Valerie

Chapter Nine

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"Is it worth the cost?"

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"Well, if there are problems on the border, handle it yourself. You're one of my better men, Lochridge. You have a lofty militia...." I laid still, half-awake, and half not. "You know I can't fly up there. I can give you some men but..." Was that Aeneas? Who was he talking to? "No, I'm needed here. Speak to my Beta, we'll have it handled." I guess the bed must've creaked with a small shift of my body because the call ended. "Valerie? Are you awake?"

I opened my eyes. "No."

He set his phone down on the nightstand and climbed into bed beside me. His hand brushed my cheek, something that was still as unwelcome as ever, but I wanted to build my good luck. I wanted to see my friend. "Hmm, you look awake." He turned my jaw. "You sound awake." I felt the soft press of his lips on my jaw. "You taste awake." He pressed another kiss to my jaw. "More than awake."

I curved to the side and moved my face away. "That call didn't sound good."

"It's of least concern."

"Dissent at a border? About your choice of mate?"

His eyes hardened. "Who told you that?"

"Private observation." His anger was oppressive. I frowned harder and harder before my hands flew to my neck. "I can't breathe. Please." His face softened. His strong emotion always felt like a strong hurricane wind. "No one told me."

"Don't feel threatened by useless rumors."

I nodded, partly because I was reluctant to try that force of nature aura again and partly because it wouldn't cost me anything to concede that point. But it was laughable that this was the reason he thought I felt threatened--not the nature of anything else that happened between us.

"Wear something comfortable. It'll be a long day."

Thirty minutes later, I was showered and wearing sweatpants--mine--and an overly large sweatshirt--his. And on his insistence too. "It's a good feeling to have you smelling like me."

I didn't answer. A breakfast tray sat on the nightstand and again I was faced with one of my biggest calendars to date. Rich, calorific foods. A steak, cut in half, showing too much pink inside, a sandwich with cheese, tomatoes, bacon, and eggs, and a tall glass of orange juice. "No," I said.

He snorted. "It's for me, not you." He moved to the left, revealing a large, sweltering smoothie. "This is yours."

"Just this?" He handed it to me and I sipped through the straw. It was sweet, denoting none of any of the essential food groups, save maybe fruit. I drank more. It was delicious. Before long, I'd reached the bottom of the glass. My stomach rumbled, and not from disgust, a rare first. "That wasn't bad."

"Want another one?"

I squeezed my fingers around the glass. "No." My stomach rumbled, a sharp hunger pang filling me. We both knew I was lying. My stomach had tasted sustenance just stable enough to keep it down and it wanted more. Even if it was in the form of whatever was in this smoothie. His eyebrows lifted. "No. I'm telling the truth."

"I'll get you another one."

Heat filled my face. "Thank you."

He came back in five minutes with another smoothie, this one a soft pink that had the sweetness of raspberries. I drank that one on the way to the car. It was better this way, I supposed. Either this or I'd end up like Hilla did in her first month--a feeding tube shoved down her throat.