“Any other notable features?”
I delve into my mind, playing through the brief bursts of imagery. “Average build, though on the taller side. Ran quick and knew how to dodge gunfire. Beyond that…nothing.”
He eases back against the headboard. “Not Quinn, then. She’s fast, but she’s small like you.”
“You sound relieved.”
“Oui.It means we’ve hit yet another wall, but…I spoke with her. I’ll tell you more when you’ve had some rest.”
“Haven’t I rested enough?”
“You were stabbed, Poppy, and you lost a lot of blood. Your body went comatose to heal the worst of it, but you’ll still need a few weeks to recover.”
“Exactly what we don’t have: time.”
“We’ll do what we can.” He kisses my nose and traces his fingers over my dragon tattoo. “For now, rest is your ticket out of this bed.”
Rubbing my eyes, I scan the empty room and snowy windows. “How long have I been here?”
“A while.”
“How many hours?”
“Try days.”
“Days?” My eyeballs bug. “I haven’t pissed or shit indays?”
“That’s what catheters and bedpans are for.”
“Catheters and bed…” I wriggle beneath the blankets, and my pulse skyrockets. “Oh,kuso—”
“Relax, before you give yourself a heart attack.” He gives me what I assume is meant to be a reassuring smile. “Rin and Emi have been bathing and changing you.”
“Changingme?”
He winces. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“I want to take my own bath,” I seethe, “and I don’t want anyone’sfuckinghelp.”
Brontë chuckles, curling a knuckle beneath my chin and capturing my scowl with a tender kiss that nearly brings me to tears. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Poppy.”
I kiss him, over and over.
Because I can.
And because I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.
Time passes in a haze. My friends visit when they can, even though they shouldn’t take the risk. My parents linger when they think I’m asleep, their whispers low yet no less urgent. Brontë only leaves when he must. Dantë or Dr. V watch me in his stead. Otherwise, he’s at my bedside. Reading, humming, sleeping. Drinking coffee. Always,alwaysholding my hand.
I yawn as Brontë settles into his seat with Jezebel stretching at his feet. “What are you reading tonight?”
“A book.” He winks at my scowl. “You wouldn’t like it. There’s no vampires.”
“That’s not all I read, you know.”
“There’s no sex, either.”
“Ugh, bor-ing.”