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A Lick Of Frost :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 180 из 184I fought not to make small sounds of pain, and was able to do it until the medics closed around us so that I could no longer touch Doyle's fur. The moment I lost contact with him the pain was worse.
I spoke his name before I could stop myself. "Doyle," I said softly, a plea.
The huge black head shoved its way under the doctor's arm. It made her stumble. She tried to shove him away, saying, "Shoo."
"I need him, please."
She frowned at me, but she dropped back a step so the dog could be closer to me. Close enough that my hand could caress his fur on most of the bumpy ride. I'd never realized how uneven the grass around the mounds was until smoothness was what I needed. It had always seemed like such level ground until this moment.
One of the cameras peered over the shoulders of the medics. The light blinded me. The pain spiked hard and sharp, and nausea came with it.
"I'm going to be sick."
They had to stop the gurney, and help me lean over the side of it. Between the tubes and board and neck brace, I couldn't have moved myself. I'd never rolled onto my side with this many hands helping me.
Dr. Hardy yelled while I threw up, "She has a concussion! Bright lights aren't good for her."
Being sick made the inside of my head explode, or that's what it felt like. My vision swam in ruins. A hand touched my forehead, A hand that was cool and solid and felt… like I should know it.
My vision cleared to find a man with a blond beard and mustache peering into my face. It was his hand on my forehead. A baseball cap was pulled low on his face. There was something about the blue eyes that looked vaguely familiar. Then while I still looked at this stranger's face, the eyes changed. One eye held three rings of blue: cornflower blue around the pupil, sky blue, then a circle of winter sky.
I whispered, "Rhys."
He smiled through the fake beard. He'd used glamour to hide his eyes and other things, but the beard was simply a good fake. He had always been the best of the men at undercover work when we were with the detective agency.
I was crying and not wanting to, because I was afraid it would hurt.
A voice came from behind him. "Remember our deal."
Rhys answered without turning around. "You'll get your exclusive televised interview as soon as she's well enough. I gave my word."
I must have looked confused because he said, "They let us come in as part of their crew for a promised interview, or two."
I reached for him with my free hand. He took it, and kissed my palm.
I spoke his name before I could stop myself. "Doyle," I said softly, a plea.
The huge black head shoved its way under the doctor's arm. It made her stumble. She tried to shove him away, saying, "Shoo."
"I need him, please."
She frowned at me, but she dropped back a step so the dog could be closer to me. Close enough that my hand could caress his fur on most of the bumpy ride. I'd never realized how uneven the grass around the mounds was until smoothness was what I needed. It had always seemed like such level ground until this moment.
One of the cameras peered over the shoulders of the medics. The light blinded me. The pain spiked hard and sharp, and nausea came with it.
"I'm going to be sick."
They had to stop the gurney, and help me lean over the side of it. Between the tubes and board and neck brace, I couldn't have moved myself. I'd never rolled onto my side with this many hands helping me.
Dr. Hardy yelled while I threw up, "She has a concussion! Bright lights aren't good for her."
Being sick made the inside of my head explode, or that's what it felt like. My vision swam in ruins. A hand touched my forehead, A hand that was cool and solid and felt… like I should know it.
My vision cleared to find a man with a blond beard and mustache peering into my face. It was his hand on my forehead. A baseball cap was pulled low on his face. There was something about the blue eyes that looked vaguely familiar. Then while I still looked at this stranger's face, the eyes changed. One eye held three rings of blue: cornflower blue around the pupil, sky blue, then a circle of winter sky.
I whispered, "Rhys."
He smiled through the fake beard. He'd used glamour to hide his eyes and other things, but the beard was simply a good fake. He had always been the best of the men at undercover work when we were with the detective agency.
I was crying and not wanting to, because I was afraid it would hurt.
A voice came from behind him. "Remember our deal."
Rhys answered without turning around. "You'll get your exclusive televised interview as soon as she's well enough. I gave my word."
I must have looked confused because he said, "They let us come in as part of their crew for a promised interview, or two."
I reached for him with my free hand. He took it, and kissed my palm.