Billionaire's Captive Complete Trilogy - Stasia Black Page 0,145

mundane hum of machines. The murmur of quiet voices in the distance. Before I open my eyes, I know where I am.

My lashes flutter. Each eyelid weighs a thousand pounds. My mouth is full of sand. When I lick my lips to wet them, the skin cracks. I hiss in pain.

There’s an IV needle in my arms. White sheets tuck me into a medical bed. I’m surrounded by gray-blue walls with generic art hung here and there. Even the sunlight is dim and subdued, filtered through the thick glass.

The hospital. I’ve been here before. Too many times.

A chair creaks. Logan’s sitting beside me, his huge body straining the limits of the poor hospital chair. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet. His dark head is in his hands, his face bared. He’s not hiding behind masks anymore.

I watch him for a moment, drinking in the sight of his large form in the Thinker’s pose. He’s a sculptor’s wet dream. The muscles of his shoulders, the veins on his forearms—he’s rolled up his shirt sleeves, the white fabric straining with the bulge of his biceps. The handsome slope of his jaw.

I must’ve made some sound, because he raises his head.

“Daphne,” he murmurs.

I blink up at him. It’s like whiplash, going from the dream that felt so real to this. We were just so happy, walking under the sunshine, it was only a moment ago…

But the monster always comes, doesn’t it?

I’ll never be able to escape. It was stupid to ever think I could.

I can calculate how long I’ve been here by the length of stubble on Logan’s face. One, maybe two days?

I open my cracked lips. “Water…”

He offers me a cup with a straw and I sip gratefully. Not so long ago, I cared for my father this same way. When he was on his deathbed. What goes around...

“Where?” I rasp as soon as I can get the word out.

“New Olympus General. The closest hospital to Thornhill was a shithole, so I had them medivac you here.”

“Ah.” I let my head roll on the pillow. I can imagine Logan yelling on the roof of a hospital, loud enough to be heard over the helicopter blades. I want to smile but the muscles of my face feel weak.

“How long?” I ask.

“You’ve been here thirty hours.” He captures my hand and brings it to his face. I twitch a finger against his bristly jaw and find the strength to smile. None of this is his fault. He had no idea what he was getting into with me.

“You...need a shave.”

“Daphne. Fuck.” His big hands swallow my fragile one. For a moment he presses our twined fingers to his forehead, hiding his face behind our hands.

I swallow. The sand is mostly washed from my mouth. Time to ask the hard questions.

“How long?” I ask again.

He raises his head. His eyes are rimmed red. “I just told you—”

When I shake my head, he falls silent.

“How long...do I have left?”

He presses my hand to his face again. “The doctors...fuck.” His voice is muffled. “They don’t know. They say it’s your third relapse.”

“Yes.” I remember the first two quite vividly.

“I read your medical history. Daphne…” He bows his head almost to the bed. His voice comes muffled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I set my right hand on his head and stroke his thick hair. Each movement is painful, like my very bones and blood protest.

“It was in remission.” The inside of my mouth tastes bitter. I hate talking about my disease. My old adversary. So many battles lost and won. “I wanted to forget I was ever an invalid. I didn’t want to live like that.”

It’s more than that, too, though I’m not even sure if I can explain it. I take another long sip of water before trying again. He deserves an explanation. “And it’s like, when I’m healthy, I can forget this part of me even exists. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism or maybe I really believed in my heart I was done with it.”

Logan’s face is still pained, though. “But everything that we did...everything I did...I hurt you, Daphne. The games we played...”

“No,” I say fiercely. Is that what he’s thinking? “I don’t want you to ever regret our time together. I don’t.”

It doesn’t take away the agony in his dark eyes. “What have I done to you?” he whispers.

“Not you. I was born this way.” This was always my destiny. Doesn’t he get that? The course of my life was written in my DNA before