Chapter 225 - Sleep Sweet

~ ZEV ~

Fucking Skhal tricked him. The leaves his advisor had given him to chew didn't just lower fever, they made him sleep. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. He spat the leaves out, but could feel himself being sucked under the blanket of sleep.

What the fuck had the male been thinking? Zev needed to be aware and awake, able to help Sasha after he got to the village and they treated his wound.

He railed against the deceit and tried to roll over, to keep himself awake. But the pain was a hot poker in his side and when he shifted back onto his side to breathe it out, everything faded…

The pain was intense, but even though he was aware of it, he was also separated from it. Deep the dark of sleep he fluttered in and out, aware of voices, hands moving his body, curses, and that pain. He wanted to ask whether Sasha was safe, why she wasn't there. But he couldn't make his lips move. And the pain… the pain threatened if he came too close to the surface.

Then the pain took on a rhythm, his body rolling, jolted, hissed voices…

… A stabbing poker, white-hot from the Smith's fire dug under his ribs and he screamed.

He could smell his mate and tried to warn her—someone was trying to kill him! But then the pain eased and he heard her voice… she was close. But so was his brother, and Zev growled a warning. Too many males. Too many close to her…

…The world was quiet and still dark. His side still burned hot enough that he wanted to retreat from it. But he couldn't move.

Then a cool hand brushed his brow and soft lips touched his cheek.

Sasha.

He tried to reach for her, but his limbs refused to move. He inhaled deeply, taking her scent. Not so many bodies nearby now, but that didn't mean she was safe. He needed to wake.

Then her fingers slid into his palm and she whispered his name.

Sleep, she said. Just sleep.

And even though he didn't want to—fought to swim to the surface despite the pain—he was pulled down again.

Down.

Down.

Down…

*****

~ SASHA ~

It had been terrifying to see them carry him in unconscious. But Kyelle had immediately reassured her that Skhal had given him something to make him sleep so they could transport him without pain.

Then, while he still slept, healers had treated the wound—an abscess under the skin. The healers said it happened at times that the Chimera's superior healing locked in germs. They'd had to cut him open again to clear it, and he'd fought, growling and snarling, his entire body rigid.

It had taken five males to keep him on the bed.

Sasha had wept.

But he'd rested so much better when they were done. And now… it was past evening. The village was quiet, only the pathlights on. One healer in a chair next to the fireplace behind her, another in the next room, sleeping. The two would take turns, they said, just to make sure there was always someone there could who respond quickly.

But he would be well, they insisted. He'd heal now, and quickly.

Sasha hoped so.

Sasha sat in a chair next to Zev's bed, bent over him. Slumped on him, if she was honest with herself. She'd meant to just rest, to be close when he stirred—he kept squirming, his voice rough and angry, but barely more than a whisper. She wanted to calm him.

She'd placed her hand in his, her cheek on his shoulder and whispered to him to rest, that things would get better now.

But she'd barely had time to think about the fact that she hadn't shown up for the meeting with the wolves before she'd drifted off herself, his hand still in hers.

She woke to the healer putting a blanket over her shoulders. She startled and sat up quickly, sucking in a breath, opening her mouth to apologize. But Zev's voice echoed in her head.

Never apologize for being Alpha. They'll see it as weakness.

So she swallowed those words and put a hand to Zev's forehead instead.

"He's doing well. The fever is almost gone now that we've removed the infection."

Sasha blanched, her relief that Zev was improving already tempered by the shuddering memory of that swollen, putrid wound. That had been… ugly.

"That's a relief," she whispered. "Thank you for your help."

The healer shrugged. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Sasha blinked. What time was it? "I… I need to get a message to Lhars. Where is he?" she asked, still bleary-eyed, completely unaware if it was ten or two, only that the night was dark black beyond the windows outside.

"He's right outside," the healer said. "Guarding the door to keep Zev safe."

Sasha looked at the man sharply. Was Lhars pretending to protect Zev? Would he make her appear weak?

"Would you like me to get him?" the healer asked carefully.

Sasha frowned. Did she want to see Lhars? She definitely wanted to make sure he wasn't sabotaging her. "No, no, it's fine," she said carefully.

Then, as the healer retreated to his chair next to the fire, she looked down at Zev. He was sleeping peacefully, his face relaxed, his finger slack in hers.

Sliding her hand out of his, she stood and watched. Zev didn't move. His chest rising and falling. When she took one step back, he still didn't stir. She nodded. He would be fine. He wouldn't even know she was gone. And she'd only be right outside the door.

She turned to the healer. "I'm going to talk to Lhars. If he wakes, get me immediately."

The healer ducked his chin once, eyes down in submission.

Sasha still felt uncomfortable whenever they did that, but she couldn't deny that she was getting a lot of things done by not having to argue about them.

Then, pulling the blanket up around her neck and wrapping it around her arms like a shawl, she walked quickly to the door and opened it to find Lhars seated on the steps outside, his head in his hands.

He looked up as she walked out, his eyes dark and tormented.