Page 81 of Venomous Kiss
Abigail lets him out and then comes back into the bedroom. “What are you planning to do?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” My eyes don’t move from Lilith as she makes a noise of pain in her sleep. The doctor said she will need a lot of sleep and time to recuperate.
“With her. What do you plan to do?”
“I forgot to tell you,” I say as Lilith makes a noise. “She’s my wife.”
Abigail’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head like she’s trying to determine whether the words I spewed are true.
They are.
Very true.
Now, I just have to ensure my wife won’t try to kill me when she wakes.
THIRTY
LILITH
My head hurts a lot. And I feel like I’m still tired.
Jolting, I reach for whatever is close to me and come into contact with a hard body.
“Caterpillar,” he whispers through the darkness as his hand slides along my stomach. Blinking a few times, I realize I’m not in my bed.
A tiny sliver of light shines from a doorway as soft snores escape Reon who talks in his sleep next to me. The warmth and comfort I feel in his presence shouldn’t be happening after what I just went through. Managing to slip from his hold, I sit at the side of the bed and hold my breath. My arm and my leg hurt. Releasing the air in my lungs, I manage not to cry out from the pain radiating throughout my body. Though I’m incredibly sore, I feel like I got a good night’s sleep, but exhaustion still plagues me.
Standing, I ease my way to what I presume to be the door to the hallway and push it open. I quickly shut it once I’m on the other side so I don’t wake him. I lean back against the wood and try to remember where I am.
“Do you want some clothes?” I jump at the sound of a female voice—it’s familiar yet foreign at the same time. “I have some in the living room for you. I threw that dress in the trash.”
“That was an expensive dress,” I say, and turn around, finding a woman dressed in blue silk pajamas.
“I’m sure my brother will be more than happy to buy you another,” she states as she turns and waves for me to follow.
I look down at myself and notice I’m wearing one of his shirts. It’s long and covers the areas that are needed. Dammit! I need new underwear. Shrugging, I don’t even care what I look like. From what I can remember, this woman helped wash me last night in the shower.
“Do you know where my knife is?” I ask as I reach the kitchen. She points to the couch where some clothes are piled.
“Feel free to take anything you want. I’m Abigail, by the way,” she offers.
Slowly limping to the clothes on my sore legs, I find a loose shirt and cargo pants. Slipping them on, I look at Abigail baking at the kitchen counter.
“How are you feeling? Any better?” she asks.
“Better than last night, sure. I don’t think that’s hard to beat,” I reply.
“It’s three in the afternoon. You’ve slept most of the day, and my brother only just went down a few hours ago once he knew you were safe.” She comes over to me and reaches for my arm. I let her, and she inspects it. “Wound looks good. Make sure you change the dressings regularly.”
She waits for me to speak again.
“Okay.”
Nodding, she walks back to the kitchen counter and starts rolling some sort of dough. “Sit. I’ll pour us a glass of wine, and you can tell me why my brother loves you.”
My eyes bulge at her words.
“He doesn’t love me. We barely know each other.”
