Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(155)

Sirens sliced the morning peace. A flashing ambulance pulled into the driveway, its lights visible through the windows. Kissing Q's cheek, I whispered, "No apologises. I did what I needed to do." I nuzzled his cheek. "Your chariot awaits, maître. And your bride will be with you every step until she becomes your wife."

Q's body stiffened, fighting off a wave of pain. "And once you're my wife-you intend to leave my side?"



       
         
       
        

My heart was no longer a heart-it became a beacon, beaming with brightness, lighting the way to my future. "When I'm your wife, our lives will become one. I won't be by your side. I'll be inside you. Forever."

Q sucked in a breath, his eyes glowing with love. "In that case-get me to the hospital."





You are my saviour

My forever



The hospital was a necessary evil.

As much as I wanted to leave Spain and never return, I had to endure needles, questions, and doctors.

Hours upon hours of tests, MRIs, and stitching up the slices on my legs frayed my patience, giving time the opportunity to turn my injuries into bone-deep aches. My head pounded from hanging upside down and everything inside was bruised-my kidneys, my stomach-even my spleen. My heart was also banged up, but surprisingly fine-despite the rigorous assault it'd endured. My spine was swollen from the baseball bat, but I had sensation in my legs. Thank fucking God. And the bullet hole was no longer a hole after surgery sewed me up.

The catalogue of injuries went on forever but after everything I'd endured the only broken part of me was a cracked rib. That and my heart. Tess had done something irreversible down there. I'd hung unconscious while she did something I would never be able to delete.

Twisting my head on the pillow, I looked at her.

She hadn't moved from my side. She'd been there while the doctors numbed my legs and practiced fucking cross-stitch with my flesh. She'd held my hand while we waited for the results of my heart and blood pressure readings. She screamed at any doctor who tried to remove her from a procedure.

I fucking loved her. I couldn't stop looking at her-knowing she'd killed for me. She'd willingly crossed that threshold where no human should have to go. She took a life in payment for mine. She truly was my perfect other.

Tess glowed, a smile spreading her lips. "Do you need anything? Something to eat? Water?"

I couldn't stop the involuntary shudder at the mention of fucking water. Vile liquid. Killing liquid. I never wanted another sip or to see a bucket or towel again. That had been the worst part. I didn't care about the baseball bat or even the cuts on my legs. It was the black wetness that turned my stomach.

It was the breathless horror whenever my mind relived the past. I'd died. I'd given up. And that made me fucking weak. While I'd given up, Tess had become my saviour.

It made me proud. It also made me furious. Hospital staff looked at me as if I were a fucking invalid-compounding the emotions I battled. How could I ever thank Tess for what she did? How could I ever live with myself for being so fucking stupid? 

Police had arrived to take my statement and for once I could tell the truth-the whole truth and not fear any repercussions. They'd left us in peace after the main activities and needlepoint on my legs.

Finally, after what seemed like days, I'd finally been left alone in a private room. Finally able to breathe without disinfectant or antiseptic stinging my nostrils. The grogginess from the anaesthesia wore off, leaving me stiff and sore.

My nervous system had a hard time tabulating it all. One moment an ache flared in my chest, the next my lower back. But despite the flushes of agony, I felt fine. I felt whole. I felt content.

I survived.

Tess squeezed my hand, bringing my scattered thoughts back to her. "Q-would you like a drink?"

I smiled, soaking in her perfect face. "I would murder for a shot of whiskey." My voice cracked and failed. According to the doctor, my throat suffered multiple lacerations from either screaming or trying to breathe H2O instead of oxygen.

The fucking bastard really hurt me. But I was alive, and he was not. All because I had people behind me. I had goodness on my side. I had my esclave. My fearless strong esclave.

"You're not drinking." Her forehead wrinkled. "Who knows what you'll get up to if you have alcohol on top of the painkillers they've administered."

I chuckled. "I can think of a few things." I wanted to try out my cock-make sure it hadn't died in sheer terror at the threat of being cut off. I didn't know how close Lynx came to delivering his final threat. All I remembered was endless water torture, more cuts, more electricity, and welcoming darkness.