Cruel Lover

“Malta, where’s your medication? Come on, stay with me, baby.” My heart is racing, I can barely think. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, we’ll help your dad. I’ll help him. I promise.”

“I…” Her lips remain parted for a moment, sweat pouring from her face.

But before she can say another word, her limbs go limp and she passes out.

Chapter Three

Malta

Everything is soft. And black. I feel weightless, barely aware of my arms or legs as sounds start to come back to me.

“Something isn’t right. I’m taking her to the hospital.”

Whose voice is that?

It’s familiar.

Odysseus Volos. Ody. That’s right, he was there, wasn’t he? Only it wasn’t him, not the version of him I remember anyway. It was the Ody I wanted him to be. The boy who warned others off when they were picking on me, who stunned me into silence by asking me out. Nobody had ever asked me out. Nobody thought I was worth it. But he did. Then after our first date he changed, into the cruel boy who joined in with the taunting. The Ody last night was the dream Ody.

Or Oz…

They called him Oz. It suits him. He was just like every fantasy that ever played out in my head, every image I saw while I lay in bed at college, my hand moving between my legs, gently bringing myself to orgasm with his name on my lips. Perhaps this was just another fantasy? Or was it just a dream?

It would seem more like a nightmare if it wasn’t for him being there.

“She’s stable, Mr. Volos.” A kind, deep older man’s voice. Reassuring. “She’ll be fine, she just needs rest.”

I’m awake, I try to say, but the words only echo in my head.

“You’re sure?”

“I think she’s coming round now. Just a normal hypo. Frightening, of course, but no serious harm done. Can we get the dog out of here? I don’t think it’s—”

A low growl.

“She’s protective of the things that are important. You won’t move her, doc.”

With an effort, I manage to force my eyes open, just a sliver, then quickly squeeze them closed again when my head starts to swim. In an instant, I feel a large, strong hand gripping mine.

“Hey, angel.”

The smile takes over my lips, and I swallow back the dryness in my throat, my words coming out hoarse. “I can’t believe you still call me that.”

I feel my hand raised, soft lips pressed against my fingers. “Well that’s what you are. Perfection on earth. I should have told you every day since I met you.”

“Where…where am I?”

“I brought you back to my place. You’re in my bed.”

Finally, I open my eyes and keep them open. The world is blurry, out of focus, but it really is him, crouching beside me. Here, in the flesh. Which means it was all real…

“My father,” I whisper.

“He’s safe. I had him moved to my family’s private ward. It’s guarded. He’s still out of it but the doctors are doing all they can.”

“I should go to him.”

“No, you absolutely should not, young lady.” A man with a thick gray beard comes blurrily into view behind Oz, looking stern but kind. “You need to rest. You’re no good to anyone without some proper recuperation. I’d recommend no strenuous activity for the next twenty-four hours.”

I shake my head, feeling it throb with the movement. “I’ve had diabetes all my life. I’ve had hypos before. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, listen to the doctor, baby. He knows what he’s talking about.” Oz turns away, but doesn’t release my hand. “Thanks, doc. I’ll take it from here.”

“Make sure you do. She stays here, you sleep on the couch.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, Mr. Volos. Doctor’s orders.”

“Understood.”

I smile at the exchange of words. Oz is a powerhouse of assured strength. His jaw, covered in scratchy, coarse stubble trimmed neatly under his chin and across his cheeks, looks like it could slice through butter. But here, he’s the one taking orders, willing to do that for me. To keep me safe.

“Thanks, doc, I’ll make sure there’s a generous bonus in your next paycheck.”

“I’ll see myself out,” the doctor says, then he nods my way, picks up a bag from the floor and pulls open the huge door to the bedroom, his feet silent in here but tip-tapping as soon as he’s out in the hall.

“Oz,” I say out loud, trying the name on my lips for the first time and liking the way it feels. “When did the Ody Volos I knew become Oz?”

He laughs. “We’ve got some catching up to do, haven’t we? But first, I’m making you something to eat. Ever had pastitsio?”

“No. What is it?”

“You’ll see,” he says with a wink. “Come on, Rox.”

I turn my head to where he’s looking, and find the enormous wolf lying stretched along the other side of the bed, tongue lolling as she watches me with interest through mismatched eyes: one blue and one gold. A little laugh escapes my lips, but the movement makes my head swim and I draw a sharp breath.