Chapter 3

A small slit in my eyes provided blurred visibility anytime I tried to open them, but the pain the light caused was only a fraction of discomfort compared to the way my throat burned and the choking sensation that sent me into a panic when I floated in and out. The migraine was worse each time I dared come to, and there wasn't a single part of my body that didn't throb in pain. I prayed to God this wasn't real, that I wasn't lucid, and that this was a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

But it had to be reality-it paled in comparison to the beautifully vivid dreams that took me back under. The only part of that plague I didn't try to avoid when I managed to peek out of my slumber was the angel next to me, luring me back into unconsciousness with his songs-an acoustic melody that softly echoed off the walls around me. The guitar hummed a serene tune-one I desperately wanted to hold on to, hear forever, as though it could become a tangible part of my spirit.

I took note of the stark-white walls with limited visibility, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the constant rise and fall of the machine that breathed in time for me when I finally managed to drag myself into a semi-coherent state. I was alone, and for the first time since my parents had died, the solitude terrified me. The beep of the heart monitor increased its pace as my anxiety rose, and I didn't have the wherewithal to soothe myself. Unable to scream for help and lost with swollen eyes leaving me mostly blind to my surroundings, I couldn't find a button to call a nurse. Suddenly, a door flew open, and a massive form loomed before me, ominous, chest heaving. But before I could determine whether the figure was Death that had come to take me or something more sinister, a nurse raced in. Everything dimmed before it went dark, and the murmuring of voices tickled my ears as I drifted out.

No light filtered in through the windows and those overhead were extinguished. Only a tiny lamp above me glowed, casting shadows around the room. Although the hues had changed, the sounds were the same, and I was no longer alone. A bear of a hand clutched mine, but any attempt to turn my head to identify my companion sent shooting pains from behind my eyes, radiating through my brain and bouncing off the bone like blistering light. I whimpered through the suffering, knowing crying would be far worse. My pitiful sobs roused him, but I wasn't able to focus to identify who had assumed the bedside vigil.

"Shh, baby. Don't try to move. I'll get the nurse." He left with a light kiss on my forehead and a gentle squeeze of my fingers, and though he felt familiar, I wasn't able to place the voice.

As quickly as he'd left, he returned with a nurse in tow who checked the monitors and busied herself momentarily before she acknowledged me. I could see them both out of the corner of my eye, their movement around the room, blurred versions of human life but not their details.

"Ms. Pierce, you gave us quite a scare." She patted my shoulder softly. "Don't try to talk with the tube in your throat. I'll see what we can do to get that taken out soon. Are you in pain?"

I nodded feebly to attempt communication.

"Can you hold up your fingers to tell me-from one to ten-what is your level of pain?" Her tone was patient and warm and eased my anxiety a bit.

I held up eight fingers in answer to her question and pointed to my head to indicate what hurt most. Then six for my arm, which I realized was in a cast. I stopped myself from showing a number for the throbbing between my legs when the memories flooded my brain. Instead, I started to cry. Quiet tears streamed down my cheeks, dripping from my jaw and painfully landing on my shoulder like individual pin pricks that pooled around my collarbone. The sob that threatened to break free from my chest caused my ribs to ache, and my skull was going to explode at any given moment.

The mammoth of a man who'd hovered silently in the room now stood at the head of the bed-just out of my limited view-and reached in to wipe away the evidence of my turmoil. He caressed my cheek lovingly, and his touch soothed a piece of me that ached inside. Any attempt to turn my head only led to more discomfort, and my inability to focus left me frustrated and bereft. When the nurse moved, he came into view from above...just like the angel I'd believed had been with me since I'd woken in the ambulance. I desperately wanted to recognize him-to hold on to something familiar-when the voice I'd heard singing to me in my dreams softly whispered in my ear, "Don't cry, kitten. You're safe."

Dax Cooper.

Clinging to anything that verged on normal-and in need of security-I leaned into his voice. My cheek found the rough stubble of his overgrown beard, and for the briefest of moments, I nuzzled into his scent until the pain dragged me back to the softness of the pillows. His supple lips pressed against my forehead, and the instant I thought he was saying goodbye, I desperately tried to talk through the tube. Trepidation gripped my inability to speak or breathe on my own as machines forced life into me, and blindness stole another sense. He returned as quickly as he'd parted, and the strum of his guitar lulled me back to sleep within minutes.