Chase, Zara - Tigers' Temptation [Impulse 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

“How’s my favorite girl this morning?” Mikael asked, tickling her side until she giggled.

“You have to call me Princess Amy,” she said.

“Okay, princess, I can live with that. What’s more, I’ve got a yummy drink for you. Wanna try it?”

“Yes, all right,” Amy said. “Does it taste nice?”

“Would I give you anything yucky?”

“Some people do.”

Layla held the cup and ensured that Amy drank every drop. The moment she’d done so her eyes dropped and Layla helped Mikael to settle her back on the bed.

“You might not want to watch this,” he said to Layla.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She cast a glance at Philo, who looked grim and refused to acknowledge her presence. Fiona seemed tense as well, but at least she managed a professionally reassuring smile.

“Ready, everyone?” Mikael asked.

Philo and Fiona nodded. Mikael removed his shirt and stood, bare-chested, flexing his fingers over Amy’s tiny body. He took a deep breath and appeared to go into a trancelike state. The tension in the room was palpable. Layla couldn’t bear to look at Mikael or Philo, couldn’t bear to see what Philo thought of her reflected in his eyes. She concentrated on her daughter instead, so small and frail in the large bed. Please God, that Mikael doesn’t sacrifice himself in vain, she pleaded over and over again inside her head.

Mikael appeared to be ready. He opened his eyes and placed his hands firmly on Amy’s stomach. They swamped her tiny body, and at first nothing appeared to happen. Then a fine tremor ran through Mikael. It rapidly turned into a violent shake, and it was obvious to Layla that he no longer had control over his limbs. He threw back his head and cried out—the sound of a wild animal in terrible pain. It echoed through Layla, wrenching at her heart. Why doesn’t he let go? she wondered. He can’t take much more. Nobody could.

The answer became obvious when he expelled a thick cloud of smoke from his mouth. Layla knew without being told that it was the disease leaving Amy’s body. She felt both euphoric and desolate at the same time. Life had given her Mikael, but it seemed she couldn’t have him
and
her daughter, and she’d just made her choice. It was so fucking unfair that she wanted to scream with the injustice of it all.

Mikael finally removed his hands, and collapsed. Philo caught him before he hit the floor. Layla went to move to him as well, but Philo motioned her away.

“I’ve got him,” he said grimly. “You take care of your daughter.”

He picked Mikael up in his strong arms, refusing all offers of help from the other shifters waiting outside. Tears in his eyes, he carried him away.

Chapter Twelve

Philo could feel Mikael’s heart beating, faint and erratic, but at least it was beating. He tried to tune into his soul mate’s mind and prioritize his needs, but Mikael’s mental signals were too weak for Philo to pick up on them. He glanced down at the face of the man he loved more than life itself, willing him to find the strength to pull through this ordeal. He no longer gave a shit if Mikael could heal the terminally ill. All he cared about was having him back. He hated Layla for putting Mikael through this. At the same time, he still felt a fierce attachment toward her. She was a mother, a human tiger protecting her cub, doing whatever it took to keep that cub alive.

But she could have kept Mikael alive, as well, and saved him the agony he’d just gone through. Damn it, Mikael should have let him give her the facts! Why hadn’t Philo gone against Mikael’s orders for once and told her himself? He should have given her it straight and let her make up her own mind. Yeah, she might have made the right decision for the wrong reason, but there were no guarantees in this life. Besides, Philo thought, his tears falling onto his buddy’s face, he’d rather have Mikael hale and hearty now and let the future take care of itself.

He carried Mikael up the stairs and deposited him as gently as he could on their bed. Mikael groaned, but didn’t open his eyes. Philo removed Mikael’s shoes, lifted his hips to pull off the only item of clothing he was wearing—a pair of denim shorts—and placed a hand on his brow. He was burning up. Philo ratcheted up the AC and left Mikael naked on the bed while he went to fetch what he needed. He returned a short time later with a concoction of herbs he’d prepared earlier, suspecting it would be needed, and which he’d just boiled up. It would reduce Mikael’s fever and increase his chances of survival, if only Philo could bring him around for long enough to get him to drink it.

“Hey, buddy, look at me.”

Philo tapped the side of Mikael’s face. Mikael groaned, thrashed his head from side to side, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Come on, Mikael.” Philo shook his shoulders this time. “Don’t you dare wimp out on me, lover!”

After three attempts, Mikael opened his eyes. They looked as dazed and disorientated as Mikael obviously felt, but at least he managed to keep them open.

“Did it work?” were his first words.

“Yeah, looks that way.”

“Good.”

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit. Couldn’t win a fight with a domestic cat right now.”

“Here, drink this.” Philo supported Mikael’s head and held the cup to his lips. “It’ll bring the fever down.”

“Not one of your vile concoctions again?”

“Don’t be a wuss, just get it down you.”

Mikael swallowed it and gagged.

“Keep it down, or I’ll make you take it again.”

“I hear you.” Mikael swallowed several times but didn’t bring the liquid back up. “Shit, that tastes bad.”

“If you can bitch, it means you’re alive.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Mikael’s voice was far too weak for Philo’s comfort, but he figured if he was able to cut feeble jokes, there must be some hope.

