With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(93)

“Did she teach you how to administer an injection?”

“Yes,” Callum bit off curtly.

“Then give her an injection.”

“I did that five hours ago.”

“Do it again,” he replied calmly. “I’ll stay on the line.”

Callum wasted no time. When he returned to their bedroom, she’d thrown off the towel and was on all fours again, keening low as she battled the pain.

“It’s okay, baby doll, just hold tight for me,” he cooed and sunk the needle into the flesh of her buttock as swiftly as he could.

She cried out, arching her back, her neck, her hair flying over her shoulders. Then she shifted, rounding her back, her head falling between her arms, her moan going low, distinct, guttural and absolutely terrifying to hear.

He snatched the phone to his ear. Frustrated beyond anything he’d ever experienced at his impotence in the face of his mate’s agony, Callum clipped, “She’s worse.”

“I’m counting down, son, stay with me, one minute, thirty-five seconds,” and then he counted down in Callum’s ear, every five seconds, as Sonia dropped to the bed and started writhing.

“Doctor –” Callum’s voice was vibrating with fury.

“You can probably touch her now,” the doctor said quietly then went on. “Forty-five seconds…”

Callum dropped the phone and cautiously approached his mate who had stopped twisting. Reaching out slowly, he touched her skin which was clammy with sweat but no longer scalding to the touch.

He slid his fingers across her skin to touch her with his full hand and she didn’t cry out so he carefully gathered her into his arms and sat with her in the bed, his back to the headboard, Sonia cradled against him.

“I’m okay,” she whispered into his neck and at once his hand snaked out and snatched the phone.

“I’ll want to know why this happened,” Callum said into the phone.

“She’s better now?” Dr. Mortenson queried in response.

“I said, I’ll want to know why this happened,” Callum repeated.

Dr. Mortenson sighed. “Bodies are magnificent and terrible things, son. It could be Sonia’s built up a tolerance to the drug; she’s been using it for years. But there are changes in life and in your body all the time. She may be releasing more, or less, hormones. She may have suffered a shock that caused a physical response in her system which triggered a change in the efficacy of the drug. Even if she’s living under significantly higher amounts of stress and anxiety or depression, say the loss of a loved one, the body has physical manifestations to all of those and all of them will interact with the medication. I’ll want to do blood work and she’ll need two daily injections, morning and evening, until I’m happy with what I see.”

Fucking hell, now he had to give her two of those bloody injections?

And worse, Sonia had to take them?

“When can she come in for the tests?” he demanded to know.

“Anytime you want. Go to St. Vincent’s Hospital, give them my name. I’ll send the orders. They’ll draw up the blood. Is she peaceful now?”

Callum looked down at Sonia who had wrapped her arm around his body, her other hand was cocked between them resting on his chest, her cheek on her hand. Her eyes, though, were on him. They were troubled but not fevered and delirious.

“She’s peaceful.”

“Smart girl, teaching you to give her injection. Well done, son. We’ll meet soon, I hope. Merry Christmas.”

Then the bastard hung up on him.

Callum used all of his control not to throw the phone across the room. Instead he touched the button for off and slid it into its receiver.

Then he slid his fingers through Sonia’s hair, took in a deep breath to regain his composure and asked, “You okay, my little one?”

“Um… outside of being scared out of my mind?” she queried dryly. “Yes.”

He had no response to that so didn’t make one.

“What did Dr. Mortenson say?” she enquired.

“He wants tests,” Callum replied, deciding to share the happy news that she needed two injections per day later.

She nodded.

“He also said it was a smart that you taught me how to give an injection,” he teased with mock arrogance, wishing to lift the mood and soothe away the troubled look in his queen’s eyes. Giving her a wary squeeze of his arms, he went on, “It’s lucky you were so keen to do that, baby doll.”

“Shut up, Cal,” she muttered in mock annoyance, not able to hide her relief.

But he froze.

She’d called him Cal and she’d done it more than once.

Something about that made him want to howl with victory as if he’d won an epic battle.

Instead, he gave her another careful squeeze.

Her head tilted down and she snuggled closer.

Then she shared, “All my life, that’s been my greatest fear. All my life, I feared that would happen. When I didn’t take the injection as a teen, I had to crawl to the bathroom. It seemed to take forever, it probably did. I had to stop and breathe, over and over, to get control of my limbs again. It hurt so much.”

Callum so disliked her words he wished she’d stop talking but he kept this wish to himself.

“I’d always been so scared.” Her voice hitched as if she was fighting tears and he wanted to tip her face to his and comfort her but he let her go, sensing she needed to get this out but sensing more it was something he was going to want to hear.