Horrified, I turn Ruth on her side so she doesn't aspirate. She continues vomiting as I rub her back, and when she's done, she remains limp. All the coughing, all the puking, she might as well be deeply asleep. I take her in my arms, wiping her face clean with the blanket, and shake her hard once more. "Ruth? Wake up. Come on."
Her head lolls back and she's as limp as a noodle.
I touch her face, and this time I notice her eyes are fluttering wildly, but when I pry open one eyelid, I see nothing but whites. Something is wrong. I hug her to my chest, stroking her hair and not caring that she drools on me. How did I not notice that she was sweaty? That she feels feverish? Has she caught something from the station itself? They're not clean, but I've never gotten sick from spending a day on one. But Ruth is human, maybe she is more vulnerable? Helpless, I glance around the room, looking for answers.
My gaze lands on the empty sweets tray next to the tub. I think about the nervous vendor who delivered them. I thought he was anxious simply because he was making a delivery to my ship, and he'd perhaps seen or heard of my actions earlier. But what if he was nervous for a different reason entirely?
What if he's poisoned Ruth?
I put my thumb into her mouth, prying her teeth open, and I smell her breath. It smells like vomit, but there's a faint bluish coating on her tongue that wasn't there before. When she licked my cock, her tongue was pink and enticing.
Someone's put something in her sweets, knowing that she would eat it. Probably hoping that she'd feed a few to me, too. Helpless with rage, I clutch my female to my chest, cradling her. I press a kiss to her sweaty brow. My Ruth. My female. She doesn't deserve this.
I'm going to make everyone responsible for this pay, and pay dearly. My mother, her assassins, Bist if he's involved…keffing everyone.
"Computer," I snarl. "Get Medic Sakkar in here immediately! Tell him Ruth is sick and if he isn't in my quarters in the next two breaths I'm leaving him behind on this keffing station!"
57
RUTH
I slip in and out of the world's worst nap. It's like I'm constantly uncomfortable, and my stomach hurts from eating too many sweets, but I can't seem to open my eyes and wake up fully. I'm vaguely aware of pain, and heat, just as I'm vaguely aware of gentle arms holding me up and pressing a cup of broth to my mouth now and then. Sometimes I almost resurface from the heavy sleep because I feel a wet, cool cloth on my brow and I want to thank whoever that is, but my lips don't work.
So I just…drift.
Time passes.
I have no idea how much time, but my body begins to grow tired of this impossibly long nap. A hand caresses mine, big fingers twining with my own, and it feels like they're wearing the softest glove ever. So soft. Reminds me of Straik's skin, and that makes me smile because a big, pouty man like him shouldn't have wonderfully touchable skin like that. He's like the universe's teddy bear.
"Ruth?" A hand brushes over my jaw. "I saw her smile. Is she waking up?"
Another voice answers before I can. "It could be gas, my lord."
I frown to myself, because I have never, ever farted in the presence of others. Even suggesting that is just rude. I lick my lips, determined to tell them that I'm a fucking lady, damn it. Instead of the strongly worded statement, though, all that comes out is a wimpy mewl.
"She's waking up! Get me soup!" That imperious voice is absolutely Straik's, and it takes everything I have to crack my eyes open and focus on him. He's blurry, his face leaning in close to mine. "I have you, Ruth." He's utterly gentle as he lifts me up into a sitting position. "I have you, love. Just rest. I'll take care of you."
I lick my lips, and even that feels like effort. "Over…sleep?"
"Did you oversleep?" Straik chuckles, his voice hushed even as he strokes my cheek. "No, not at all. You've been sick." He pauses, and then his voice gets raspy. "Very, very sick."
Is that why I'm so tired? It's a struggle to focus on his face, to think straight. It's easier to keep my eyes closed, and so I do. "Station…germs?"
He huffs. "Not exactly. The sweets were poisoned. Evidently we weren't as far away from my mother's assassins as I thought. She does love her poisons." His tone is full of self-loathing. "I should have realized—"
"Hey," I whisper. "None of that." Straik lifts me a little higher, and then I'm enveloped in the scent of him, warm, and familiar, and wonderful. It makes me want to fall asleep again, knowing that I'm comfortable and safe, but he sounds so upset that it forces me to stay awake. "You didn't know."