“Stop touching her,”a male voice growled.
“I’m making sure she’s breathing,” Harper snapped.
“She’s fine.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
My best friend was arguing with my soulmate.
That meant I wasn’t dead.
“Both of you, shut the fuck up,” Rhone snarled.“Maverick and Bloom both need to sleep.”
Silence fell.
I drifted off again.
Raging hunger woke me.
I had no idea how long I’d been out.
I started to move, but a low groan escaped me when pain reverberated through every inch of my body.
“She needs blood. Leave.” Maverick’s harsh command was followed by the scent of vanilla growing far more intense.
“I’m not leaving her,” Harper said.
“I’m not asking,” Maverick growled.
Rhone made a sound of annoyance.
Harper protested a moment later, and I forced my eyes open just in time to catch the tail end of Rhone hauling my best friend out through a door of what smelled like—and looked like—it must’ve been Maverick’s bedroom.
“What happened?” My voice was rough. Only part of each word made it out. I tried to lift my head from the pillow it rested on, but failed.
That pillow moved, and I realized it was Maverick’s chest.
I inhaled deeply, sighing in contentment as the best scent in the world both enveloped and filled me.
The door opened again.
“No,” Maverick said flatly.
“You need a chaperone.” There was no room for argument in Rhone’s voice.
The door closed.
“Get. Out.” Maverick’s jaw was clenched. An arm I hadn’t realized was around my waist tightened.
A moment of silence made me think they were communicating mentally.
The muscles around and under me tensed. Hard.
Maverick took a few slow, forced breaths in and out. “Sit in the corner. With your back to us.”
A moment passed as Rhone did exactly that.
Maverick sat up, lifting me with him and holding all of my weight. My muscles weren’t really working.
