“Nothing is going to happen to her,” I snarl.
My tone leaves no room for argument, and Lydia’s mouth closes. I turn my face toward the bed, refusing to look at her any longer. Charles’s hands are still moving.
“Go, Lydia,” I order. “Leave us.”
She hesitates. “Lucas…”
“Go!”
I hear her silk robe whisper as she turns around. The door clicks shut behind her.
One of my soldiers hands me a pair of pants, and I pull them on. Kneeling by the side of the bed, I hold Sienna’s hand. It is so cold. I bring it up to my mouth and press my lips against her knuckles. Closing my eyes, I speak against her skin so only she can hear me.
“You’ll be fine. You have to be, Sienna.”
My wolf won’t stop whimpering.
Chapter Sixteen
Sienna
My body hurts like somebody ran me over with a car a couple of times. As awareness flickers through me, I feel like my head weighs too much for my neck. My mouth tastes of copper.
What happened to me?
Slowly, I open my eyes and look at the ceiling. For a moment, what I’m seeing doesn’t register on me, and then I realize that the ceiling is wrong. Wrong wood. Wrong color. The room is dark, with heavy curtains drawn against the day or the night. I do not know which.
I also do not know where I am.
Something stirs on my right, and I turn my head. Pain crashes down my shoulder in a bright line.
Lucas is sprawled in a chair beside the bed. His clothes are creased, and there are shadows under his eyes as he sleeps. I silently observe him, still confused about what is happening. He looks like hell. He’s always so well groomed, so to see him like this is a little alarming. He also smells like blood—not his, so my wolf doesn’t react.
I try to sit up. The pain flares so hotly that I gasp, and Lucas’s hand is on my chest before I even notice him moving. His palm presses me gently back into the pillow.
“Easy,” he breathes. “Easy. You’re safe.”
I stare up at him. The word safe knocks loose something I am not ready to feel. “What happened?” My throat is dry enough to crack. “Why are you here?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, stalling. “I’ll get you some water.”
He turns his back to me, and I hear him pouring water into a glass. I take the moment to reevaluate myself. Bandages are covering my entire stomach and my left arm. It’s rare for our kind to need bandaging unless the injuries are incredibly severe.
When Lucas turns back around, he gently lifts me into a sitting position, and I groan.
He stops. “Does it still hurt?”
“What do you think?” I let out a shuddering breath. “What happened to me?”
He lifts the glass to my lips. “You don’t remember?”
I shake my head. I feel so groggy that even that slight movement makes me want to close my eyes.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, then.” He gently nudges me down. “Sleep. You need your rest.”
“But…” My voice trails off, slurring. The exhaustion that hits me is different. It’s a sluggish feeling, and I let it drag me down. “Y–You’ll stay?”
He takes my hand. “I’ll be right here.”