Page 40 of Wreaking Havoc
“Thank you, Papa.” Sascha looked to Sergei. He was holding something that looked almost like a big gardening tool. It was covered in red. “Thank—thank you, Sergei.”
It was time to go back upstairs. But Sascha’s feet wouldn’t move. And his eyes kept returning to the man in the chair.
The man noticed him looking. His cries quieted. He opened his mouth, spitting out a large glob of blood.
And then the begging started.
And now Saschawas sick again.
It was the worst. Sickness always was. He always had to do it alone. Papa never let Sascha’s nannies stay the night, even when he didn’t feel good. And Alexei would be punished for coddling if he tried to sneak into Sascha’s room.
But clearly this nanny must have disobeyed orders, because there was a cool, wet washcloth running across Sascha’s forehead.
It felt like heaven.
He moaned weakly, the sound barely escaping his tortured throat. “Feels good,” he mumbled.
“You’re awake?”
Dang. This nanny had a deep voice. And they smelled like smoke and spice.
Sascha forced his lids open to find piercing blue eyes staring back at him. Right. He wasn’t a child. There was no nanny.
Just him and his demon.
Kai was on the bed next to him in his demon form, his feet hanging off the end in order to fit, a small washcloth dwarfed by his large, clawed hand. His brows were furrowed, and his face looked pale, which Sascha hadn’t been aware his blue skin tone was capable of.
Apparently Kai didn’t find the twenty-four-hour flu very appealing.
Sascha frowned up at him. “I feel like crap.” The words came out sulky, but Sascha was too weak to correct it.
“You told me you were dying,” Kai said, his gaze weirdly intense, even for him.
Sascha attempted a laugh, but the sound quickly dissolved into a hacking cough. “Did I?” he managed once the fit stopped. “Sorry, I’m a drama queen when I’m sick.”
Kai didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. He just silently handed Sascha a glass of water.
Sascha licked dry lips and then chugged the whole thing down. The cool liquid did wonders for his throat.
He gave the glass back to an eerily quiet Kai. “Did I say something stupid when I was out?” Sascha asked. “How longhaveI been out?” Had Kai put him to bed at some point? Sascha could have sworn he was on the couch before.
He mustered up the strength to reach for his phone from the bedside table, but the screen was black, even after he tried to power it on. Dead. He waved a hand at Kai. “Give me that cord, will you?”
He plugged his phone into the charger and set it aside.
Kai was still staring hard enough to bore holes into his skull. “It’s been a full night and day since you lost consciousness.”
Sascha sat up, categorizing his aches and pains. His throat wasn’t too bad now that he’d had some fluids. His limbs were feeling kind of weak, but that was probably just from dehydration. Same with his head full of fuzzy cotton. All in all, it could have been worse. “I didn’t lose consciousness. I fell asleep.”
“You would not wake,” Kai insisted.
“I think I had a pretty bad fever.” That would explain the weird dreams and Sascha thinking for that brief moment he was a child again.
Kai gave one decisive nod. “You clung to me, shivering, and then pushed me away, sweating. You wouldn’t wake,” he repeated.
Damn. His intensity sure wasn’t lightening any. Sascha looked around hopefully for another water glass, pouting a bit when his search came up empty. “If you were so worried about me, why didn’t you take me to the hospital?”
Kai let out a growl. “I’ve seen what human healers do. They would only speed your death.”
