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“Am I dead?” His question is muffled by the fluffy pillow.
“You’re not dead.” My hand tightens on the cloth, one finger extending to trace a lovely curl behind his ear. Goosebumps raise on his skin. “If you were, I would break down heaven’s gates to bring you back down to earth with me.”
I can’t help that I’m mostly heart. It’s a blessing and a curse.
His silence twists my gut, warning me that I overstepped again.
“Am I high?” he finally asks.
Stomach twisting into little knots, I recall all the prescription bottles in his kitchen cabinet. “Did you take something, Z?”
I’ve watched drugs ruin too many other bands over the years. If he’s addicted to something… Jesus, I don’t know what I’d do. Call up an army of professional help to guide him through it? Whatever the most extreme reaction is sounds about right for me.
“No. Just wondering how you can be real.”
My gentle laugh relieves the worry my brain was spinning like a cotton candy machine operated by a clown with something to prove. I hold a cup of Night Nurse medicine to his lips. “You have weird brands here. Thankfully, the pharmacist was a fan of Atonement and helped me pick shit out. I paced the aisles for a good ten minutes. People thought I was insane.”
He leans up just enough to drink down the green liquid, then flops back down on the bed.
Sighing, I tuck our meal in the fridge. Then I grab the bag of weird Twizzlers I bought and settle into the bed next to him to wait out his sickness.
Ten
Z
Myeyesadjusttoa dark, unfamiliar room.
Terror has me rising up on a forearm, the sensation of warm blood seeping over my body lingering from another nightmare. I glance around and spot white light shining from under a hotel bathroom door. The rhythmic sound of water striking tile filters through the ambulance sirens slowly fading in my ears.
I fight to remember where I am and how I got here. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve blacked out on something and wound up in a dangerous situation.
But then I remember Hail’s gentle touches. His fingers ruffling my hair. His encouraging words to drink more fluids throughout the day and night. His soft laughter as he tuned into some comedy show on TV. The comfort of his body lined up against mine in the bed, knees and hips and elbows touching, like we’ve known each other intimately for years.
My cheeks flood with surprising heat. Despite what fans and the media may believe about Mykhail Koval, the guy’s a softie. He spent his precious free time tending to me. I don’t know that there’s an ounce of malice in his bones. He’s considerate and talented and… tempting as hell.
Rubbing at my eyes, I push off the bed without any ache in my muscles. No urge to puke, either. My throat feels fine too, and I wonder if I dreamed up being sick. How fucking long was I out?
I wander over to the curtains and pull one side back enough to hiss at the bright sunlight that assaults me. Either I passed out for a couple hours or for an entire day. Judging by the way I feel, I’m leaning toward the latter.
Shutting the curtains once more, I flick on a lamp and find my backpack propped in a chair. Hail must have packed it for me. I can’t help a smirk as I look through the random selections he made. No matching socks, but at least he managed to find a clean pair of boxers.
My chest tightens. I know I should keep my walls up to protect Hail from the damage I cause, but I’m also appreciative of everything he’s done. It’s more than anyone’s done for me since Lex…
Fuck. My fingers dig into the textured material of my backpack. I can’t go there right now.
I swallow down the expanding ball of emotions in my throat. Fighting the urge to claw at my skin or self-medicate, I pull out my notebook and plop down in a chair, not bothering with a shirt, to work through half a song before Hail walks out of the bathroom, wrapped in only a towel.
Whatever parameters I’ve set for myself when it comes to the metal god are demolished in an instant. I’m in rapture over his exposed skin. It’s sun-kissed and smooth. I want to run my hands over his defined strength. Stroke a fingertip along the bars speared through his pink nipples. Trace the lines of the intricate, black and white dueling Chinese dragons up the side of his body, highlighted by golden flowers.
He catches me blatantly checking him out and flashes a seductive grin. “Feeling better, I see.”
Nodding, I rip my attention away from his body and stare at the ink in my notebook. “Felt a moment of inspiration after your excellent care. You didn’t have to do any of this. Thank you, though.”
He moves closer, leaning down to wrap an arm loosely around my neck. It’s a half embrace, one that brings his scent of rain and spicy body wash into my lungs where I want to trap it forever.
“Anytime, Z. Anytime.”
He pulls away and rifles through a suitcase for clothes while I distract myself, sketching little designs along the margins in my notebook to keep from watching him dress.
