Page 25 of Gambling with Time

The only saving grace was below the balcony were only rocks. At least I hadn’t thrown up all over any of my kin. Tyler was next to me when I could finally breathe again. My head pounded, and I felt like I was going to pass out.

“You definitely drank too much, buddy. Let me help you to your room.”

I nodded and even that felt like too much. The chances of me making it to my rooms without hurling again were slim at best, but I’d give it my best shot. He took on most of my weight effortlessly. I must have said the words out loud because he said something about being a firefighter. But it could have all been in my imagination.

Once we returned to my room, he dropped me on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, only to reappear with a wastebasket.

“For puke,” he said, holding it up. “I’ll tell Sam you are resting.”

I must have answered him coherently because he dragged the heavy blinds shut, blocking out the sun, and left me alone.

* * *

My head felt as if it were going to burst open and spill my brains all over the bed. Something had woken me, and I wished for the darkness of sleep because this pain was skull-splitting.

A hangover from hell. Or Tartus, since that was where we were.

Then I heard the sound that woke me again. It was water in the bathroom. Moments later, Sammy appeared like an angel from the doorway. She crossed the room to me, a washcloth between her fingers.

“Ty said you were sick,” she said.

I groaned at her words as they tried to split my head in half. She pressed her lips together. Then brushed my hair away from my forehead, testing for a fever I would guess. She didn’t find one, but she put the cool cloth on my head anyway. It felt nice and soothing. Or maybe it was just her presence.

She perched on the bed next to me, her fingers running up and down my arm as she watched me.

“Hung over,” I supplied. My throat felt raw, and I tried to clear it. Another bout of nausea threatened, and I swallowed.

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. It was the second confirmation that drinking wasn’t a normal go-to for me. And I didn’t really care how numb it made me feel. I wasn’t sure it was worth the after-effects.

She pushed off the bed and disappeared back into the bathroom again. Returning this time with a glass of water, she held it out.

“For your throat,” she whispered.

I sipped at the cool liquid, it helped a bit.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, I’m going to get you some greasy food.”

The thought of eating right now twisted my stomach, but I nodded my agreement, and she left me alone in the silence.

I must have drifted to sleep again because the next thing I knew, she was back with a tray of food and two pills for headaches. She climbed onto the bed next to me, sitting criss-crossed with the tray at her feet.

“Baldwin said that greasy food won’t help, so he gave me a muffin and a tall glass of water and then some sort of pear juice. He said that they will help you feel better.”

“Baldwin?”

“The old dragon,” she supplied.

“No, I know who he is. I just didn’t realize he was on chatting terms with you.”

She grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Sorry, it–”

“It’s fine. He didn’t like me the first time we came here. But I’m charming and won him over of course.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

The way she held herself still sent a prickling sensation through me, like an instinctive warning. It was this unmistakable sense that she was concealing something, and it tugged at my gut with a mix of curiosity and unease. I didn’t like it.

“What are you hiding?” I asked automatically.

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