“Try to get some sleep, lover.” Philo brushed Mikael’s long hair away from his perspiring face and placed a cool compress on his forehead. “It’s the best thing.”

“Who’s the doctor around these parts?”

“Okay, wise guy, what would you prescribe for a patient in your condition?”

“The firing squad. It would be more humane than your fucking potions.”

Philo managed a mirthless chuckle. “Disobey me and you’ll get your wish.”

Mikael’s hand grasped Philo’s with surprising strength. “Don’t leave me.”

“Hey, I ain’t going anywhere.”

Philo shed his clothes and lay beside Mikael, holding his hand, watching as his herbs took effect and Mikael drifted off into a restless sleep.

“Now we wait,” Philo said, feeling empty, bereft, but refusing to cry anymore when he confronted the very real possibility of his worst nightmare—of history repeating itself.

Some people are dangerous to love, Philo decided as he clung to Mikael’s hand, trying to imbue him with some of his own vital energy. And Philo was one such person. Whenever he allowed himself to love, something bad always happened.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and knew who it would be. He wasn’t sure he could face her, not now, not ever.

“How is he?” Layla asked, poking her head around the door, looking anxious.

“Too soon to tell.”

“I’m sorry, Philo,” she said in an anguished tone. “I had no idea—”

“It’s not your fault he’s so damned stubborn.”

“Even so. Can I stay for a while?”

“Your little girl needs you. There’s nothing you can do here.”

He saw her wince at his cold, dismissive tone. He was being unfair, he knew that. It really wasn’t her fault, but the irrational part of his brain still held her responsible.

“She’s asleep. Fiona says she’ll stay that way for a long time.”

“Just go back to Amy and leave me to deal with Mikael.” He paused. “What’s left of him.”

* * * *

Tears blurred Layla’s vision as she made her way back downstairs. She couldn’t get the image of Mikael—her strong, majestic, powerful Mikael—out of her head. He was reduced to a mere shadow of his former self, thanks to what he’d done for Amy. She felt to blame, and Philo sure as hell blamed her. He’d made that abundantly clear.

At least her prayers had been answered. One of the beta tiger doctors on duty in the clinic took blood samples from Amy and told Layla that the multiplication of her daughter’s white cells was now normal. In other words, she was effectively in remission. The only visual sign of Mikael’s miraculous work was a small white line along her abdomen, the same as little Billy had on his tummy, where Mikael had placed his hands.

“The perforations surrounding it are where Mikael extracted the malignant cells,” the doctor told her. “They’ll fade in a few days.”

Amy was kept heavily sedated, a drip feeding liquids into her small body to keep her hydrated. Layla could do no more than watch over her and fret about Mikael. She phoned through to the apartment twice and got Philo.

“No change,” he told her curtly on both occasions. “I’ll let you know if there is.”

Layla fell into a fitful sleep on the bed next to Amy, waking every half hour or so to check on her daughter, still hardly able to believe that she really was better. She woke in the morning feeling tired, elated, and dejected. Amy was awake for a brief time and Layla saw an immediate difference in her. It was as though someone had turned a switch and restored her lively, inquisitive,
healthy
daughter to her. Layla couldn’t say exactly what it was. There was just something about her eyes. They looked clearer, pain-free, even though she hadn’t actually been in any pain.

Fiona chatted to Amy as she took her vital signs, encouraged her to drink a little something, and then gave her medicine that sent her back to sleep.

“She’ll be mostly out of it for the next few days while her body recovers,” Fiona told Layla. “Why don’t you go and freshen up, or something? She won’t know you’re gone.”

“Yes, perhaps I will.”

Layla went straight up to the apartment. Mikael was awake, but clearly very weak.

“Hey,” she said, leaning over to kiss his brow. “You absolutely rock, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” He flashed a wan smile. “How is she?”

Layla beamed. “Doing really well, thanks to you.”

“That’s good.”

Philo’s silence spoke volumes. It made her uncomfortable. She wanted to talk to him, but there was nothing that she could say that would make any difference. And so she went back to Amy, her heart breaking for what might have been. For the children who now wouldn’t be healed because Amy had sapped the last of Mikael’s power.

The next couple of days followed a similar pattern. Mikael was strong enough to get out of bed, but the atmosphere in the colony was grim since it was generally accepted that Mikael would never regain his healing ability. The beta tiger doctors could step up and do some of the stuff he once had, but apparently, none of them were on par with Mikael.

Layla continued to visit every day, and Mikael seemed pleased to see her. But Philo’s attitude remained distant and remote. Other colony members called in to see her and Amy, who was still kept asleep for most of the day. She welcomed their visits because at least they didn’t seem to blame her for Mikael’s breakdown in the way that Philo did.

She returned from a particularly fraught trip upstairs on the third day, during which Mikael had told her he intended to return to his routine in the clinic that afternoon. She knew, without being told, that that routine would never be quite the same again. The guilt was too much for Layla, who sat beside her sleeping daughter and sobbed her heart out. She loved Mikael and Philo. Her feelings for them had nothing to do with gratitude, and everything to do with the way her heart lifted whenever she so much as looked at either of them. Even Philo when he couldn’t keep the condemnation out of his eyes.