit. Are you sure you didn’t try something?” she presses, though I don’t think it’s an accusation. It’s more like she’s worried I’ve done something stupid accidentally.

“I didn’t. And is that your professional medical opinion? I’m ‘all kinds of weird’?” I ask teasingly, the small flicker of humour immediately dissipating as another even worse wave of nausea hits. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Without a word, Suvi quickly hands over a blue bag for me to vomit into. Her hand rubs soothingly on my back as I throw up what must be mostly water and stomach acid by this point. She waits patiently for me to be done before disposing of the bag, quickly returning and taking the seat beside the bed. “What are your symptoms?”

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