Forged in Fire (Forgotten Series, #2)

Chapter Seventeen

I was sick.

Me, a shifter, a person who's immune system was supposed to be so strong that we could never get sick, had a wicked cold.

I didn't know how mundies dealt with it. My head was pounding, I had the chills and a fucking cough that made me sound like a barking seal. Not to mention how my nose was running like a faucet. I had no clue that my body could produce so much mucus but apparently it could and it was intent on producing more.

I had been hiding in my room for the past two days hoping it would go away but it hung on there like a fucking leech. I had kicked Michael out on the first day and refused to let anyone come in. I had put myself into a self-imposed quarantine and it fucking sucked. I hadn't really eaten anything in two days but I had kept my fluids up. I was more than thankful that there was a bathroom attached to my room.

I was wrapped in three different blankets with only my face showing. No one had bothered me for the first two days but now Dickhead was getting insistent. First it had been little knocks ever four or five hours, now it was banging every hour. The knocking started again on the door and I groaned, trying to cover my ears against the pounding on the door. My head felt like it was splitting open.

"Go away." My voice was barely a croak and I coughed long and hard, my chest hurting with each one before collapsing into my blanket nest. The door opened despite my protest and I glared at the dark head of he irritating male who was intruding upon my self-imposed exile.

"Why are you hiding?" His voice was tight and I felt a sudden urge to cry. I didn't know what to do. I had never been sick before and I felt like death. I whimpered as I covered my face with the blanket. I would have sniffled but my nose was so blocked it wasn't even funny. I could barely breath and my ears even felt stuffy.

"I'm sick." It came out sounding pathetic and the blanket was lifted from my face. Sterling's grey eyes took me in, widening slightly at my state. He reached reached for my face and I weakly slapped his hand away. "Don't touch-" I couldn't finish it as I fell into another coughing fit. I was only barely aware of a hand touching my forehead and cheek.

"You are burning up, Pisică. Why didn't you come to me?" That was rich. I felt like death and I didn't want to move, let alone let Dickhead see me looking like a fucking corpse. I wasn't vain but there was a different between not wearing make up and having snot run down your pale ass face.

"I di-" And just like that my voice completely failed. My throat felt swollen and I gave another silent whimper. I felt like complete and total crap. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the raspy breaths that felt like they were rubbing shards of glass into my throat.

"I'm sorry but I'm going to have to break your rule on this one, my little cat." He started to unwrap me from my blankets and I didn't even have the energy to stop him or even care. I shivered as he pulled the last blanket off of me. "I should have knocked down your door yesterday." He was frowning, I didn't have to see his face to see it. I could hear it in his voice. His arms slid around my back and under my knees before he lifted me off the bed.

For some reason the bond didn't celebrate at the contact. I found a small smile on my face at the thought that the bond was just as sick as I was. I wanted to giggle and I started to but I ended up coughing instead. The coughs shook my entire body and I felt tears come to my eyes as my throat felt like it was on fire. Dickhead tightened his grip on me, murmuring too low for me to hear.

"Easy, my guriță. Breathe." At the words I wanted to slap him upside the head as I took deep rasping breaths, trying to calm my pounding heart. If I could breathe I wouldn't have been coughing so hard in the first place. I didn't have any energy to even swat at him for saying something so ridiculously stupid. That was the whole point of this stupid cold. I could barely breathe and I coughed constantly.