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night hours together.
Miranda shook her head but toed off her
sneakers and pulled off her hair band. He watched
her walk around to her side of the bed. The gentle
sway of her hips encased in jeans made his manhood
throb in time with his heart.
Fine, but just for a bit and only until you doze
off.
He caught the waist of her jeans, tugged once
and then cuddled her against his body. Soon, he
began to feel drowsy.
He forced open his heavy lids to see if Miranda
had noticed. The woman who loved to say I told you
so, had fallen sound asleep. Zacke pulled her even
closer before he too succumbed to slumber.
****
Miranda awoke to the sound of groaning. For a
moment, she thought she was back at the hospital,
but the soft glow of lamplight highlighted the
furniture in their bedroom.
She rolled over and found an empty and cold
expanse of bed where Zacke had been. Zacke?
Another moan of pain brought her up on her
knees. Zacke!
A glance over the side of the bed sent her
scampering off; in her haste, she landed hard on her
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Kensington s Soul
knees. She stifled the scream of terror crawling up
the back of her throat at the sight of Zacke s
writhing body. Zacke, tell me where it hurts. She
hesitated to move him until she knew.
He didn t answer but his hand moved to rest on
his abdomen.
Miranda placed a trembling hand on his
forehead. No sign of fever. She gently cupped his
limp wrist and counted his pulse. It was normal at
least for a mortal.
Maybe he just had a stomach virus. Did
vampires have viruses? His face creased in pain
again. Zacke, I need to get you on the bed. I m going
to get Hawk and Miles to help me.
No. Just give me a minute. Zacke shrugged off
her hand, pulled himself to his knees, caught the
bedpost, and then gained his feet. She caught his
arm to steady him. His slow topple onto the bed sent
her sprawling as well.
Zacke, please, let me call one of them. Her
voice shook just as badly as her hands.
No, there s nothing you or they can do. It will
pass.
A few moments later, Zacke lay against his
pillows with a damp cloth on his forehead. His color
had gone from waxy to lightly creamed coffee not
the rich bronze she loved, but she would take what
she could get.
Now, tell me when the pains started and how
long has this been going on. Miranda knew her
voice sounded sharp she didn t care. The man had
literally scared years off her life, and she didn t have
any extra lives to call on.
The stomach pains just started tonight.
Did you eat anything different? Miranda knew
he rarely consumed mortal food. Maybe something
he ate caused an adverse reaction.
No, nothing in the way of human food, not since
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Faith V. Smith
our midnight picnic and even then I didn t eat
much.
Maybe you need to have something now, I mean
besides your injection of blood. Miranda pushed her
hair out of her eyes and moved to the side of the bed.
I ll broil you a steak.
I m not hungry.
Zacke, we have to try something.
He nodded his head and closed his eyes. Relief
flooded her weak limbs when his breathing returned
to normal.
****
Zacke, hon, wake up. Your dinner is ready, and
I brought you a syringe of blood. You need to eat.
Zacke stirred a bit and then opened his eyes. He
raised himself up and when his back rested against
the headboard, she placed the tray on his sheet-
covered lap. Zacke eyed her culinary offering with
distaste.
Miranda, I really don t want anything.
Zacke, please. Even a vampire needs
sustenance. Just take a bite or two of the meat and if
you still don t feel like eating, then that s okay.
Zacke picked up the fork lying by the plate,
speared the most minuscule bite he could find and
brought it to his lips. He forced back the revulsion
clogging his throat and tried to keep it from his
features. Miranda looked like she was on her last
nerve, and he didn t want to add to her distress.
He tasted the lukewarm meat and his stomach
roiled. Under Miranda s watchful eye, he forced
himself to continue to chew. The more he did the
larger the bite grew. The grate of meat sliding down
his esophagus caused his gorge to rise. When the
meat hit his empty belly, nausea rose in waves as
high as the Savannah River in a tropical storm.
The tray went flying as Zacke tossed the sheet
off and forced his legs off the bed.
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Zacke!
He heard the anxiety in Miranda s voice, but the
black storm of dizziness prevented a response. His
legs felt like a landlocked sailor s as he zigzagged
toward the bathroom.
He would not throw up in front of his wife.
Zacke returned to the bedroom to find Miranda
smoothing fresh sheets over the mattress. The tray
had been removed; he assumed she had carried it
downstairs after he told her to leave him alone. No
matter how much she pleaded for him to let her
come in, he refused to have his wife hold his head
while he puked.
He might be a creature, but his pride still held
the stamp of man and warrior. However, he did owe
her an apology for shouting.
Miranda? She ignored his entreaty and
continued making the bed. The pillows came under
fire with a vigorous fluffing.
Apparently, his wife was still upset. Miranda,
look, I m sorry. I should never have yelled at you.
Miranda s head snapped up; she glared at him
but said nothing.
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