New Storm Rising

22. Fallen

Lights. Small lights, dancing in the darkness.

Oh look! Pretty fairies.

Headache-fairies, to be precise.

A groan came from somewhere. It took me a moment to realize it had issued from my own throat. The lights got larger. Hm...no fairies after all. Not that this realization made the splitting headache go away.

Slowly, my eyelids started rising, feeling heavier than a hundred whales.

I instantly recognized the room I was in. Mostly because I had been making mad, passionate love in it almost non-stop for the last week or so. And because right beside the king-sized double bed in which I lay, sat the man with whom I had made mad, passionate love.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

He wasn't working. Wasn't doing anything, really. He was just sitting there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the backrest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced up at the sky, visible through the window. From the position of the sun alone, it was pretty evident that he'd been sitting there for more than just five minutes. For quite a long while, in fact. And yet, he had stayed beside me all the while. He'd sat there, watching over me, until he'd fallen asleep.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose had slept during the day, for hours. Just so he could stay beside me.

Before I knew it, I had reached out and grasped his hand in mine. A moment later, I felt his fingers tighten around my own.

"So...you're finally awake." His voice was low and deep, sending a shiver down my spine. He spoke without really lifting his eyelids—and yet I knew he was looking at me. Intensely.

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I am."

In a blink, he was leaning over the bed. His eyes weren't closed now. They were wide open, wide awake, and cold as ice. Once more, his grip on my hand tightened.

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Don't. Ever. Do. Something. Like. That. Again."

I swallowed. Why did those eyes of his have to be so deep, and dark, and penetrating? "Do what?"

"Put yourself in danger." Leaning further down, he approached until his face was only inches away from mine. "You could have snapped your neck! You could have died!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound as if I jumped off the roof on purpose."

"You might as well have! Don't you dare ever do something like that again! Don't you ever sca—"

He abruptly broke off.

"What?" A corner of his mouth twitched in a genuine, warm smile. "Scare you like that again? My oh my. Who would have thought it? The mighty Mr Rikkard Ambrose, scared?"

"That," Mr Ambrose said in a tone icy enough to freeze lava, "is not the point. You nearly fell from the roof of a house!"

My smile widened. "Not my fault. I simply can't help falling for you."

"You...!" With an unbreakable grip, he grabbed hold of my shoulders. "Do not dare to make jokes about this! You nearly ended up in a coffin."

"Yes, but...why?" I frowned, trying to untangle my hazy memories. "All I can remember is suddenly feeling dizzy, and then...nothing. Why the heck would that happen?"

"Isn't it obvious?" There was a fierce look in his eyes, fierce, and protective.

I frowned. "Obvious? Why would it be obvious?"