Page 51 of Milked for the Holidays

“What seems to be the problem? Can’t you handle it?”

“No, asshole. I can’t handle it. I wouldn’t be calling you if I could. Something’s wrong with Jessica.”

He frowns and leans forward, his face filling the screen. “Is the protein not working? Give her a double dose and see what that does.”

“She’s burning up, talking to someone who’s not here, and her body won’t stop shaking.”

For the first time, I watch my brother’s face pale. It scares me more than anything else.

“Get her into a cool bath. When was the last time she was milked?”

“This morning. Fucking Jakroon kept me away with his normal bullshit.”

“Get her into the tub and drain her. I’m on my way.”

Throwing the communicator on the bed, I hoist Jessica up in my arms. Her skin is blazing hot as I carry her into the bathroom. I lay her down on the cool tile as I adjust the temperature of the water.

My movements are frantic, hurried as I go back into the bedroom to grab the tubes. I only bring collection containers, not caring if the milk spoils while I tend to her. Jessica is far more important than the milk she gives me.

I hook up the tubes and hold my breath, waiting as her milk flows out of her. The tight lines around her face ease a bit as the pressure lessens. Soft groans reach my ears as she shakes her head back and forth.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she murmurs. “Can’t I just take the day off? It’s not like you never skipped a day of work.”

She must be talking to her mother again. Worry eats at me as I lower both of us into the tub. The cool water makes my teeth chatter as I hold Jessica tight against my chest.

It’s worse for her, though. The moment the water covers her body, the shivers become far more pronounced. She bucks against me, fighting against the cold. I hold on, smothering her in my grip.

Rocking back and forth, I look up at the ceiling, praying to the Celestials that she’ll be okay. Nagán will help her. He has to. I burrow my head into her neck as I listen to the nearly incoherent babbling.

Sorrow and anguish pour from her as she converses with the woman who gave her life. Her words become frantic, slurred almost, as desperation laces her tone. This woman means the world to her. It’s evident by the almost reverent way Jessica speaks.

Nagán bursts through the door, his face pinched. Worry radiates from him, making his movements jerky and rushed. Reaching under her arms, he lifts her from me and carries her into the bedroom.

The tubes drag along the floor, tangling up. The bags containing her milk strain against the pressure of being tugged on until they finally burst, spilling the precious liquid all over the tiles.

It means nothing to me. I realize as I watch it disappear, sucked in by the responsive tiles, that nothing is more precious to me than her. I stride into the room and take off my suit, ignoring my brother’s glare.

I need to be skin-to-skin with her, to feel her against me as Nagán looks her over. Climbing into the bed, I pull her into my arms. Almost instinctively, she turns into me, nuzzling my chest. We rock back and forth as he removes the suction from her nipples.

Drops of milk dot the irritated skin, but he wipes it away as he examines her. He and I remain silent as Jessica continues to ask for her mother. It tears at my heart. I would give her the world, but I can’t give her that.

The only way her mother would be allowed on this planet is to be a cow. Jessica wouldn’t want that. Besides, older women don’t do as well. It would be a misery for both of them.

Time crawls by as Nagán draws vial after vial of blood. His face scrunches into a frown as he studies readouts I have no hope of understanding. The only good thing is the concoction he gives her lowers the heat in her body.

She’s still warm, but it no longer feels like a furnace drifting off of her skin. As her temperature lowers, so do the slurred words until she’s resting in my arms. I hold her close, looking at my brother for answers.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathes out.

My entire existence stops at those two little words.

“What?” My voice is hoarse, raspy as my breathing quickens. “No. Please. You have to save her. Please. Anything. Name it. I’ll do it.”

“It’s not possible. She’s allergic to our serum. Something in it is causing this reaction. It’s what made her breasts grow impossibly large and what’s draining her, keeping her from healing.”

“Do something,” I scream, only quieting when Jessica jolts in my arms. “She cannot die. I won’t allow it.”

“Such dramatics,” he murmurs. “She’s not going to die. That is, if I reverse the serum. It’s what will save her.”