ROMANCE: Mason (Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Boxset) (New Adult Contemporary Stepbrother Romance Collection) (38 page)

After two hours of driving Blake pulled over at the side of the road, and they ate sandwiches for breakfast. The road was quiet, and they didn’t talk much. They silence between them was as it always was, not really awkward, but not exactly companionable, either.

A breeze picked up and whipped the wax paper Madison’s sandwich had been wrapped in, into the field adjacent.

“Great,” she said and got up.

“Just leave it,” Blake answered. But Madison wanted to go get it. She told herself it was because she didn’t want to litter. But she just needed to get away from Blake for a while. They hadn’t spent this much time together, awake, in years and she felt like she needed to get away.

She stepped through the long grass, finally seeing the paper she was chasing. Something hard and sharp stuck up the leg of her jeans and ripped at her skin. A sharp pain shot up her leg and she cried out.

She rolled up her pants and inspected her leg. A long scratch ran from h her ankle half-way up her calf, and it was bleeding. It didn’t look very deep, but it would need attention.

She made her way back to Blake. He was very calm about it, almost clinical, with no emotion. He took out the medical kit and helped her bandage it up.

In no time they were back on the road. The rest of the trip was quiet, slightly strained but not so much that it was unbearable. Madison’s leg throbbed, and the bandage had a red blood-stained line down the front, but she ignored it. The scenery changed into a blur, and she dozed off for a while.

The trip was draining. Madison hated long drives, and with her fear of flying that was all she ever did when they traveled.

“I can’t believe these damn roads,” Blake said. He was grumpy with the trip. He hated it more than she did, and without a fear of flying he thought she was ridiculous.

“We’ll get through this,” she said in a steady voice. There was no point talking to him when he was like this. He swore under his breath when they joined a long queue of cars that waited to be let through the one open lane a handful at a time.

By the time they finally reached Chicago it was dark and neither of them had really eaten. Madison felt light-headed. As a rule she ate every two-to-three hours.

“If we don’t get something to eat soon I’m sure I’m going to disappear,” she said. She felt a little transparent already.

“We’re not eating until we got to the bloody hotel. I’m sick of driving. I’m not making it any longer than it needs to be.”

Madison kept quiet. They drove through busy, well-lit streets. Chicago was huge and the bustle was strange compared to Pierre. Madison had grown up in small towns and cities made her feel claustrophobic.

“This is more like it,” Blake said, sounding in a better mood for the first time in hours. “We should have come to stay in a place like this.”

“You wanted to be close to your parents,” Madison pointed out. Blake had been the one that had chosen Pierre. She thought of their pending divorce. It would be strange for them to go their separate ways after so long. “Besides, you can always move here after.”

Blake looked at her, the passing street lamps through intermittent beams of light on his face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. That seemed to be the norm, these days.

When they got out and walked into the hotel Madison felt like she was going to drop. Her leg ached painfully and darkness throbbed at the edge of her vision in time with her pulse. Maybe she was dehydrated. She hadn’t had too much water, because she hadn’t wanted to keep asking Blake to pull over. Women couldn’t go in the bushes the way men could, and Blake liked to avoid gas stations and other pit stops unless it was necessary.

Blake got the room key, but the secretary asked him to fill out a few forms.

“I’m going to head on up to the room,” Madison said. She took the key from Blake and walked to the elevator. Her legs wouldn’t listen to her. They felt like lead and when she wanted to drag them like a child.

The room was on the third floor with a view of Lake Michigan. Blake had really made an effort to get them something nice. She turned and looked at the double bed. Ironic that he still reserved a couple’s room, even though he didn’t want to be a couple anymore. Old habits died hard.

Madison walked into the bathroom. She sank down on the bath mat. Her head was throbbing dully and she couldn’t focus. She tugged at the bandage with her fingers, struggling to undo it. It was soaked in blood, almost no white visibly anymore, only an ugly red. When she pulled it off the wound was red and inflamed, and blood poured out of it like she’d just cut it. Her head bothered her, and she felt short of breath. Strange? She’d never felt queasy about blood before.

Dark spots started dancing in front of her eyes, and she leaned back, tipping her head so it rested on the edge of the bath. She felt her body slipping, and she didn’t do anything to stop it. The light slipped away, and she couldn’t follow it. She heard the hotel room door click, but it was far away. Blake called for her. She should probably have answered.

When he walked into the bathroom, she heard him swear.

“Madison!” he called out, and then she slipped into the black, letting it sweep her away.

When she opened her eyes again she was surrounded by white ceilings and walls and the chemical pinch of disinfectant hung in the room. She heard the faint beeping and clicking and shuffling of shoes that always went with these smells.

When she turned her head, Blake was sitting next to the bed, head on the mattress. He was asleep. The sun fell into the window. How long had she been out?

“Blake?” she said and her voice was hoarse. She had an aftertaste in her mouth that she couldn’t place. She couldn’t remember eating anything. When she moved her hand something pulled against the skin and it hurt. She looked down and found a drip that was hooked up to an IV line.

“Hey…” Blake’s gentle voice caressed her like it hadn’t done in years. She turned to him. He had dark circles under his eyes and stubble. He looked shabby. His hair stuck up in all directions and his eyes were bloodshot.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she said. She felt weak, but other than that everything was alright.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blake took her hand. The touch was foreign, and Madison looked at his hands, rough and big, capable. It was like she hadn’t seen them in ages.

