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Pain doesn’t matter, though. The girl lying helpless in front of me does. I lean over and place a chaste kiss on her dry lips. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here.”
“I love you, Aiden.” It’s barely a whisper, but it hits me straight to a sombre corner in my soul.
She loves me.
Elsa fucking loves me.
I’ll never get enough of hearing those words out of her mouth.
I take her hand in mine and place a kiss on the palm. “Stay with me, Elsa. You promised, remember?”
“Do you love me?” she whispers.
I capture her cracked mouth in a quick kiss, nibbling on her bottom lip longer than needed.
“Tell me, Aiden… T-tell me…”
“I will when you open your eyes.”
“I said it many times. You’re not fair.”
I chuckle at the lines forming on her forehead. She’s frowning and being stubborn even when feverish.
“What I feel for you isn’t only love, obsession, or addiction. It’s all of those and more. Do you know what that means, sweetheart? It means I can’t live without you, so don’t you fucking dare leave me.”
A small smile tugs on her lips before it falls flat. Her hand grows heavy in mine.
I check her pulse. It’s been jumping in and out of synch for the past hour. Her skin has turned alarmingly white for someone with a fever.
After one last kiss to her lips, I start to stand up. I’m getting her out of here if it’s the last thing I do.
Even if I have to lose a limb in the process.
The click of a door echoes in the air.
My head snaps upright as fast footsteps come down the stairs. I never thought I would be happy to see Jonathan’s face.
Ten years ago, when I woke up in the hospital and saw his face instead of Alicia’s, I became black. But now, it’s the complete opposite. He’s not bearing bad news this time, he’s come to help us.
He stops at the threshold of the basement with Ethan by his side.
I can almost imagine what they’re seeing.
I’m half-naked, my left shoulder drooping to one side. Elsa’s head lies on the floor as she mumbles gibberish.
“She needs a doctor,” I order. “Now.”
39
Elsa
Eli smiles down at me.
His face is as clear as glass. He has dark hair, a shade darker than Dad’s and his eyes are the same as our father’s, too.
He always said he’s Dad’s favourite and I went crying to Dad so he’d tell me that I’m his favourite, too.
Dust of freckles cover his cheek, adding a boyish charm to his face.
