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“I wouldn’t want to escape. Not even from Draven.”
Zane laughed. “He might not be the most tactful person in the world, but he’s loyal to a fault and protective as hell. Once he’s in your corner, you’re set for life.”
“He scares me a little bit.” She warned him by wagging her finger. “And if you tell him, or Calum that, I’ll withhold sex for a month.”
Zane clasped a hand to his chest. “You don’t fight fair.” He laughed. “And you’d never voluntarily deprive yourself of what I can do with my tongue, and my dick.”
She giggled. “Shut up and kiss me.”
The second his lips touched hers, the room spun. He enthralled her, dazzled her, filled all the tiny fissures that had scored her heart for each day they’d spent apart. She often wondered how she’d survived this long without Zane in her life, but somehow she had, and fate had brought them together again.
Things were exactly as they should be.
She burrowed into his body and let him lead as they swayed in the middle of the crowd. They hardly moved for the next two songs, locked in each other’s arms.
In a heartbeat, everything changed. Her chest tightened, and her stomach rolled as if it didn’t know how to digest what she’d eaten. And then the entire room spun. She clung to Zane, moving her hands from his waist to his shoulders to anchor herself. Except the room kept spinning. She closed her eyes. God, no. That made it worse. She snapped them back open.
“Zane, I feel… weird.”
“Weird? How? Are you too warm? It is hot in here.”
“I don’t know.” She blinked, regretting she’d accepted that second glass of wine with dinner. She wasn’t a huge drinker. “Can we go outside for some air?”
“Sure. Come on.”
His arm came around her waist, tethering her to his side, and slowly, he edged his way through the crowded dance floor toward the exit. The horrible creep of nausea swirled in her stomach and filled her mouth with saliva.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke.
The cool air hit her the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk, but instead of stripping back the sick feeling crashing around her stomach, it made her feel worse. Crowds of people lined up, still waiting to get into the club, and as she fixed her gaze on them, they slithered like a fifty-foot python.
“I need to sit down.” She sagged against Zane. “Oh god, I really don’t feel—”
Her knees buckled. Zane caught her.
“Lori!”
“I’m… I…”
She blinked and then nothing.
CHAPTER 22
“Lori!”
Zane folded to the ground as Lori’s unbalanced weight pulled him over. There wasn’t any color in her face, and her hands were clammy.
Oh Christ, please no. Not again.
“Jesus, Lori.” He cradled her in his arms and patted her cheek. “Talk to me, baby.” He stuffed his hand in his pocket. Goddamn it. His phone was inside, in his coat. Shit. He scanned the crowd, his eyes alighting on the doorman who lifted the velvet rope to allow a bunch more people into the club.
“You.” He jabbed a finger at the burly guy. “Call an ambulance.”
The doorman gave him the once-over, probably trying to decide if they were drunk, or high on drugs, or both. He clipped the velvet rope in place, dipped his chin once, and called to someone behind him. Another guy appeared in Zane’s line of sight. The two conversed, and then the second guy vanished back inside the club.
“Is she okay?” the doorman asked.
“Does she fucking look okay?” He swept a hand over his face. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know. I don’t know. She has a heart condition and she’s passed out.” He put his ear to her mouth, his stomach punching as a steady stream of air wafted over him. “She’s breathing.”
