My mood surprisingly lighter, I settled in to watch the movie. Just as one of my favorite parts approached, I got the weirdest, most indefinable “feeling” and my vision began to blur. My stomach bottomed out, because I knew what that meant.
I straightened, nearly knocking the bowl off my lap. “No, not now.”
“What?”
My pulse quickening, I shuffled forward on my seat and put the bowl on the floor, knowing I wouldn’t have long before I was out of commission. “I’ve got to get to my room.”
“Why?” Dane appeared in front of me. “Vienna, what’s wrong?”
Seeing double of him—hell, of everything—I blinked hard. “It’s just a migraine, but they can get bad.” Already, the world was beginning to spin around me, and my head felt so freakishly heavy it was hard to hold it up. “Double vision. Vertigo. Muscle weakness. Sometimes nausea and head pain, too.” The symptoms tended to creep up on me one at a time but in fast succession.
I pushed to my feet, and my knees wobbled. “Shit.”
Dane scooped me up. “I got you. Come on.”
I weakly fisted his shirt as he carried me out of the room. “Listen, I won’t be able to move much, and my speech will get all slurry. It’s normal. Just leave me on the bed. It’ll all wear off.”
He didn’t say anything. He just carried me through the house and into my room, where he pulled back the satin coverlet and then very carefully lay me on the bed. “You have pills for these migraines?” he asked.
“Nightstand drawer.” The words came out low and garbled. Feeling like someone had sucked every bit of energy out of my system, I closed my eyes and lay there like a heavy weight. Despite being mentally alert and not in the least bit sleepy, I couldn’t fight the physical lethargy.
Worse, the whole world-spinning-around-me sensation didn’t cease when I lay down. No, it left me with the most godawful feeling. Like I was lying on a rocking boat.
“Sit up. Take these.” Dane helped me rise just enough to take two pills with a glass of water he must have gotten from the bathroom. “Good girl.” He eased me back down on the bed and then sat beside me, leaning against the headboard.
I would have again told him that he didn’t have to stay with me, but I knew the words would have come out all slurry and faint. I hated the migraines. Hated how they left me feeling so drained that everything felt like an effort—even the simple process of breathing in and out. Like there was a freaking truck sitting on my chest, crushing it.
There was a whirring sound that I recognized as the electronic shades lowering. Although my eyes were closed, I felt the difference in the lighting.
I curled into a ball—a move that was much harder than it should have been. Not only had my muscle control gone to shit, my entire body felt like it weighed of lead.
When minutes went by and no head pain or nausea came along, I silently thanked the universe. Especially since I really didn’t want to hurl in front of Dane. I had my pride.
The familiar sound of his thumbs tapping on a cell phone screen told me he was probably working in some capacity. Typical.
I kept thinking he would get up and leave at some point, but he stayed. And although it really wasn’t necessary for him to be there, it … well, it was touching that he’d chosen to stay. He’d no doubt leave when he was satisfied that I was sleeping. Now that the pills had really started to kick in, it wouldn’t be long before I dozed off.
Fingers slid through my hair and gently glided along my scalp, but not even the pleasure of Dane’s touch was enough to hold off the tug of sleep. It soon swept me under.
When I next opened my eyes, the room was lightish, courtesy of my sunrise alarm clock. I snuggled beneath the bedcovers and inwardly groaned. I felt groggy as all shit. Migraine pills, I thought as the fog of sleep began to dissipate. They always had this effect on me. Well, at least the unnatural fatigue and boat-rocking sensation had faded.
I rolled over … and stilled. Because I wasn’t alone. He’s still here. He hadn’t left me.
He was also asleep.
I doubted he’d meant to stay the whole night, or he’d surely have laid down. Instead, he’d placed his pillows behind him