In Deeper (15 page)

“OK.” He didn’t need her approval, but she gave it anyway. She snuggled into his embrace as he carried her out of the office.

“Ms. Proctor! Did you hurt yourself?”

She turned her head toward the sound of Karl’s concerned voice. “I’m fine, Karl. Under the weather perhaps. Can you cancel my appointments for this afternoon?”

“Cancel the ones for tomorrow as well,” Micah barked out the command.

She shook her head. “No. Can’t. I have to…”

Micah tightened his grip. “Stay in bed all day until you get better. You are not coming to work.”

It wasn’t worth arguing, so she allowed the discussion to drop. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she turned her face into the cool skin of Micah’s neck and allowed his scent to soothe her.

She loved how he smelled, so masculine and spicy. If she could bottle the scent, she would make millions.

She dozed on the way home, but she was conscious of the tight grip he kept on her left hand. Her fingers went numb, but she didn’t tell him to let go. She loved that he kept touching her.

He’d come for her. She’d never had someone do that, take care of her when she was unwell. Granted, she didn’t often get sick, but it warmed her heart to know he cared enough to stick around even when she had to look like death warmed over.

At the beach house, Emma met them in the hall. She hurried forward, the wisps of her short, dark hair in disarray. “What’s wrong with Celeste?”

“She’s sick.” Micah carried her toward the stairs. “Where is Drake?”

Emma fluttered her hands. “He and Max went out. Should I call him?”

“Yeah,” Micah answered in a grim voice. “Ask him to call the doctor. There’s something wrong. She’s too hot.”

Emma hastened forward. Celeste held out her hand. “No. Don’t get near me. If it’s contagious, I don’t want to make you and the baby sick.”

“The baby?” Micah’s surprised exclamation echoed through the hall. “What baby?”

Celeste lolled her head on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s all right, Celeste. I’m pregnant, Micah. Almost three months.”

“The fuck you say.” Micah’s tone registered his surprise and elation. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need to take Celeste to bed.”

Going up the stairs was pure hell. Every step Micah took jostled her and made her head pound. Nausea attacked her, and she moaned in agony. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

He rubbed her shoulders. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Everything will be OK.”

She thought he would take her to the guest room, but instead he carried her to his room and laid her on his massive king bed. After propping her up with a bundle of fluffy pillows, he bent down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll get a wastebasket.”

The nausea had subsided, but she gave a weak nod. Would it return? She really hoped if she threw up, he was nowhere around. With her wolf’s healthy immune system, she seldom got sick. It made no sense. She’d noticed she’d felt more tired than usual but attributed it to the late nights she’d been having.

Micah returned. He placed a small trash can near the bed before climbing in beside her. She rolled toward him, and he didn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around her. “How do you feel?”

“Like crap,” she answered honestly. It hurt to open her eyes, so she kept them closed and cuddled against him. “I’m hot.”

“I’ll go cut on the air.” He tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her arms.

“No, don’t leave.”

He settled back in beside her. He was warm, but she didn’t want to let go. Holding him helped keep the sickness at bay. It was improbable, but she felt better with his arms around her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Poisoned?”

Micah kept his voice low to keep from waking up Celeste, who lay curled against his chest, but he glared at the doctor standing near the bed. “Are you sure?”

The doctor nodded his balding head and continued putting away the equipment he’d used for the blood test. “Absolutely. She’s showing all the signs common with cyanide poisoning. It’s a good thing she is a shifter. If she were human, she would undoubtedly be dead by now. My guess is since the onset seemed gradual, rather than sudden, the poisoning occurred over the course of several months.”

Micah cut a quick glance to Drake, who stood near the door. The alpha nodded to signal he understood the severity of the diagnosis. Celeste had been receiving threats for the past month. Was it possible the events were unrelated, or had the e-mails been the last step in the unknown enemy’s plan?

He tightened his embrace around the woman in his arms. “What is the treatment?”

Dr. Watkins put away his stethoscope and snapped his medical bag closed. He was a private doctor, one Drake employed for a hefty retainer, to see to the health of the Society’s members. “Lots of rest. The chemical will work its way out of her bloodstream in a few days. In the meantime, everything she ingests should be examined closely. If additional cyanide enters her system, shifter or not, it will kill her. Call me immediately if you suspect any change in her condition. I will leave a prescription for Ms. Proctor’s nausea and pain.”

Micah’s vision subtly changed. The urge to shift caused by his extreme agitation was difficult to fight. He coughed to clear his throat and his vocal cords, stretched tight, ached with the effort to speak. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Drake stepped forward to shake the doctor’s hand. “Thank you for coming, Kevin. I’ll see you out.”

