His abdomen still caused him tremendous pain even though surgery as well as Horace’s help had speeded up what on Mortal Earth would have been months of recovery and a plethora of scarring. Ascended vampire healing would allow him to leave the hospital in three or four more days almost good as new.
He lifted his left hand carefully and shoved it through his long loose hair. He took a careful breath. Damn. Even breathing caused him trouble. He had never been wounded like this before.
Alison had been with him every day. Her presence had been necessary, even critical for his recovery. This morning, however, he’d awakened with new thoughts, horrifying thoughts, the revisiting of past tragedies, of deep painful regrets, deeds he still wished undone.
Former wives came to mind, former children. He hurt all over again as though life had just strapped a band around his chest and kept tightening it as the hours progressed.
As for Alison, his thoughts weren’t focused on the mistake she had made, on the hand-blast she had sent that had almost cost him his life. No, when he thought back to her celebration, all he could recall was the terrible sensation of battling in full-mount with his breh at his back and knowing how one wrong slip of his sword would take her life, that if he didn’t make every right move, if he took one wrong step to the right or to the left while battling the death vamps, she would be struck down and most likely killed.
He didn’t blame Alison for what happened after that. He knew who to blame, that bastard who had styled himself the Commander simply because he wished it so.
As attacks went, this one had been damn clever. Greaves had fed Alison a vision and she’d bought it. Clearly his intention hadn’t been to harm her but to use her, which once more forced the issue of proximity. Since she was ascended and had completed her rite, she was now safe from direct attack, but not from collateral damage should she remain connected to him or to any of the Warriors of the Blood.
The oh-so-logical conclusion barreled down on him
Ever since COPASS had been created and the rule of law was established over the ongoing conflict between Endelle and Greaves, no ascendiate, however powerful, had been attacked after an ascension ceremony. So this attack hadn’t been about Alison. She’d merely been the tool Greaves had chosen to use to once more take up arms against the Warriors of the Blood.
What had he been thinking? The truth was, his thoughts had been selfish, focused on his pleasure, his need for Alison, his desire for her. Bottom line? He’d been keeping himself in a powerful state of denial about his current position as a Warrior of the Blood.
And now they were having a daughter.
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The near-fatal accident, Alison’s hand-blast to his chest, had become a huge awakening to the folly he had almost committed with her.
He’d been living in a dream, pretending Second Earth was something other than what it was, as though his life as a warrior, his place of service, wasn’t the difficult dangerous task it was.
Yes, being in the hospital, bedridden so his internal organs could continue repairing at light speed, had given him time to think, to plan, and that plan didn’t include Alison being anywhere near him.
There was only one reason he didn’t embrace the idea fully—the thought of living without her plunged a knife straight through his heart. How was he to live in a world in which he couldn’t be with her, touch her, possess the well of her body?
From this point forward, however, her safety, as well as the safety of their child, could be the only consideration. And they would never be safe near him.
A knock on the door, then Alison entered his room. She wore a light green silk blouse. She had worn something similar the evening he had first met her at the medical complex and, yeah, her hair was bound up again, wrapped into that tight twist. How long ago was that? Years ago …
She looked so beautiful yet so sad. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose looked a little swollen. The pressure on his chest increased incrementally with each step she took toward him.
“Hi,” she said, her voice little more than a breathy whisper. She drew close, leaned over him, and kissed him … on the forehead.
He shifted his head and met her gaze. Dammit, she had tears swimming over her blue, gold-rimmed eyes. “What’s wrong? The baby okay?”
She touched her abdomen. “Baby’s fine.”
He released a sigh. “Good. That’s good.”
She drew a chair forward, close to the bed, as was her habit. She sat down and took hold of his right hand. Tears now pelted her cheeks. She kept wiping them away with her free hand but more followed.
“Alison, what’s wrong?” He thought he knew. Well, they were like-minded. He knew her mind. She knew his. Yeah, he knew.
She lifted her gaze to his. “We can’t do this, can we?”
So she’d reached the same damn conclusion. He shook his head back and forth, back and forth. His throat tightened. “I don’t see how.”
She nodded and a sob escaped her as she put her forehead on the back of his hand.
“Don’t cry.” Stupid words, especially since his eyes burned and his jaw cramped.
He let her be and worked hard to unknot his throat. After a while, she rose and plucked several of the very thin hospital tissues from the box by his bed then blew her nose. Even with her eyes leaking and a cloud of tissue pressed to her face she looked so damn beautiful.
Once recovered, she said, “I’ve been thinking that perhaps I should go somewhere else, not stay here in Phoenix, maybe live in a different city.”
“Another city?”
She turned toward him and huffed a breath. “Just how easy do you think it would be to stay apart if we lived in the same place?”
He looked away from her. “It would be impossible. But where would you go?” Would he ever get to see his daughter? If so, how often? How the hell could this work? Yet he knew she was right. From this point forward, he was the real danger to their safety, just as he had been to Helena.
Still, the thought of Alison anywhere but next to him made his biceps crunch into boulders. His instincts where she was concerned were alive, painfully so.
“What the f**k are you talking about?” a hard feminine voice bellowed into the room. “Another city, Alison? Don’t be a saphead.”
Kerrick turned toward the door. Endelle materialized wearing a very strange cape made of peacock feathers and a short spotted hide dress. Add a few strands of beads and she would have looked as though she’d just returned from Mardi Gras. Christ.