Camping Trip IX
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An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
“Calm the fuck down!” Eric snapped over the phone while Caine was forced to reach over and grab hold of the doorframe and crush it until pieces of wood, dust and plaster crumbled beneath his hand as he struggled to keep it together, but damn near impossible to do while he was forced to stand over his mate and watch as she sat in the tub, hugging her legs tightly to her chest and laid her head on her knees, trembling as she struggled to deal with whatever hell her body was putting her through while he stood there on the phone, fucking useless.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he snarled viciously as he forced himself to look away from the sight of her, because he honestly wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.
He’d already been forced to watch her suffer, doomed to die forever from cancer thanks to him, and every minute of it he had hated himself, prayed that he could take her suffering from her, anything just so that he could see her smile without having to force herself to pretend like she wished that she was dead. That last few months had given him hope, made him stupidly believe that this was all behind them, that he would never have to watch her suffer again.
He’d been wrong.
So, fucking wrong.
She was suffering and there was nothing that he could do to stop it except call up Eric and take this all out on him for not curing her. They should have cured her, made all this go away, but they hadn’t. They hadn’t cured her. They hadn’t taken away her pain or ended her suffering like he’d hoped they would, prayed they would. They’d failed, he realized, wanting to scream in frustration when Danni released a little whimper and a groan behind him as she sat beneath the spray of freezing cold water because she felt like she was burning up and for a few seconds there, he had as well.
One second he couldn’t stop thinking about just how good it would feel to have her tongue flick his piercing, playing with it and teasing him until he found himself wrapping his hand around his shaft and pushing the tip past her lips so that she could take him deeply before he couldn’t take anymore and found a way to get between her legs with his tongue or his cock, it wouldn’t have mattered, and the next she felt like she was going to burst into flames in his arms.
He’d been set on fire a few times in his life, but he’d never felt anything as hot as her skin had felt while he’d held her in his arms. Christ, he could move fast when he wanted to, but he couldn’t seem to get her to the tub fast enough. One second she was screaming as though she was being torn apart and dropped in a vat of acid and the next, she was completely quiet.
The fact that she hadn’t said a single word or sound since he’d placed her in the shower was actually terrifying him more than anything. When the cancer had been really bad she’d sometimes get quiet, but never like this. She’d might have gotten quiet when the pain was becoming too much, but she’d always pretended that everything was fine. She’d force a smile, make herself get out of bed, train with the others and go on patrol while they all knew that she’d rather lay down and cry and stop having to keep on kept pretending that everything was going to be okay and they’d pretended not to notice the strains of pain around her eyes, the dried tears marking her face, the way all the color in her skin would bleach away after she’d forced herself to feed.
No matter how sick she’d felt or how pain she was in, she’d always done whatever she could to pretend that she was fine. She’d never drawn into herself like this before, never got all quiet and just sat there, and she’d never shut him out before.
Not like this.
“I want to know what you’ve been giving my mate!” he demanded, barely resisting the urge to growl as he forced himself to step out of that room and away from the only thing in this world that anything to him.
“You know what we’ve been giving her,” Eric responded tightly, obviously just as angry and terrified as he was, but even knowing that didn’t do anything to make him feel like his entire world was being torn apart beneath him.
Christ, he just wanted to hit something, to kill something, to yell, scream, anything to shove this feeling of terror and hopelessness away for good and make her better, but there was nothing that he could do to fix this situation for her.
“I don’t know what is going on, but as soon as we get a blood sample we’ll known exactly what we’re dealing with here. The only thing that I can think of is that something in Christofer’s must have had a delayed reaction with the demon and shifter blood we’ve been giving her. It that’s the case, then one more hit of Christofer’s blood should help or make this problem doormat again until we can-”
“Mine!” the low possessive utterly terrifying growl had him stopping mid-step and a shot of unease tearing down his spine as he stood there with his back to the bathroom, swallowing hard when the scent hit him, letting him know that things were about to get a lot worse.
“Mine!” came the growl again right around the time that he felt a small arm wrap around him seconds before he found himself flying across the room.
He landed on the bed with a pained gasp that was followed by an, “Oh, shit,” when he spotted her, standing at the end of his bed, naked, dripping wet and watching him through glowing red eyes as she hungrily licked her lips, looking like she wanted to devour him on the spot.
“Caine?” he absently heard Eric say from across the room where he’d dropped the phone, sounding a little unsure while Caine was absolutely positive that his mate had finally found a way to kill him.
When she reached over, grabbed hold of the waistband of his jeans and tore them clean from his body, he knew very well that this night, he might actually die.
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