West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi) Read Free Page B

lips. “Your wife , Chloris,” he sneered, voice dark and satisfied. Then he was gone.
    The words cut through the air and crashed into Zeph so hard he couldn’t breathe.

CHAPTER THREE
    Words disconnected from meaning. Sounds out of context. Numb-ness like floating. And always the darkness.
    Sometimes she surfaced. Nauseating light played behind eyelids she couldn’t force open. Shooting pain accompanied the smallest shift in her position. A world-spinning ache throbbed beneath her face and ear. An odd, distant keening sounded in those moments, bringing a rush of relief through her veins that would pull her under into merciful oblivion once more.
    Consciousness returned in the quiet of night. Ella blinked her dry, crusty eyes again and again. The dim room took shape before her. Sage-green walls. A mounted television. A movable tray. Gentle, rhythmic beeps entered her consciousness. Rolling her head just a little, she found the source of the sound. Monitors and medicine drips on metal stands lined the side of her bed. A hospital, then.
    She opened her mouth, but knew instinctively she wouldn’t be able to talk. Her tongue lay thick and unused. Her lips burned with dryness. She tried to lick them.
    “Here. Take a sip.”
    Her gaze tracked the new sound, setting off a wave of dizziness. Her lips found the straw first, held right where she could reach it. She sucked the life-giving water into her mouth. It was the best thing she had ever tasted. She could’ve cried.
    “Welcome back,” the deep voice said.
    Ella had almost forgotten someone was there. She released the straw and with effort made herself look up.
    The nurse stood next to the side of her bed. She blinked and squinted. Focus slowly returned. He towered above her. His hair was short and dark, unruly curls just at the ends. Close-trimmed facial hair set off an angled jaw and lips pressed in a concerned line.
    “More?”
    She frowned. The straw stroked her bottom lip. She opened, eagerly drank more of the water. Her throat rejoiced.
    “Thank you,” she mouthed, no sound emerging.
    “Don’t try to speak. Just rest. And be well.”
    She sighed. And slipped into nothingness.
    In the early morning gloom, she awoke again. A man, all broad shoulders, stared out through the slats in the blinds. Green scrubs. Her nurse again?
    “Water,” she croaked.
    He was at her side so fast, she must’ve blinked. A couple of times. She hadn’t seen him move.
    This time when she offered her thanks, she could manage a rasping whisper.
    His lips curved up, the smallest bit. “You’re welcome.” Intense slate-blue eyes stared down at her. “How are you feeling?”
    “Dunno,” she murmured, licking her lips. “What happened?”
    His brow furrowed. “You don’t remember?”
    She closed her eyes and concentrated. A lump formed in her throat and swelled. “Marcus.” Flashing images of a ferocious storm joined the memory of her brother. “Dead.” She swallowed hard, the sound thick and tortured in her own ears.
    “He died?”
    Something in his voice begged her attention. She blinked up at him. He’d gone totally still next to her, his expression grave and alarmed. Ella frowned. “Yeah.”
    “When this happened to you?”
    She opened and closed her mouth. The hair on her arms raised, the air taking on a warm, electrical quality. Obviously, some good drugs dripped into her veins. Still, his intensity did seem weird. Why was he so upset?
    He grasped her hand. “Ella, did he die when this happened to you?”
    Her gaze fell to his engulfing grip on her fingers. So warm. Her skin tingled where they touched.
    The big man leaned across the path of her vision to capture her attention. “Gods, woman, answer me.”
    Her head swam. From the effort of remembering the question. From exhaustion. From the roiling power behind his piercing blue eyes. She shook her head once. “No, not then.”
    His whole body sagged. The air in the room cooled and calmed. He stood up and turned