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I thought something was bothering him, some unresolved issue—stress from work, from his studies, from not knowing what exactly he wants.
But if his dreams are memories, and he dreams of blood, and a body… then what could he have gone through? My golden boy with the shadow slash across his soul.
The man I love.
How much is there that I don’t I know about Mercury Watson?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Merc
Ugh. Ow.
Hell.
Light burns through my lashes like a laser beam straight to my brain. I groan and try to throw an arm over my face, but moving is hard.
Hell, waking up today is hard. My body’s heavy. My head weighs about a ton and is sunk so deep in my pillow they’ll have to cut me out.
Okay, I can do this. Rolling my head to the side, I grab the edge of the mattress and pull, but can’t move. Shit, it’s like trying to dig my way out of the earth like a zombie during the goddamn apocalypse.
Someone is sitting by my bed, slender arms folded on the edge, dark head resting on them.
“Cos…” I whisper her name, and my voice’s hoarse as fuck. My throat burns, my stomach hurts. I’m so thirsty.
I feel like roadkill. I feel sick. Reminds me of one time as a kid when I’d contracted a nasty case of the flu and stayed in bed for so long I’d become one with the mattress. Sort of how I feel right now.
But CosieCat is here. Even though I’m not sure what happened and why I feel like something the cat dragged in, seeing her here, with me, puts me at ease.
Planting my hand on the mattress, I push myself up in a sitting position, then have to stay still as my stomach revolts and tries to send its contents up my throat.
Fuck, I hate puking. What the hell did I do, go on a bender? And why is Cos asleep by the side of the bed and not on it?
“Merc?” Cos lifts her head.
Not asleep anymore.
I take some deep breaths, will my stomach to settle. “Hey.”
“Oh God, Merc.” Shooting upright, she all but falls on top of me, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her sweet scent, her voice, the tickle of her soft hair on my skin, it feels right. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” I croak, lifting arms heavy like tree logs and wrapping them around her.
“I was afraid that… I don’t know but…” She babbles against my neck, her breath warm. “You scared me so badly.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
She lifts her head, gives me a serious look. “You serious? Jesus, Merc. How do you feel?”
Never a promising question. “A bit off?” I say cautiously. “I’m okay, though.”
I can’t remember why I feel like shit, but instinct tells me that’s probably not the right thing to mention right now.
Not with the concern I see etched on her face, and not even knowing what I did to cause it.
“You called Ross,” she says, sitting back on the bed.
I blink. “I did what?” I expected anything but those words, and I open my mouth to deny it, but then I hear an echo of Ross’s voice in my mind, asking me what the hell I want and why I’m asking about an ax…
