Ronan

Chapter Thirty-Five

She'd been hoping Ronan would give her the tour of the villa in Proelii. In the end, she'd had to give it to herself. She'd ransacked the kitchen and bathroom for a first aid kit. She'd emptied the utility room upside down looking for spare towels. And now, knowing the villa inside out, she sat with her head slumped in her hands praying for escape.

It'd been days since they'd first come here.

Days since they'd seen Fallon in Triumph.

Days since she'd dragged him back to this place on death's door.

"Rosie."

Her shoulders stiffened.

His voice.

Her name.

She was getting sick of lifting her head to check. Unable to sleep, she'd started hearing things, imagining him waking up and calling to her.

Had her name not been called again, she wouldn't have bothered looking.

But there he was, blue eyes open and tired looking directly at her.

Her heart stuttered.

"Ronan?" He was breathing. Smiling. Seeing. Talking. "Oh Gods, you're alive." She held herself back from flinging herself onto him, fisting his blankets instead. "You had me scared shitless you stupid, stupid idiot." She'd thought he was going to die. Ronan-the invincible warlock-dead. "Are you alright? Are you in pain? Does it hurt? Can I help? Tell me what to do? How can I make you better?"

He groaned, dropping his head back onto his pillow. "Take a breath."

"Take a breath. Right, just breathe. Just breathe." He smiled when she met his eyes again. A pained smile. Because he was in pain. "Gods, I just—you're alive. I didn't think you were going to wake up. And it'd be my fault. You'd die and it'd be my fault."

She'd run it over and over in her mind since getting here.

She'd stabbed Ronan. She could've killed him.

"Not your fault."

"I stabbed you!"

"I got in the way."

"But I held the blade."

"You did it because of my actions." He reached for her hand, squeezing it. "All's good baby. Relax."

How could he say that? Wasn't he mad? She'd literally stabbed him with a hellfire blade. A hellfire blade.

"Relax? You want me to relax after I nearly shocking killed you and—"

"Breathe, Rosie. I'm okay."

"You're okay."

"I'm okay."

She forced herself back into her chair. Just breathe. He was right. He was here, alive.

I don't think I can live without him.

"I hate you so much. So, so much."

"I know baby." He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her pulse point.  "I know."

"Gods, I didn't think you were going to wake up. I started writing you a eulogy. Planned the funeral catering."

"Breathe baby, breathe."

"How can you say that? You're the one who should be breathing. You nearly died."

And yet here was, laying down all cool and calm as she lost her ever loving shit.

"You nearly murdered me," He pointed out.

She huffed, unimpressed. "What happened to it not being my fault?"