Page 58 of Virtually Guarded

I’m here, I kept telling him through our bond, not certain whether he heard. I’m here. I repeated it too many times, because I could do nothing else while I waited to see if he woke up.

Chapter Thirteen: Ren

The light was too fucking bright. The ache in my closed eyelids mirrored the too-sharp pain on the back of my head. There was something else on the back of my head, too, but I couldn’t figure out what. And something felt weird between my legs, but that barely registered. The pain was the worst thing.

I blinked, hoping the pain would stop. It didn’t.

“Ren?”

A quiet voice. A voice I knew, pulling me out of the pain. I opened my eyes completely and looked up into deep brown eyes under a furrowed brow.

My mate. My Xavier.

“Can you hear me?” He lowered himself so his face was level with mine. “It’s me. Xavier.”

“I know.” My voice was croaky, crackly, and my throat was drier than the frigging Sahara. “Thirsty.”

“Yeah. There’s water.” He moved, and I didn’t quite manage to tell him not to leave before he was gone. But he was back within seconds holding a bottle of water with a bendy straw sticking out of the top. “Here. Just a sip. I know you’re thirsty, but don’t drink too fast.”

I obeyed. The water tasted amazing, and I tried to drink more, but Xavier pulled the straw away. “I know,” he said again. “The doctor needs to look at you first.”

“Doctor?” I sounded a little less crackly this time, but I couldn’t manage the rest of the words for my question. Why did the doctor need to look at me? I was healed, wasn’t I? Days had gone by since the assault, unless I’d dreamed the entire gathering and coming to Winthrop with Xavier.

Fleeing Winthrop. Running away after I confessed to Xavier what I’d done on the streets.

Gregory Malkin.

I screamed. Well, I croaked, but the intention was the same.

“It’s okay.” Instantly Xavier was on the bed, sitting beside me, stroking my forehead with gentle fingertips. “You’re safe, Ren. He can’t hurt you.” His expression turned stony. “He can’t hurt anyone ever again. The Anax ensured it.”

Figuring out what that meant didn’t take a genius. The Anax had killed Gregory Malkin. Like he should have done in the first goddamn place. Too little, too late. Tears ran down my face, and I screamed—croaked—again. Xavier just kept lightly stroking my forehead, murmuring words I couldn’t make out through the rage and panic rushing through my brain.

Finally, he took my hand. “You’re safe,” he said again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t keep you safe that night.”

“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t done anything. I was the one who’d taken off like the proverbial bat out of hell. Running, like I’d done the day I met him.

“No.” He gave me a tiny smile. “Don’t apologize. You told me something incredibly tough, and I should have taken better care of you afterward. Nothing you said changes how I feel, Ren, just so you know. You’re still my mate. I—” He hesitated. “I care about you. A lot. I need to go let Doctor Gumendo know you’re awake. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t.” I still couldn’t quite get words together. “Stay. Please.”

“He needs to see you.” Regret filled his expression. “I promise, I’m not leaving. Look, I’ll just…Actually, I have my phone. I’ll stay right here.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed the screen. “Seth. Ren’s awake. Would you please send Doctor Gumendo up?”

“He’ll be right there,” Seth replied.

Xavier tossed the phone toward the bureau. It missed and landed on the floor, and he shrugged. “Good thing those phones are sturdy. Ren, I’m right here, okay? The doctor might need me to step out while he checks you over, but if he does, I’ll be right outside the door.”

I didn’t want him outside the door. I didn’t want him away from me at all. If he’d forgiven me for the way I’d taken off on him, I needed him to stay beside me. I needed to see him there.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for,” he said softly. “Yes, I do hear your thoughts. You did nothing wrong, Ren. You were upset and scared that night, and I didn’t help.”

“That night.” It was the second time he’d phrased it that way. “Last night?”

Looking grave, he shook his head. “Night before last. It’s Sunday now. You’ve been unconscious. G—You were badly injured. Your head.”

“He…” That explained the pain, and the other thing I felt on my head was probably a bandage. Badly injured. At the hands of Gregory Malkin. Remembering my head against brick, the glee in Gregory’s expression, the squelching, I wailed. “Oh, gods!”