"We both know I'm totally one to say I told you so."
Still naked (damn straight, I kept him nude on purpose), Rafe stirred. Though heavy as the half-horse he was, my imbued strength allowed me to carry him from the floor to the bed.
I went on, even if he probably only caught some of my words: "Something is goddamn wrong with you."
Rafe groaned, rolling from side to side. "My head."
I grabbed a pillow and carefully tucked it under his head. "Are you okay?"
I always believed that to be a stupid question, but I asked it all the same. He didn't say much, just writhing in pain, which was a tad sexy, even in the state he was in.
I shook my head. "This is more than just sleep-walking."
"I'm okay," he wheezed.
His skin held a dull pigment, his hair sticking to his forehead in greasy strands.
"You're clearly not okay," I said, struggling to exude a calm demeanor.
I couldn't exactly take Rafe to the emergency room, and his tribe was too far away. Not gonna lie, my head spun a bit. I stared down at my ailing husband, feeling helpless for the first time in a long time.
"What happens when Ipontane are sick?" I murmered, more to myself than anything else.
Sick or not, my loving bastard heard me and replied, "Chosen one."
I bent closer to hear him better. "What was that, babe?"
But he was out and folded like a worn road map.
Chosen one. That had to have been what he said, but all I had in mind was the last episode of Buffy.
~*~
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Followed [Book 2- On Hold]
ParanormalImogen and Rafe have united to hunt Djiin together. Their mission pulls them across the globe, from Nicaragua, Canada, all the way back to their home in Florida. Rafe's possession resulted in strange after-effects that demand to be dealt with. Among...