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She hoped she had a good excuse for putting herself through this. She wasn't a masochist, she didn't particularly enjoy pain. Not the way Archie did. That girl could take a flogging and still beg for Jasper to imprint a five-bar gate on her butt with a cane. Connie could take pain, to a considerable level, but she wasn't a painslut, especially when it came to her brain killing itself.
Oh God, she'd been crying by the side of the road. The argument with Braun, the hurt and the betrayal, came flooding back. They were taking Alicia away from her, because she hadn't succeeded in fixing the broken woman. But she just needed more time, that was all. So Connie had driven away, broken down, and then…had she gone into Phoenix? She had flashes of memory flicking past—wandering aimlessly around a store, grabbing bottles of whisky; talking to a clerk, handing over her credit card; driving away, out into the wide-open space she'd never been before.
But where was that? Where had she gone?
Had she pulled over near a tree? An acacia, she thought. That sounded right. She'd pulled over and cried some more, then…ah fuck. She'd opened one of the bottles and gulped. Things got fuzzy after that, but there were quick snaps of recollection that were crystal clear. Staggering up a rocky path with a paper bag full of bottles. Tripping over her own feet, sending bottles tumbling everywhere. Shoving them all back into the bag and veering off down a hill. Giggling as she slipped and slid, taking long swallows from a bottle every few feet.
Whisky. No wonder her body hated her today.
Whimpering, she rolled slowly onto her back again. The cold cloth flopped off the side of her head onto the pillow with a plop. She didn't want to move just to put it back on her forehead.
“All right, sugar, you're a smart cookie. Found your meds in the glove box.” Thane's voice was low, little more than a whisper. The bed dipped as he sat beside her, then the sound of a box opening and something ripping open almost made her throw up again. Too loud. “I'm guessing you breathe in deep through your nose, then I stick this up your nostril and press the plunger.”
Connie blew out a breath and nodded. Breathing in, she felt gentle hands on her over-sensitizedface. He held one nostril closed, then cold plastic invaded the other one. There was a pause, a click, then liquid spurted up into her nasal cavity. She hated the next part. The meds tasted like shit when she swallowed, almost acidic, and always gave her a sore throat. “Thanks.”
“It's okay. It's not a problem. Atticus called Braun and asked him about your meds. They're pretty pissed you haven't told them about the migraines, by the way, and that's on top of your stunt yesterday. Braun spoke to Alicia, and she says you listen to audiobooks when you have an episode. The coyotes used your phone like a chew toy, so I've downloaded the book app onto mine and bought the book she's sure you listen to most.”
What? For the first time, Connie cracked her eyelids open a fraction. She whispered, “You bought me an audiobook?”
“Alicia swears you depend on it when you're sick. You need it, I got it. No big deal.” Thane offered her a quiet smile in the dim light and held up a pair of earphones. “You use these, or just on speaker?”
She swallowed. If her head wasn't on the verge of exploding, she'd have burst into tears at his kindness. For some, it would be a simple thing to be brushed aside, but to realize he'd gone to the effort of installing an app he didn't use himself and bought her a book because she was sick? No one had ever done that for her. No one. She was an independent woman who took care of herself, but this gesture wormed inside her like no other.
She lifted her hand, ignoring how badly it shook, and grasped his wrist. “Thank you, Thane.”
He bent and kissed her forehead, then eased away and gently pressed the buds into her ears. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he messed around with it, turning down the volume, then plugged the earphone cable in. “Shout if you need me,” he told her, then pressed play and set the phone in her hand.
Years of training her body to relax to the spoken word kicked into effect. As the narrator began to speak, the muscles in her neck and shoulders stopped straining against the pain and relaxed, the rest of her following suit. Ignoring the horrible taste in her mouth, Connie closed her eyes and let the story flow through her mind until her brain finally went quiet.
*
Thane hobbled around his bedroom, feeling every hour he'd spent hiking around the damn desert the night before. He tidied up the trash from Connie's meds, then posted himself as her guardian, stretching out beside her in the dark. He didn't know much about migraines, but he was gaining firsthand knowledge now.
With the amount of whisky she'd drunk, he wouldn't be surprised if that had kickstarted the episode. God knew he'd have been on his knees, his head in the toilet after a session like that.
For the moment, Thane was holding the Masters off. The migraine was a good excuse to keep them away for a bit longer, but all five men were champing at the bit to read Connie the riot act. She was lucky he'd been quick tongued and persuaded them to let him bring her here.
Braun wasn't pleased he'd been outvoted on taking her to his house—a pregnant sub who needed as little stress as possible, and her disabled sister weren't exactly who he needed to stand as witnesses for Connie's lecture.
Jasper had volunteered to tend to her for the night, with Anarchy's help. But the way the guy's fingers twitched, Thane thought the sadist was keen to get the spanking underway.
Both Loki and Liam hadn't pressed too hard to be considered as caretakers—Liam had an early delivery at Avalon to see to, and Loki claimed he had to be at work by eight a.m. Considering the search and rescue hadn't finished until almost four, Thane didn't think the boy would be in much shape to do any work at all.
And then there was Atticus. The big oaf was a complete softie, that much was evident. He'd hovered around Connie like a new mother, flipping between acting like an irate Dom and coddling her. When Thane sweettalked them into letting her come with him, Atticus had weighed him up with a keen eye, then given his nod of approval…and a strict warning of what would happen to Thane if anything happened to Connie.
After that warning, Thane wasn't sure breathing in the Master's presence was a brilliant idea.
Avalon was open tonight, and he'd promised to drive Connie there if she was well enough. He had his doubts, especially now he'd seen her paler than glass and chucking her guts up as though she'd shoved her fingers down her throat. He'd emptied and washed the bowl on his way to the car, and made sure to place it back on her side of the bed in case she had need of it.
Hopefully, the spray he'd injected up her nose would work quickly. He hated seeing anyone or anything in pain, and she had been in monumental agony. It had a habit of carving lines around the eyes and mouth, and the grooves around hers weren't fresh. They spoke of periods of time where pain was her whole existence.
Checking his watch, he read 15:02 on the luminous numbers, and settled in for a nap. By the time Atticus had dropped him off with his new charge—with Loki following behind in Connie’s car, which had been located down on the highway—it had been after five in the morning, and Thane had tended to Connie before he even thought about catching up on sleep himself. But he was lagging now, and a nap wouldn't harm—not when he was adamant she was sleeping, with a book called Kept By Him chattering away in her ears.
When he woke, the bed was empty. He damn near had a heart attack until the toilet flushed. He pushed himself up into a lounging position, hooking his hand behind his head and resting the other on his belly. He listened to the tap run as Connie washed her hands, then smiled as she padded out of his bathroom, the light backlighting her naked figure to perfection.
She flicked the light off, and her footsteps were hesitant as she navigated her way toward the bed in the dark. He loved the blackout blinds he'd installed; they cut out every speck of light. The covers rustled as the mattress sank slightly, and Connie settled back in as if she'd never left.
“Feeling better?” he asked, unsure if she was still wearing the earphones.
