Page 153 of Salvatore

“And how long has it been since her surgery?”

“A few hours.”

He inclines his head and pastes on a brittle smile. “Hello, Ivy.” He secures a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm, then presses buttons on the portable machine placed on the mattress. “If your vitals are good, I’m going to be monitoring you every one to two hours. If they’re not, I’ll be back more frequently.”

She closes her eyes with another whimper. “I feel fine. I just want sleep.”

“That’s great to hear.”

He peppers her with questions—are you in any pain? Have you been able to eat or drink? Can you move unaided?

She responds with the least amount of syllables possible while he checks her bandages, the exhaustion in her tone a condemning punishment that claws under my skin.

It takes a few more minutes before the doc finally packs his portable equipment back into his bag and raises it at his side. “Her vitals are normal. I’ll take my usual room at the farthest end of the hall and return in ninety minutes. If anything changes, come get me immediately.”

I glower in response and the old fucker has the nerve to roll his eyes.

“She’ll be fine.” He walks for the door. “There’s no need to watch over her.”

I keep my thoughts to myself and continue glowering as he disappears into the hall.

“He’s right,” Ivy mumbles. “You need rest, Sally. You should go to bed.”

I return my gaze to her. “Evidently, it doesn’t take much sleep for your sassy attitude to snap back in place.”

She smiles, all cute and dreamy as her eyes remain closed. “The sass is engrained. It only disappears in peak times of trauma.” She rolls onto her right side, her loose hair splaying over the pillow behind her. “Now go. It’s hard enough trying to sleep knowing the woman who stabbed me is beneath my feet, but having you psycho-watch me is going to make it impossible.”

“What if you get hungry or need pain meds?”

“Then despite how intrigued I am to see what domestication looks like on you, I can get it myself. Movement encourages blood flow and all that.”

I wouldn’t care if blood flow encouraged warp-speed cell regeneration. I want to wait on her, her independence be damned.

I push from my chair and round the bed to where she lays, those dark lashes resting against the most beautiful skin. “Text me if you need anything.” I retrieve her cell from my pants pocket and slide it onto the bedside table. “I’ll leave your phone right here.”

Her eyes flutter open, a look of apprehension peering back at me. “You went into the basement?”

“Yeah. I went down there.”

“What did she say? Did she convince you that?—”

“She didn’t convince me of anything. You’re safe with me.” I give in to temptation and guide the stray strands of hair from her cheek back behind her ear, the silken texture doing nothing to abate the strange mix of feelings curdling beneath my ribs. “Get some rest. The doctor will be back soon enough.”

She groans but those big brown eyes remain on mine, calling me to her, tempting me to crawl in bed beside her and make this situation more of a mess than it already is.

“I won’t be far.” I leave her room and relocate next door, not bothering to take off my shoes or change clothes when I spread out on my bed because shit is going to get more real soon enough.

It’s half an hour later when the first text rolls in.

Bishop

You’re a fucking liability. Prepare for visitors.

Ten minutes later…

Matthew

Is there any situation that doesn’t get the Salvatore fuck-up treatment? I had plans today. Sitting in a helicopter to come sort out your mess wasn’t one of them.

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