Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2)

Were they out somewhere? Or maybe they were at the forge?

His shoes sounded obnoxious in the space, even though the boots Severin clomped around in were far louder.

“Minnow?” he called. “Sev?”

There was no one on the main floor, and he made his way upstairs, needing to change out of his suit before he could relax.

There was a small lump under the blankets in the bedroom, and wavy brown hair tumbling over the white pillowcase. Minnow? Why would she be in bed at two in the afternoon? The room smelled like vomit. An alien, irrational fear gripped him.

People got sick. A stomach bug, bad food...

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to make the mattress dip too much.

“Minnow? Preciosa, what’s wrong?” He laid his palm on her forehead. She wasn’t warm, but her skin was clammy to the touch.

Her eyelids opened a slit and she shrugged a shoulder under the mound of blankets. “I don’t know.”

“Did Severin call the doctor?”

“It’s nothing. I’m hardly throwing up anymore. Just tired.” She was pale, and he didn’t like it at all.

“Where’s Sev?”

“He took the dogs out this morning.” She tried to push herself up, but her arms shook and she sank back down. “I don’t know where he is now. He’s been hard to read since you left for Brussels.”

“No headache?”

“No, Sir.”

Protectiveness surged, too loud to be ignored. He opened the curtains and French doors to let in a fresh breeze from the balcony.

“How was your trip?” she asked. “Are you hungry? I’ll make you something.” She struggled up to a sitting position, and he wedged some pillows behind her back before urging her to lie back.

“You’re not getting out of bed until I say so, understood?”

“But you must be tired, let me get –”

“So help me, woman, don’t make me spank you when you’re not feeling well.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket and stripped out of his coat, dialing the doctor’s number as he rolled his sleeves.

“Don’t call the doctor,” she objected. “You don’t call a doctor every time you get a hangnail.” She was shaking.

“If it’s nothing, it’s nothing,” he said as soon as he got off the phone. An hour and the doctor would be there.

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been feeling off since before you left, but I didn’t feel this bad until a couple of days ago.” She gulped. “You shouldn’t be hanging around. I’m going to make you sick too.”

He ignored the compulsion to wring her pretty neck. Why hadn’t she sent a message to tell him she was sick? Sure, he’d been in meetings for the past few days, but he’d texted back and forth with her, and talked to her on the phone a couple of times.

“When did you eat last?”

“I had an apple.”

“When?”

She squinted at him. “What’s today?”

Rodrigo swore. He went to the kitchen and grabbed crackers and Gatorade, then forced her to start eating while he ran her a bath.