Dirty Princes (Hot Candy 3)

***

I blink, conscious of warmth seeping through the covers, into my aching bones. The lights are low, the monitors beeping quietly away.

There is a weight on my legs, on my hips.

Arms are draped over me. Two heads come up when I make a noise, trying to speak.

“Water,” she says, and he gets up, broad shoulders straining his blue sweater, pale eyes intent as he lifts a cup with a straw to my mouth.

“You’re awake,” he says, and smiles.

I’m so focused on the smile, so joyful, so wide, that I almost choke on the water.

“Easy,” he says. “That’s enough.” He takes the glass away.

“Ryan?” She gets up, too, and comes to sit by my head. “How do you feel?”

“Like a truck ran me over,” I rasp and wince at the sound of my cracked voice. “Repeatedly.”

“Don’t worry,” Riddick says. “We got the license plate down.”

I snort, and even that little motion jolts something in my chest, turning it into bright, hot pain. “Ow. Dammit.”

“Sorry, man.” He takes away the cup, frowning. “I didn’t think—”

“I’m okay.” Coming through gritted teeth, it doesn’t sound too convincing, but hey, I can’t do more.

He flashes me a quick smile and the weight on my chest lightens.

Brylee’s hand brushes over my forehead, strokes back my hair. I recognize her touch and her voice from my dreams. Her pretty eyes are sad.

“Hey, I really am fine,” I insist, and it comes out as a frog’s dying croak. “Bry…”

“You know us,” she says, choked up, and I stare at her in incomprehension. “Your eyes were open before, but you didn’t recognize us,” she explains. “You ran a high fever for two days. Worried the doctor. But you’re much better now.”

High fever could explain the weird dreams. Maybe it wasn’t all due to the drugs.

Something else is bothering me, though, and I can’t put my finger on it. It itches at the back of my mind worse than the IV needle stuck in my arm.

“You’re here.” Yeah, this is it. “Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to know, you weren’t supposed to…”

To care.

I swallow back the words, and it’s hard because there’s a lump in my throat. Maybe it’s my heart, trying to beat its way out my chest.

On cue, the monitor starts beeping louder.

“Shit. Call the doctor.” Brylee starts to get up, but I catch her hand and pull her back down. “We should call her.”

“I’m okay.”

“Don’t...” Her voice wobbles. “Don’t ever do that again.”

I blink, not sure what she means.

“Don’t ever hide from us that you’re sick again,” Riddick clarifies, pale eyes flashing in my direction.

Oh, that. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”