Not My Alpha (Completed)

Chapter Thirty - I'm Not So Dense

"She's having another panic attack," Samuel started, moving to the side as he spoke. 

Only when he moved was I immediately engulfed in what seemed to be an endless number of people. A light was shone into my eyes the same moment my legs and arms were gripped by numerous hands. I quickly realized I was thrashing wildly, my arms and legs striking at whatever they could make contact with. I told my limbs to stop. I told myself to calm down. I told my lungs to breathe. But, my head was spinning, nothing was making sense, and I still couldn't get any air. 

Eventually, things started to slow down. The nurses and doctors blurred. A sensation was slowly overtaking my senses, dragging me far away from the hospital bed. The blonde woman's face was suddenly over mine, and she was speaking softly. Though I couldn't make out the words, her voice sang a soft lullaby. The sound overcame and filled my thoughts. In the next moment, I could only see darkness. 

*****

My eyes fluttered open suddenly. There was no gradual ease back into reality, rather it hit me like a freight train. I was still in the hospital, still in the same room. Nothing had changed from when they'd put me under, not even Samuel sitting in his chair. He was sleeping, like the last time I awoke, and it almost felt as if nothing had happened. I could almost pretend Samuel and I never had a conversation. 

Almost. 

The memories moved slow as molasses, but they were there. They just weren't making sense. Then again, the only thing I could really focus on was my throat. It was burning, begging for liquid. I noticed the water on the table beside me and reached out to it instantly. When my hand lifted up though, it met resistance. My eyes groggily traveled down my arm to stare at my wrist. It was loosely tied to the side of my bed with a soft fabric. When I attempted lifting my other arm, I found the same thing. I groaned loudly and gradually lifted myself up to a sitting position, staring confusedly at the two pieces of material binding me to the bed.

Abruptly, I heard movement from across the room. By the time I lifted my head up, Samuel was beside me, eyeing me cautiously. I stared blankly back at him, my eyelids heavy and refusing to cooperate. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words would come out. Though this would normally bother me, I couldn't find it in me to care. The only thing I wanted was water. 

Suddenly, I felt his hand on my arm. It was strange, almost comforting, feeling his flesh so delicately resting upon my own. His hand was light and gentle, only resting there to give me reassurance. My eyebrows furrowed at the sensation and I tried to sort through the reasons why I hated Samuel.

"Samantha," he softly cooed. The hand lingering on my arm was brought up to my cheek. Unconsciously, I leaned into it. "Samantha, how do you feel?"

Though I didn't move my head from his hand, my eyes glanced to the side where I'd seen the water. Samuel understood immediately and brought the cup to my lips, tilting it ever so slightly. The cool liquid fell into my mouth and ran down my throat, reviving me slightly. 

He placed the cup back on the table and sat next to me while pressing a button on my bed. After a few moments and creaking noises, I felt the support of my mattress behind me, allowing me to lean back. I quickly did so, adjusting my weight so I was comfortable. When I was settled, Samuel rested his hand on my thigh. Blankets and my hospital gown separated his flesh from mine, and I was suddenly wishing he'd hold my cheek once more. The thought was unsettling and I quickly pushed it aside as exhaustion.

"How are you feeling?" He softly asked. His frame was relaxed, along with his features. Dark eyes searched my own. 

My thoughts were barely starting to become coherent. It took what felt like hours to comprehend his question, then another day to finally speak. When I did eventually respond, my tone was laced with confusion.