The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(133)

But I’m glad he was, because chocolate sounded really good right about now. Popping the first truffle into my mouth and moaning when my teeth sank through the outer layer and into some thick gooey...mmm, caramel, I moaned aloud.

I downed three before I began to wonder where Asher was. Odd that he’d left me a present and then...not showed up to receive his thank you, which ooh, reminded me. I should thank him...sexily.

If only we were at my place, I could dig into the bottom of my undie drawer and find some of that lingerie I bought because it was cute but never wore.

Well, a girl would just have to make do. After stripping naked, I riffled through his shirt drawer until I found something soft and worn that I’d seen him in more than once.

When I slid it on, a little more winded than usual, I sat on the armrest of the couch to catch my breath, frowning over my sudden exhaustion. I ate another chocolate, but for some reason, that made my pulse race...or maybe it wasn’t the bonbon, but I felt awfully funny all of a sudden. Pausing mid-chew on my fourth—or was this the fifth—chocolate, I blinked rapidly when the room went sideways.

“Whoa.” Putting out a hand to catch myself, I shook my head.

What the hell? I tried to swallow, but the chocolate didn’t want to go down. Instead, I wheezed, and then a violent pain sliced through my stomach.

Clutching my abdomen, I slipped off the couch and landed on my knees, doubling over until I was pressing my forehead against cool wood flooring. Mozart’s face appeared from under the bed as if he were worried, and coming to check on me.

I tried to tell him I was okay, but it took me another second to realize I couldn’t speak...because my throat was swelling.

I blinked when the squirrel went fuzzy, my eyes swelling too.

Oh, shit. Allergic reaction. A little discombobulated because one had never really come on this fast before, I fumbled for my purse, but I couldn’t remember where I’d left it. I tried to look around the room, but I could barely see anything. My breathing got worse.

I rasped Mozart’s name, not sure what he could do—fetch my purse for me?

But I was glad at least he was here with me.

My lungs seized because I could no longer get oxygen, and I think I began to vomit, but I was so weak, and my skin was so cold and clammy, I just lay on Asher’s floor, shivering.

The second before I lost consciousness, a tear slipped down my cheek. This was going to hit him hard. He’d lived his whole life waiting for someone to love him, and now...now I had to leave him. Not wanting that for him, I tried one last time to crawl blindly, searching for my purse with my hands alone, only to find warm, coarse fur.

Another tear trickled down my cheek, and I petted Mozart until everything went black.





I softly sang Avicii’s “Hey Brother” under my breath as I hurried out to my bike, ready to get home and crawl under the covers with Remy. I’d rushed through clean-up at the bar, thinking about her warm and naked in my bed.

I’d just swung my leg over my seat when Mandy, one of the waitresses, called, “Hey, Asher. My battery died again. Could you jump-start my car; I have cables.”

With a little internal groan, I swung back off my Triumph, and said, “Sure,” just as Quinn jogged up and said, “I can help her if you want to head out.”

I was tempted to take him up on his offer. But Quinn probably wanted to get home to his wife and baby just as much as I wanted to get home to Remy.

Home.

The word swirled through me and filled me with a lovely warmth. She really was my home. And I was going to finally tell her I loved her. Tonight. As soon as I helped Mandy.

“No, you go ahead, man. I got this.” I waved Quinn away and helped Mandy with her car.

Once she was good to go, and I’d waited until she could actually drive her automobile from the parking lot, I finally fired up my baby and drove to my familiar dark alley.

The lights were on at the end of the stairwell as I unlocked the door and eased it open.

Ooh, she’d waited up for me. Even better. Grinning, I jogged down the steps and swept into the apartment, ready to find her—hopefully—naked and spread out on some piece of furniture, awaiting me...like a good sex slave.

But there was no naked Remy. And there wasn’t even a sleeping Remy on the bed. In fact, the bed was empty and made.

I drew in a sharp breath, not prepared for her to have just left me like that. Not sure what it meant, or what I should make of her not being here, I started more slowly into the apartment when my whacked-out squirrel came flying out from under the bed at me.

“Jesus,” I yelped, dancing my feet to dodge him, not at all certain what the hell he was doing as he scurried around the base of my feet and then took off again.

“What did she feed you?” I wondered with a scowl as I watched him pick up what looked like a bonbon off the floor and disappear back under the bed with it.

But a bonbon? What?

I started to investigate when only a few steps closer revealed a limp human hand on my floor where it peeked out from the other side of the couch.

“Oh God...Remy!” I raced to her, skidding onto my knees beside the still figure.

Her face was unrecognizable, swollen with a blotchy red rash. But it had to be her; she had the purple streaks in her hair.

“Oh, Jesus. No.” I scooped her into my arms and pressed her limp body to my chest, wondering what the hell had just happened. “Remy, wake up. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”