The Ark

29.

Intense thumping brought me back to consciousness. I flinched, realising the pounding was coming from my own head and not the music of the club. My brain was raving to the speeding beat of my heart, each pulse more painful than the last.

The rattle of a soft snore came from beside me and my eyes popped open in surprise. I was in a bed. I could just about make out the outline of Delta asleep beside me. Grey, early morning light filtered in through the windows behind her, burning my overly sensitive retinas. I turned away, my stomach lurching in a way I was getting all too familiar with.

I was going to be sick.

I dashed to the bathroom as a rush of vomit climbed my throat—making it just in time. Luckily, there wasn't much in my stomach to actually puke up and a few moments later I was slumped against the welcome coolness of the tiled wall, feeling exhausted.

What the hell had happened last night?

My legs shook as I rose and tiptoed to the sink, my eyes half closed in pain as the relentless pounding in my head continued. I found a half bottle of mouthwash amongst the crowd of products on the sink and swilled it. The menthol just about blew my face off, but it was better than the taste of stomach acid and stale booze.

I splashed my face with cold water from the faucet, just about having a heart attack as I straightened to look in the mirror. Zaphron was behind me, leaning on the open door frame—shirtless.

"Morning," he said huskily, grinning at my startled reflection. His dark hair was sticking up in ways that seemed to defy gravity.

"Jesus Zaph, don't you know how to knock?" I wiped my hand down my face under the pretence of wiping off water, but it was mostly to get my eyes under control. I couldn't tear my gaze away from his torso. The entire left side was covered in ink. A forest of pine trees, matching those on his sleeve, climbed his ribs—surrounding a finely tattooed mountain on his chest. The detail was incredible—as life-like as a photograph. It was almost enough to distract from the toned body it was inked onto.

Almost.

Zaphron caught my wandering gaze, flaring an eyebrow. "I did knock, the door was open. I heard you puking and thought I'd check if you were okay."

I turned to face him, grimacing at the thought of him being present for yet another one of my bouts of nausea. "Was I slipped something last night?"

He nodded slowly, his mouth set in a grim line. "You passed out, then that fucking creep was there, offering to pay us if we handed you over." Zaphron's face screwed up as he cracked his knuckles. Angry red and purple bruising covered his right fist. "He must have put something in the drinks when he had me distracted at the bar. Lucky I didn't drink mine—Axel wasn't exactly in the right state to fend him off alone."

I shivered, wondering where I might have woken up if the creep had managed to drug us both. Would I have woken up at all?

As if induced by the thought, a second wave of nausea hit me and I sprang forward, diving for the toilet. Zaphron backed out the door quickly, giving me some space.