“How did you find out?”

“I had to write up your medical information, and they phoned that doctor of yours. She clued them in on the Willebrand thing so they could stop the bleeding. They patched the wound up with Fibrin glue and gave you Desmopressin or something like that. To stop the bleeding.”

For the first time she felt the heavy bandages around her leg under the covers.

“What happened?”

“You lost so much blood, and that and not eating made you pass out. If you’d told me about this bleeding thing I could have helped you.”

Madison closed her eyes again. “I didn’t think it was important. I didn’t think… you wanted to know.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

She took a deep breath. “You’re always so strong. Everything works with you. And then you told me how your life wasn’t what you wanted. I didn’t want to look like I was trying to sabotage that, suddenly tell you something like this to make you pity me and stay.”

Blake shook his head. “I can’t believe you’d think that,” he said. “We may have grown apart, but you’re still my wife. I don’t want anything to happen to you. And you need to tell me these things so I know what to do when you end up unconscious in a pool of blood on a hotel floor.”

Madison nodded. She looked toward the window.

“It’s probably late. We should get back on the road. The kids are waiting.”

“They can wait a bit longer. I want you okay before we set foot out of here. Even if we have to stay another night. I called both offices already and put in more leave.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Madison said.

“I know.”

Madison fell asleep again soon after that. She was more drained than she expected. Blake stayed by her. Whenever she woke up he was at her side, checking if she was alright.

By noon a doctor came round and talked to them.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he said to Madison. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” Madison asked. She felt handicapped somehow. The doctor shook his head.

“Not if you make a plan to get patched up when you do get injured. You should treat this the same as hemophilia. It’s a bigger deal than you think. I know you don’t feel sick, and when everything is going according to plan nothing is wrong. But people hurt themselves a lot more than you think. Even if it is just a small nick. You should just keep an eye out and make the effort to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. Then none of this should happen again.”

Madison nodded, but Blake was the one that asked a couple of questions. He wanted to know about the disease, how it worked, what the options were for treatment and what he could do. He was attentive and caring. Madison stared at the man she’d been married to for thirty years, and apparently didn’t know.

When the doctor left, Blake went to get coffee, and Madison fell asleep again before he returned.

3

They were on the road again by seven the next morning. Madison had been released from the hospital late the previous afternoon, and they’d gone back to the hotel room armed with medication and instructions. Blake seemed determined that something like this would never happen again. His attentiveness and care caught Madison off guard; for a man that had been so distant for so long he really made an effort with her.

They didn’t talk much along way, as the last time they drove, but this time the silence was companionable. Blake suggested that Madison choose a station, and the drove together, listening to a talk show Madison hadn’t had time for in a while.

The last stretch to Boston would be a fourteen hour one, and they had a lot of time on the road.

“Let me know when you want me to take over for a while,” Madison said after about six hours on the road. Blake shook his head.

“I don’t want you driving. The medication is still in your system and you just need to relax. I’ve got this.”

“It’s not necessary for you to do the full shift. You drove the whole way to Chicago.”

But Blake wouldn’t hear anything of it, and after a couple of back-and-forth arguments, Madison gave up.

When they reached the turn off for Detroit, Madison cast a glance at Blake, and she frowned. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his skin shiny with the wetness. His eyes were bloodshot like they’d been in the hospital, but worse, and he gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked. She knew the answer to her question, and still Blake shook his head.

“It’s just a wave. It’ll pass.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and he coughed. A shiver rippled over his skin, so precisely she could see it start from his head and work down his neck, over his arms and then under his clothes down his body. He looked rough, like his outline was starting to take on a different shape. The edges of the man I knew were becoming blurred.

“Blake?” Madison said. Worry was clear in her voice now. Blake hadn’t looked like this for years, but she knew the symptoms – recognized them for what they were.

“Maybe you should—“ she didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. Blake’s arms grew bigger, the muscle bulging underneath the skin. His hands became larger on the feel, his skin covered in hair all over, and his nails grew and became pointed before his hands shrunk and bulged out.

The car started swerving across the road. Blake was changing. No full moon, no night time, no privacy. He was changing right here right now.

“Pull over!” Madison cried and Blake managed to slow the car enough not to cause them hard. They bumped unevenly over the rough terrain next to the road, and finally the car skidded to a side-ways stop. Madison realized her hands were gripping the door handle and her seatbelt, and her breathing was shallow.

But her own body wasn’t the thing that needed her attention now. Next to her Blake was making a sound that was a lot less like groaning and a lot more like growling. It was deep and throaty. His whole face was changing, losing everything that made him Blake. His face shaped out into a muzzle, and long sharp teeth were visible under his lips that he pulled up in a snarl.

A ripping sound filled the car as his clothes gave into his change in size, and moment later he sat on the driver’s seat, a giant wolf among the shredded bits of clothing.

Madison hadn’t seen Blake’s wolf in almost twenty years. The animal was majestic and beautiful. And deadly. It had aged, as Blake had. It was more distinguished, and its black eyes looked wiser. Its fur was a rich glossy brown, with gray paws and a grayed muzzle.

“Blake, honey,” Madison said, keeping her voice soft and low. She didn’t want to startle him. She knew that he was an animal first and foremost like this, and he could turn on her if she wasn’t careful. The wolf looked at her, its eyes on her. She was careful not to make eye contact. All those years ago she’d learned how to deal with the wolf, and all of that training was coming back now.