The Love Risk [boyxboy]

Chapter Twenty-Two

"If you're trying to make me feel bad, it's not working."

"A really pretty, expensive one."

"Still not working."

"Pretty please?" Vladimir tried again. I blushed even more as he approached me again, smiling charmingly. I felt my heart leap into my throat as a couple dirty thoughts crossed my mind, making me shiver. Vladimir reached up to brush my hair back, his face leaning towards mine when someone knocked on the room door.

Vladimir hesitated, then sighed and bumped his forehead against mine before kissing me quickly on the nose. I watched him head to the door, greeting Storm, who told us the taxi was here to pick us up. I followed him out, meeting up with Mark, who looked way better now.

Decked out in blue jeans and a graphic t-shirt that hugged his figure well under a loose black sweatshirt, he seemed relieved to be clean and fresh now. He stuck extremely close to Storm, which he did in the first place, but now he looked like he'd freak if he wasn't.

We got into the elevator together, letting it carry us down to the first floor where Vladimir was once again met by the staff. They seemed more worried about us than the fact that we trashed their hotel. We finally got past them and went out to the taxi.

Kristophe was resting in his hotel room still, alone with Claude. I really didn't want to leave them alone together, but Storm promised me it was okay. Something had happened to them, something big. At least, it had to take something big to make Claude do a complete 180.

He fussed so much over Kristophe in the SUV. He was holding onto him and cleaning him up the best he could. He kept saying something under his breath, but I couldn't hear it. It must've been nice, though, because Kristophe actually surprised me by smiling at him.

I wondered what happened, but I wasn't going to press. Whatever it was, it made Claude way more mature and Kristophe forgave him. At least, I think he did.

I made a mental note to check on them first thing after we got back from the hospital.

Speaking of the hospital, it quickly came into view as the taxi pulled up into the parking lot and we got out. Vladimir led the way inside, speaking fluent Italian in a way that made me admire him. I'd been to this country twice and still hadn't worked too hard on learning the language. I had only learned basics, but not enough for a full conversation.

The nurse seemed hesitant, which only made my gut clench. I shared worried looks with Mark, who was nibbling his lower lip. We followed the nurse down the hallways and up the elevators to the next floor.

We approached Slade's room and as soon as we did, I smelled it. I grimaced, pursing my lips because I didn't trust myself to react calmly.

Slade was lying on his hospital bed, his pale blonde hair dyed a strange array of orange splayed out on the pillow. His skin was a deathly pale, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He couldn't even move, just tilted his head very slightly to the side to see us.

Zander was sitting beside the bed, then stood up when we came in. He looked awful. His eyes were red and puffy and he looked like he hadn't bathed. His clothes were rumpled and ruined.

The nurse left us and we stood silently, watching Slade struggle to breath. No one knew what to say. The smell of death hung heavy in the air and made me sick to my stomach before I forced myself to ask the question we all wanted to ask.

"How much... time?" I managed. Zander looked stricken, reaching up to ruffle his hair as he plucked his glasses off to wipe one of his eyes with the back of his wrist before he put them back on.