short time. The intensity of my feelings for her were unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Just when I’d been so determined not to get close to a woman again, Maya seemed to have wormed her way into my heart already, somehow. It seemed impossible, yet if the mating gene was at play here… Perhaps it wasn’t so far-fetched, after all.
I watched as she walked to the next room. If only she felt the same way.
6
Maya
The last rays of daylight were filtering through the window when Dylan opened his eyes once again. He’d been sleeping off and on all day, recovering from the ordeal. His hair was still plastered to his forehead, and his movements were weak and tired, but there was a glow in his eyes. The fever hadn’t returned, and that gave me hope.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” I said, dragging my chair close to the bed. My muscles and joints ached from the effort, but I kept my own exhaustion hidden from him. I had remained awake the entire night and all through the day, unable to sleep despite the nice bed in the adjoining room. Even though my eyelids were as heavy as concrete, I simple couldn’t rest until I was sure Dylan would pull through. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he mumbled, slowly sitting up on the bed and kicking the sheets back. They were damp with sweat, even though they had been replaced three times during the course of our stay in the hospital.
“Hungry?” I asked him. Before he could reply, I reached for the warm container sitting on the nightstand. I had gotten a bowl of hot soup from the hospital cafeteria, hoping that I’d be able to get some food in him, and now here was my opportunity.
He didn’t exactly seem pleased with having soup for dinner, but he didn’t protest as I gently pushed the plastic spoon into his mouth. I managed to feed him half the soup before he finally pressed his lips into a thin line.
Pushing the bowl aside, I felt the temperature on his forehead with the back of my hand. His skin still felt warm to the touch, but not as much as it had been when we first arrived. His body seemed to be recovering, although I was still reticent about giving in to full-blown optimism.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, Dylan,” I said, trying to choose my words carefully, “but I’d like for you to tell me more about that voice. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Almost instantly, he looked away from me and started fidgeting with his hands. His lips remained pressed tightly together, and soon enough he started rubbing his arms in a feverish motion.
“Are you cold?” I reached for a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, hoping that it would offer him some comfort. It made me nervous that he didn’t want to talk, but I couldn’t press him. Not yet, at least. “It’s going to be okay, Dylan. You’ll see.”
I started rubbing my hands up and down his arms over the blanket, doing my best to warm him up, and only stopped when I heard a knock at the door. I turned in my chair, expecting to see one of the nurses walk in, but that’s not who I found there.
Standing in the doorway was a human woman, her brown hair spilling down her back. She wore an elegant gray dress, cinched at the waist with a black ribbon, and the muted tones of the fabric blended perfectly with her porcelain skin. She had a bag slung over one shoulder, and in her arms was a young boy. He shared the woman’s dark eyes and gentle smile, but his skin had the same golden hue of the Hollanders.
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” the woman said as I motioned her in. “My name’s Brittany. I’m Soren’s sister-in-law. Soren asked me to check up on you and bring you some food. I bet you’re missing homemade chicken soup.”
“Chicken soup?” I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t even remember what homemade chicken soup tasted like. “I haven’t had any in ages.”
“Then I hope I haven’t screwed up the recipe,” Brittany said, carefully depositing her bag on my lap. “It’s been a while since I’ve made some, but I think you’ll like it.”
“I bet I will.” I removed the soup container from inside the bag, and once I lifted the lid, I closed my eyes as the smells of home