Fifth a Fury (Goddess Isles 5)

Sully.

Oh, God.

The memory.

The awful, awful reality.

Dead.

Gone.

He’s dead!

A keening, screaming pressure fissured my chest.

He’s dead.

I lay on my back.

Sobs erupted and wracked my weak frame.

He can’t be dead.

Please.

It can’t end this way!

It can’t.

“Sully! God, please.”

Noises sounded behind me.

Someone came to offer condolences, their presence unwanted and cruel. “Hey. It’s okay, Eleanor. I’m here.” Louise Maldon appeared beside me, ducking to her haunches and taking my frigid hand. “You’re okay.”

I tore my hand from hers, needing to roll over, to curl into a ball so my grief couldn’t dig its blade deeper into my belly.

Sully…

My sobs came faster, harder, crippling me.

She wiped at my tears, unable to stem the gush. “I’m so sorry that I had to do that. Let it pass. The nausea will fade.”

In my suffocating sorrow, I didn’t understand.

All I knew was I couldn’t live in this horror.

Let it be Euphoria.

Let it be a nightmare.

Anything but real.

He’s dead.

No!

I cried harder than I’d ever cried before.

She hugged my head and brushed my tear-wet hair aside. “Listen to me, you’re fine. I had to administer a sedative because you were out of your mind. You were hindering our efforts. We couldn’t have you striking him while we tried to save him.”

Her words did their best to wriggle into my misery. The grief pressed harder, stabbing its blade, cutting up my entrails.

Sully…

Louise stood and grabbed me by the shoulders. Dragging me into a sitting position, I dry retched as nausea pushed acid up my gullet. She moved to the side, pre-empting my attempt at vomiting but continuing to brush aside my hair. “I need you to listen now, okay? He’s alive.”

Liar.

Deceiver.

Trickster!

I swiped at her, mad in my misery. “I watched him die!”

“You did.” She grabbed my chin, fixing my dizzy-drunken eyes on hers. “He flat lined. You lost yourself to grief. I tried to remove you from the room so we could work on him, but you were uncooperative.” Her fingers dug into my cheeks. “I injected you with a sedative for your own sake…and for his.”

I blinked, tears still rivering down my face. “How could you tear me away from him? He died!”

“He died, but he didn’t stay that way.”

I stilled.

Everything stilled.

Sanity did its best to tiptoe through my lost willpower and comprehension. “You’re lying.”

She dropped her hand from my chin, taking both my hands in hers. She stayed bent over before me, imploring me to trust. Her usual medical scrubs had been replaced with a cream dress more suited for the island humidity and her freckles had grown into a thicker scattering thanks to the sun. However, her clear green eyes were still those of a professional.

A doctor who spoke with truth, even if some truths hurt.

“I need some sign from you that you’re listening. That you’re not checking out on me. Shock can create so many complications, Eleanor, and I need you to listen to me.” She squeezed my hands. “Can you do that?”

I shook my head, grateful that the sickness dispersed this time.

I no longer felt nauseous, only confused and heart sore and bruised in every bone. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Come with me. It will be easier to show you.” Pulling me from the couch where I’d woken, she escorted me through Sully’s living room where a pair of macaws had made themselves at home on a dining chair and past a bushy-tailed squirrel raiding the fruit bowl.

My knees wobbled. I tripped as my body buckled beneath mourning, but she never let me go or stopped dragging me back into the bedroom that’d become a grave.

No, wait.

I didn’t have the strength to go in there.

I would shatter beneath her lies and her truths.

I clenched my jaw as she pulled me over the threshold, and instantly Pika and Skittles chirped from the corner. They sat squished together in a rattan bowl holding smooth sea glass pieces. Bottle green and sapphire blue—refracting memories of Sully’s turbulent eyes.

My heart bled all over again, filling my bruised bones with horrendous pain. “I don’t. I can’t—” I tugged on her hand.

“Come.” With fierce strength, she yanked me to the bed.

A bed holding a sheet-shrouded man who I loved more than everything combined.

I couldn’t stop shivering.

My teeth rattled.

Tears burned as I looked at Sully.

Lying regally beneath the white sheet, he was sublime unblemished perfection. No more sweat or fever. No glistening skin or broken heartbeats. He was serene and as solemn as any artfully prepared cadaver.

My keening began anew.

I couldn’t see this.

I couldn’t remember him like this.

I wanted to recall his sexy smirk and violent passion. I wanted to hear his husky laughter and stony commands. I needed life. I needed him.

But…he’s gone.

His face was slack. His lips slightly parted and mostly blue. His skin had turned to snow, showing tracks of veins twining up his sinew-etched throat. His powerful frame and gorgeously toned muscles were fading; reducing in mass and strength the longer he remained buried beneath a sleeping curse.