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One Week Later
Meira
“How much longer?” I ask, pacing in Dušan’s office, looking away from Lucien and Bardhyl. I can’t stop worrying about what my blood results will show. That I’m still sick and it’ll slowly wear me down? I haven’t coughed up blood since transforming, so I’m praying with everything that my immunity to the zombies is some freak anomaly.
I keep glancing outside the window, where the sun shines brilliantly. Down on the settlement grounds, Ash Wolves are preparing for tonight’s celebrations. It’ll be a blue moon, and with it being a week since Dušan reclaimed his pack, there is a lot to be party about. Mad and his dead followers were finished off to ensure they didn’t return as the undead and buried deep in the woods. Plus, tonight, Dušan will assure his pack that we are safe, that there is no cure as Mad claimed, but there will be changes to protect them all better. Those survivors who betrayed Dušan fled into the woods already, knowing death was coming for them. And add to all that, Dušan finally returned the serum Mad stole to the X-Clan to keep the peace.
Slowly, all the parts are falling back into place.
Except still, my stomach twists in on itself. Footfalls sound behind me, and I turn to find Lucien approaching. Today he reminds me so much of when we first met by the side of the road. He’s wearing his long-sleeved button-down shirt and those sexy dark jeans that hang low on narrow hips, and let’s not forget his cowboy boots. His deep brown hair is swept off his face, and his gray-steeled eyes gleam. Every inch of him is spectacular. And there’s a reason I fell for him the moment we met. He is a walking god.
“Come and sit with us.” He takes my hand. “The blood results should be ready soon.”
“Your pacing is making me tense,” Bardhyl states from the three-seater couch where he sits at one end, legs parted, one arm on his lap, the other along the back of the sofa. Something about him looks bigger today, broader, stronger. The white shirt he wears sits open at his throat, enough that the muscles below his collarbone flex each time he shifts around on the couch. Long white-blond hair drapes over his shoulders. A shadow of growth covers his chiseled jawline, and when he looks at me, he pats his lap, calling me to sit on him.
The corners of my lips seem to involuntary curl upward in response. My body response automatically to my soulmates it seems.
Lucien’s fingers thread with mine, and he walks me around the table and over to the sofa.
I throw myself down on the middle cushion as Bardhyl hastily slips his arm around my back, and in a split second, I’m sitting on his lap sideways.
“My little Zombie Queen, don’t even think you can get away from me,” he says, keeping his gaze on me, while his fingers find my skin as my top lifts over the band of my skirt.
“I’m totally okay to sit next to you,” I answer, even if sitting in his lap has me burning up in moments, and already, I feel the bulge in his pants poking against my thigh.
Lucien makes little work of lifting my feet so he can slip in next to Bardhyl and hold on to my legs. Sneakily, he also raises my skirt for a peak.
“Hey.” I slap his hand away. “Iamwearing underwear.”
He smirks devilishly. “Had to check just in case you were holding out on us.”
I wrinkle my nose at him in confusion. “You think that I randomly decide to not wear underwear so I can surprise you?”
Both men look at me with a suddenly overzealous expression, the answer painted all over their horny faces. I shake my head at how transparent they are, but then again, we haven’t had sex for a week.
The door suddenly opens, and my gaze jerks upward.
Dušan strolls inside, and I glance behind him, half-expecting Mariana, the pack doctor, to be with him. Except he’s alone, and my breath jams in my throat.
Does he have bad news and wants to deliver it to me on his own?
Bardhyl’s grip around me tightens, like he senses my unease. But I push myself out of his arms and stand to meet my Alpha, my soulmate, my everything.
He greets me with smiling blue eyes, his black hair sitting messily around his face like he’s just run through the wind.
“Come here, gorgeous.” He collects me into his arms.
I stare up at him, trembling. “Please don’t make me wait. Just tell me. What did my blood results say?”
He cups the sides of my face and kisses me with a hunger like he’s letting himself be rough with me once again. For the past week as we waited for the results, he insisted all three of them be careful around me just until we knew the details around my sickness. And, well, to have three gods drooling over me, it’s been torture. But cleaning up the mess caused by Mad distracted us most of the week.
I push myself closer and kiss him back harder, hoping this means he has good news.
When I break away, breathless, I stare at him desperately.
“The result showed that you still have leukemia.” His arms tighten around me.
A chill races down my spine and instantly, tears spring to my eyes. It’s stupid how just a few words send a shudder right through me.
