The Gender Lie(39)

I felt my face break into a smile against my own volition. Violet gave a little cry and launched herself at me. I flinched, but she pulled back short and then slowly slid her hands over my shoulders. I could feel the heat of them through the thin cotton hospital gown they had given me.

“Vi—” I said, my voice cracking.

She smiled, her eyes brimming with tears. She leaned close, bringing her forehead to mine. “Saved your life,” she breathed across my face.

A smile bloomed on my lips at her quip, and I reached for her head, sliding my palm against her soft cheek. “I missed you,” I whispered, dismissing the trembling in my arms.

She gave me a small, sweet smile, one that made my heart ache, and pressed her lips to the palm of my hand. “I missed you too,” she croaked.

I pulled her head closer and claimed her lips in a kiss. I had no idea how long I had been in this hospital bed. I didn’t know if I or my breath stank, and I didn’t even know if they had shaved me.

Yet none of that mattered as soon as my lips pressed to hers. I felt her soft surrender as she leaned into me, and I kissed her like she was the air I needed to breathe.

She gave a low moan, and I slid my tongue between her lips, caressing hers with my own. If I had died right there, it would have been worth it. To feel her fingers sliding through my hair, as if she couldn’t believe I was finally back in her arms.

I groaned, wanting to feel her more fully against me, remembering the scent of her skin from when she had first kissed me, but as I tugged at her, she resisted.

Slowly, tenderly, she broke the kiss, pressing smaller kisses against my lips, my jaw, and my cheeks, before resting her forehead against my own again.

“What happened?” I asked.

Violet settled a hip on the bed beside me. “Well, how much do you remember?” she asked.

I licked my lips, which had become parched yet again. Violet noticed, and immediately filled the empty cup that Dr. Tierney had left on the tray next to the bed. I reached for it, my hands shaking.

I felt Violet’s eyes as they drifted to my hands. She gently used her free hand to push them away, and then leaned forward, pressing the rim of the cup to my lips. I frowned, irritated that I was as weak as a newborn kitten. I considered turning away from the cup, but I refrained because my need to drink was overpowering, and it wasn’t Violet’s fault I was so weak. She was just trying to help me.

I took several long pulls from the cup, nearly draining it, and then leaned back in the pillow, considering her question.

“I… was shot,” I said slowly, untangling my hazy and confused recollection of what happened in the lab with the twin princesses.

Violet nodded, setting the cup back on the table with a hollow click. She peeled back the right side of my hospital gown over my shoulder, and I stared at the puckered, half-healed pink scar sitting just next to my shoulder socket, under the collarbone. An inch to the left, and it would’ve nicked an artery. Two inches, and it would have torn through my lungs.

Still… the wound was doing remarkably well, considering how long…

My thoughts faltered as I realized I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. Judging by the wound, much longer than I thought. I gave Violet a probing look as she pulled the fabric back up, covering the scar.

“Twenty-one days,” she said, guessing the question that must be running through my mind.

I let out a slow breath, my mind trying to comprehend. “I… I don’t understand,” I whispered. Her face was sympathetic as she reached out to take my hand. “How could a gunshot…”

“It wasn’t the gunshot, you idiot,” she admonished, a small smile playing on her lips. “It was the mega dose of adrenaline. You… you caused a tear in your heart.”

“Several,” chimed in Dr. Tierney from behind us.

Violet pushed a lock of hair out of her face, and gave an exaggerated eye roll that only I could see. I knew she was trying to be funny, but it wasn’t funny. I stared up at her, and the humor bled from her expression. Her gaze drifted down to the blanket.

“Sorry,” she said.

I frowned and took a deep breath, trying to sort through the tremulous emotions I was experiencing. “What happened exactly?” I asked after a few seconds.

“They had to put you into a medical coma, to keep your heart rate low. It prevented the muscles from giving out or tearing more, and bought us some time to fetch a surgical instrument we needed to repair the tears.”

My hand drifted up to touch my chest, as if reassuring myself that my heart was still beating, just inches under the skin and muscles. Violet’s hand came up and settled gently over mine. I gripped a few of her fingers tightly, meeting her eyes.