Page 18 of Claiming Xan
“TJ—”
“Shut up, Xan. I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he snapped. “Whatever. Have a nice date.” He spun on his heel and stormed off, and whatever wind was left in my sails fluttered away.
I sagged against River’s arm, my heart pounding hard in my chest. “Sorry about that,” I mumbled.
River growled. The sound reverberated through me, low enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Who was that?” he demanded, like it suddenly mattered to him.
“My coworker. He’s been obsessed with me for months,” I explained. “I thought maybe if he saw me with another guy, he’d get the hint, but…” I grimaced. “I think I might’ve just made it worse. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
I dropped River’s hand and took a step away, giving us both space. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to breathe until I was calm once more, then looked at River. “Do you still wanna get food?”
He stared at me, studying me. “Doyoustill want to get food?”
“Um, yeah. I’m still hungry,” I said with a soft but humorless laugh. “Not gonna let that asshole ruin a good day. This might not be a date, but I’m having fun. So let’s forget about it and go eat.”
I smiled up at him. “Food court teriyaki chicken, here we come!”
10
RIVER
I wokeup in the dead of night in a cold sweat, my stomach filled with pins and needles and aching something awful.
I curled up on my side, trying to ward off the pain, but it throbbed deep inside of me. What the hell? Shifters didn’t typically get sick, so what was this?
I slowly pushed myself into a sitting position and swung my legs off the side of the bed. Just doing that caused my head to swim and pound with a headache. My guts churned almost violently. It reminded me of that time, in the third grade, when Sky and I ate bad Taco Bell and were sick for two days.
I thought about yesterday, going to the mall and eating at the food court. Xan and I had all but devoured our chicken teriyaki and fried rice. It’d tasted fine, but fuck, I felt like shit, so maybe it wasn’t so fine.
Suddenly, my stomach lurched and my mouth flooded with salty saliva. I stumbled to my feet and fumbled with the doorknob, flinging the door wide open before running down the hall. I barely made it to the bathroom before dropping to my knees and vomiting into the toilet basin.
Everything came up as I heaved and heaved, expelling the contents of my stomach until my eyes were leaking and my nose was running and my mouth tasted like battery acid. I knelt in front of the toilet, my forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, when I felt a gentle touch at the back of my neck.
I turned my head to see Xan in his PJs, laying a damp cloth over my heated skin. I blinked blearily up at him.
“Xan?” I croaked, because he didn’t look too great himself. Paler than usual—and that was saying something, because the guy had perfect porcelain skin. “You look like I feel.”
Xan let out a humorless laugh. “Feel like shit,” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t have eaten the sketchy food court food. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I leaned back and wiped my face and mouth with the damp rag. Then I closed the toilet lid and reached up to flush it. It smelled horrendous and it was making me feel nauseous all over again. “How were we supposed to know it was tainted? It tasted fine.”
“Yeah.”
I stood up, but my head spun in circles and I stumbled, barely catching myself on the vanity. “Fuck. I’m so dizzy.”
Xan placed a hand on my arm. “C’mon. I’m gonna grab a few blankets from the linen closet. We can veg in the living room for the rest of the night. It’ll be like a sleepover, minus the fun because we’re sick as hell.”
I didn’t have the energy to laugh, but I did expel a sharp breath through my nose. “Sounds good.”
We gathered everything we needed and got situated. Xan laid on the couch, wrapped up in blankets like a human burrito, while I claimed one of the recliners. Both of us had trash cans beside us, just in case. The room was dim, illuminated by the light above the sink, but it didn’t seem to matter. Sleep tugged me under regardless.
I was woken once more to Xan puking his guts out. Something about the way the Omega was clinging to the trash bin for dear life made my chest ache in the strangest way.
Kicking off my blankets, I made my way over and sat down on the couch beside Xan, rubbing his back as he retched.
A minute later, Gracie came wandering down the hall in a fuzzy blue robe, no doubt having heard the noise. She flipped the hall light on, concern on her face. “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Are you sick?”
“Food poisoning,” Xan mumbled, wiping his mouth with the corner of one of the blankets. He sagged back against the couch cushions, utterly spent. “Do we have any Sprite, Mom?”
