His Resolution – Kisses at Midnight

“You okay, baby?”

She swallows, then tries to bring a hand to my face, misses and breaks into a laugh, her eyes closing as she drags her hand down her face, flinging it across the open side of the bed. A second later, she’s passed out, saliva already dripping from the corner of her mouth.

Something is wrong. I feel it down into my marrow. This isn’t just post-orgasm exhaustion. She went from completely alert to slack and drooling, her skin clammy and her eyes not just closed but rolled back into her head.

“Fuck, what is going on?” Panic grips me as I cover her chilled body, shoving my legs into my pants and getting my erection covered up before barreling out of the bedroom door. “Hey!” I shout into the open cabin.

“Sir?” Theresa, an attendant that’s been with me for years, comes out from the galley.

“Watch her, watch her breathing. I need to find her purse…”

Concern darkens her eyes and she moves to the open bedroom door as I rush to where Doralee’s purse sits on one of the open seats. I dump it out, tearing through the contents and unzipping a small red satin bag. Inside, what I see has me cold.

I dump out the six pill bottles as well as two other prescription boxes of medication. There’s a folded piece of paper that comes out with the contents and when I unfold it I go numb.

It’s a handwritten list of all the medications and instructions on dosage and frequency. At the bottom of the list, in red, it reads:

AS YOU BOARD YOUR FLIGHT: Take two blue capsules.

I shuffle through the medications until I find the blue pills prescribed by Melany Jorganson, then read the tiny writing on the box label: Take One Half a capsule as needed, for pain relief.

Pain relief? She didn’t appear to be in any pain, and the sheet of paper had her taking four times the dosage for an adult—and for all intents and purposes Doralee is more the size of a child.

If that’s what happened, there’s no way we are flying all the way to Paris. And either Melany Jorganson is a criminal, or she’s a fucking idiot. Either way, there’s no way she’s going to have access to my precious heaven ever again.

I grab my phone and run back to the bedroom, where Theresa is sitting next to Doralee.

“She’s breathing slowly, but evenly. What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m going to find out. And someone is going to pay.”

I dial my personal physician, go over what’s going on, and finally hang up, anger and relief flooding through me as I press my lips to her ear.

“I’m here, sweet Songbird. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go.” I reach over to the phone on the nightstand next to the bed and hit the button for the cockpit. “Call in an emergency flight diversion.”

Chapter Eight

Doralee

I’M SUFFOCATING.

There’s no air.

The scream catches in my throat and I tear at the dark shadow that is smothering me with something invisible.

Terror clutches around me. I’m going to die here.

Here, in this black hole. The walls crushing me as I fall down, farther and farther into the darkness, my hands flying outward, clutching… Gripping… Trying to find anything to hold onto, but finding nothing.

I kick at the ropes around my ankles, trying to set myself free to halt my treacherous descent.

A scream tears from my throat as I flail with the last of my life, trying to find something, anything, to grab onto…

“Baby.”

A deep voice echoes from far away as I batter against the demon pressing what feels like a black pillow over my face. I’m burning up, my fight is fading.

“Baby, you’re okay.”

I hear it closer this time. The voice is not the demon.

No. I recognize it.

I scream again, pounding on whatever is close, trying to break out of this desperate fear.

“I’m right here, baby. Nothing can hurt you. Wake up. Look at me.”

Arms close around me and I’m weightless, rising out of the darkness. There’s cold. It’s on my face and then a voice in my ear.

“Wake up. It’s just a dream, I’m right here.”

My eyes snap open. I’m panting, wildly looking around the dimly lit room, then I see his face.

“Damon…”

“Yes. I’m here. You’re having a nightmare.”

“Are we in Paris?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not Paris. On the plane…you took too much of the medication. I had the flight diverted. You’ve been asleep for almost fifteen hours. My doctor has been monitoring you. You’ll be okay, but you’ve been having nightmares.”

I try to take it all in. It’s warm and I swear in the dark night outside the open window I hear waves. The air is salty, sweet, and there’s a comfort here even as the haze that is around everything starts to lift.