Prey

Chapter 15

Xander's POV:

I thanked the slave as I took the tray I had ordered from him.

I didn't know exactly what would help but figured she could tell me what she wanted to eat after we go and see Nico.

So for now the best I could come up with was tea.

Some sort of lemon, honey peppermint thing.

Both iced and hot.

I knew she preferred her drinks iced, but the warm one might be better if her throat hurt.

Turning on my heels, and with my hands full, I kicked the door shut behind me.

Only realizing my mistake a second too late, and foolishly trying to skid my foot back to try to catch it before it shut.

Although all I succeeded in doing was kicking it again, faster.

Making it slam shut even harder.

I winced at the loud sound, that regret only deepening once I heard Doe finally jolt awake with a gasp.

Her eyes wildly searched the room as she gained her bearings, her head finally whipping towards the door with unprepared panic.

Her breaths came heavily through her mouth, the blanket that was over her now being clutched tight to her chest.

Layla always slammed the door when she came in.

And it didn't take a genius to pick up on certain things that unnerved Doe.

As much as she tried to hide it, moments like this... moments when I accidentally catch her off guard told me enough.

Her shoulders dropped soon after she realized what had happened, and that it was just me in here.

And in a quick attempt to lighten the mood, I sent her an awkward apologetic smile.

Her forehead met with her hand as she leaned forward, a small groan rising from her throat.

I just barely noticed the one arm that was holding her up was trembling, matching the new tremor in her breath

They stayed about as heavy as they did when she was asleep maybe a bit more so now.

"Sorry," I amended, beginning my walk of shame over to her.

Her hand drew down her face, eyes peering in a slight glare through her hair at me as I approached.

She carefully shifted as I did, pushing herself up into more of a sitting position.

I set the tray on the coffee table in front of where she was before sitting myself on the other side of the couch.

The hardness of her gaze stayed on me, switching quickly towards the drinks I presented her, before opening her mouth to speak.

Though her voice came out as nothing but hoarse, strained air.

Almost immediately, her eyes squeezed shut in a wince as her hand reached up to her throat.

It matched almost perfectly with the hand mark staining her skin.

I felt my brows pinch together as her sudden action caused the blanket to fall from her shoulders.

Oh god.

Could she have bruised her vocal cord?

I guess given the location... it was entirely possible.

Her eyes opened, a tinge of worry building on her face as she looked back at me.