Wherever Blaise had taken me, I thought about suing them. I kept waking up in a world of pain and then passing out again. Each time, I regained more awareness. Enough to know that my sister was there and she was being really loud for a librarian. Screaming. She was screaming incoherent things. I made a mental note to tell her to use her indoor voice—once I could talk again. When my boot was removed, I moaned in pain, then lost consciousness again. When I finally woke up for good later, I remembered that more than anything—the pain of my boot coming off and the glass ripping out of my foot with it.

My whole body hurt. Parts that I hadn’t known I possessed hurt. Parts that had no reason to hurt, hurt. It felt like I had been scrubbed with a cheese grater. Was I raw and blistered? I’d never been a vain person, but the anxiety of wondering how I looked settled in my stomach and stayed there.

It took me a while to open my eyes. I was so darn tired. When I did, though, my eyes felt scratchy and as achy as the rest of me, maybe a little more. The first thing I saw was Blaise sitting next to me, his elbows resting on the side of my bed. His bed. I was in his bedroom, back in his castle. Back in his bed. His head was hanging low, and his shoulders were hunched forward. He looked older than the last time I’d seen him, and exhausted.

Like he could feel me looking at him, he jerked and sat up straight. When he noticed me watching him, he leaned in and pressed a hard kiss on my forehead. Something wet landed on my cheek, and before I could tell if he was really crying, he’d stood up and vanished from the room.

In his place, my sister appeared, her own eyes red and swollen. “You scared the hell out of us! What were you doing out there? What happened? God, Chyna. You could’ve died.”

I held my breath as she sobbed against me, that realization hitting me. I could’ve died. I suddenly felt as though an elephant had traipsed into the room and found that the only place suitable to sit was my chest. Death had never been a thought before. Obviously, I knew it would come eventually, but that was the closest I’d ever come to it.

“I think you’re hurting her, mate.” Cezar’s soft voice was gentle as he pulled Cherry away from my bed. “She is probably sore.”

I shook my head, ignoring the pain, and reached out for her. When she rushed back to my side, wrapping my arms around her did hurt, but I needed to feel reassured for the moment.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Just when I stopped worrying about losing you, you go and nearly die on me.” Cherry stroked my hair and groaned. “There’s still mud in your hair.”

“I could not get it all out.” Blaise’s gravel-filled voice came from the corner. I guessed he hadn’t left the room after all. “I will try again when she is feeling up to it.”

I let Cherry go and tried to sit up. Blaise was right beside me in a flash, though, resting his hand on my shoulder and pushing me gently back down.

“You are not well enough to get up yet.”

I tried to speak and found my throat was sore and burning. I cleared it and tried again. I was able to produce a hoarse resemblance to my voice. “I want to sit up.”

He stared down at me, his face hard, and shook his head. “You must rest. You need to sleep. Cezar and your sister are leaving.”

“What? I never said—” Cherry started but was cut off by Cezar.

“Let’s give them some time, mate. Your sister needs her rest.” He shifted his gaze to Blaise. “And her mate needs time to get himself under control.”

I studied Blaise…his lips were pressed together tightly, and his expression radiated tension and high stress, as though he was barely holding himself together.

“Blaise.” My voice wasn’t any stronger, but it got Blaise’s attention.

He looked down at me and blew out a big breath. Shaking his head, he brushed his hands over his face. “I will let you know when she wakes up again.”

Cherry hugged me again and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I love you. Feel better.” Then, she brought her mouth closer to my ear so I could hear her whisper. “At least I know you’re in good hands. He hasn’t left your side for a second.”

I wanted to respond, ask her questions about that, but I was already fading. Sleep tugged at me like a toddler at a sleeve. I fought it as much as I could, but Blaise was right. Sleep was the best option.

I awoke briefly a few more times during the night. Blaise was always there beside me, ready to do whatever I needed. Twice, I needed help to the bathroom. Once, he held my hair back as I sat up with a jerk and violently threw up all over myself. I’d had a nightmare of the fire and of dying. After I was finished, he held me in the bathtub and gently ran cool water over my skin until I was clean.

I was never fully awake enough to appreciate any of it. I went out as fast as I came to each time, all of it more like a fever dream than reality. When morning came, though, I was rested. I woke up still feeling rough around the edges, but more myself. I was present and aware of my surroundings.

I was aware I was in Blaise’s castle. The place I’d tried hard to get away from, with the man I’d snuck away from, the dragon who’d saved me from burning alive. The man who’d sat at my side the entire night and took better care of me than a mother would her newborn baby.

“You are awake.”

I turned my head to find Blaise sitting by the large windows that looked out at the lime-green swamp. I couldn’t help but appreciate the view. A few cranes moved around the cypresses, darting in and out between the morning sun and shadows. But the real view was the man sitting in the chair. As I studied him, I felt my breath catch in my chest.

Backlit as he was, I could see a ring of gold around his red hair. His face was in the shadows, but the fatigue in his expression was clear.

That huge dummy in me felt something akin to butterflies at the sight of him. “You saved me.”

He stood up and walked over to me. “You left. And then you almost killed yourself.”

I nodded. There was no point in arguing with his obviously sour mood. He wasn’t wrong. I had left. Then, I had almost accidentally gotten myself killed. He was right. Although, he said it as though I’d meant to do both, like he was angry at me for both things.

“Tell me what happened. When I got there, I smelled gasoline and other accelerants.” The bed dipped as he sat next to me. “Did you do that?”

“No! Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Why did you leave me?”

I tried to sit up. Arguing with him while lying down seemed unfair. When I pressed my feet against the bed to leverage myself, the pain in my right foot was so shocking I saw stars for a second. I gasped and instantly stuck it back out, trying to alleviate that pain.

Blaise growled and caught my leg. “Careful!”

“I’m not trying to hurt it!”

“So, you are this graceful naturally?”

I hissed at him, anger getting the best of me. “Get out.”

“It is my home.”

“Then, I’ll get out.” I tried to sit up again and managed to get halfway upright before Blaise’s big hand landed in the middle of my chest and pushed me back down. He was gentle, too gentle. It felt like a caress.

“You will stay this time. Whether you like it or not.”

I growled, and to my surprise, he growled right back at me. Only, his growl was fierce and shook the house. Deflated, I sank back into my pillows and sighed. “I guess I’ll stay a little longer.”