Once the door closed behind the two wolves, Micah glanced down at Celeste. She slept peacefully, thanks to an injection of sedative. She’d become increasingly nauseated and tremors had racked her slender body. Now she lay still, her breathing even and deep. A long strand of hair that had escaped from her chignon was caught under her chin. He gently eased it free and brushed it away from her forehead.

Fear held him in its grip. What would he have done if he’d lost her? Not worth thinking about. For so long, he’d never thought he would have a chance with her, but this summer had proven him wrong. Despite how it had started, he had to admit he’d taken a huge step toward a relationship with her. He wasn’t sure what would happen between them, but he didn’t want to lose her. And certainly not because some dickhead had tried to poison her.

Celeste murmured in her sleep and turned toward him. He slid down to put his face on level with hers and watched her sleep. She was crazy beautiful, almost too much to be believed. A tiny beauty mark on her right cheek was the only blemish on an otherwise perfect complexion. He adored her beauty mark, a symbol to let him know she was real despite being perfection personified.

Her lashes fluttered and her eyes slid open. She seemed confused at first, but the glazed-over look slowly disappeared. “Micah?”

“Shush,” he whispered and stroked her cheek. “Try to rest.”

A yawn ended in a tiny squeak. “What time is it?”

He glanced at his watch. “Nearly six.”

“Six?” Her eyes flew wide open. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Just a couple of hours. The doctor said you should sleep. It’ll help get the poison out of your system.”

Her face paled. “Poison?”

The realization he’d let the information slip without warning made him silently curse. “Apparently so. Cyanide.”

She tried to sit up, but he held his arm over her waist. “Don’t get worked up. We’ll deal with it. The most important thing for you is rest. Doctor’s orders.”

She subsided against the mattress, but the softness disappeared from her body. “Someone poisoned me? When?”

The impotence of his anger infuriated him even more. “They’ve done it for months supposedly. Tell me, Celeste. Is there anyone you know who would do this?”

She shook her head wildly. “No. No one.”

“It has to be someone you know. Someone you trust. Is there anyone at work who you may have pissed off, even unintentionally?”

She lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead. “Not that I know of. I’m sure I irritate my editors, but surely they wouldn’t want to kill me.”

He struggled to remain calm. This was no random accident. Someone had purposefully tried to kill Celeste. “I want a list of them. I’ll have Drake’s men run a background check.”

She pushed up on her elbow. “That’s ridiculous, Micah. All of my employees have been with the company for years. They’re loyal. None of them would sacrifice the magazine.”

“Someone has.” He hated to be the one to burst her bubble, but he had to do it. “You almost died, Celeste. Goddamn it, you can’t ignore the fact that someone wants you dead. It’s not just e-mails anymore. Someone poisoned you, and I won’t rest until we find them.”

“Why do you care?”

He snapped his mouth shut. What in the hell did she mean? Fury at the situation beat a staccato rhythm within the vein near his temple. The pulsating reminded him of how close he was to losing his cool. He wanted to rail at her for even daring to doubt his concern, but rest was tantamount to her recovery. He refused to risk her health by picking a fight.

“You will stay here. No more work. No going out.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “Don’t argue with me. We’ll postpone your anniversary celebration.”

She struggled to a sit. “The hell we will! It’s my magazine, for fuck’s sake. I’m not canceling.”

He tugged at his hair and groaned. “Jesus, Celeste. For one minute, forget about your damned career and face facts. You nearly died. Someone wants you dead, and they probably won’t stop until you are. The important thing right now is to find out who is responsible. Then we can have all the fucking parties you want.”

Celeste’s eyes snapped with fire. “You’re not my boss. Sleeping with me doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”

“No,” a new voice smoothly inserted, “but I do have the right. As alpha, I order you to stay in this room until we solve this problem, Celeste.”

Micah glanced toward the doorway where Drake lounged. For once, his older brother pulling the alpha card didn’t make him see red. Instead, gratitude and relief made his breath release in a soft whoosh.

Celeste didn’t back down from the fight. She made a move to stand, shrugging off Micah’s restraining hands, and shuffled closer to Drake.

“You’re the alpha. I’ve always done everything you’ve asked me, just like any good beta would. But don’t make me stay here, Drake. Not when everything my family has worked so long for lies on the line. If it is someone who works for me, my company is at stake.”

Drake’s stern expression softened. “It’s just a few days, at most. We’ll find the culprit, and then you can go back to your party.”

“The invitations have already been sent.” Celeste threw up her hands. “It’s too late to cancel.”

Drake remained silent. Micah watched the two of them together, Drake, so tall and dark, and Celeste, also tall but blonde. A physical reminder of how perfectly matched they would’ve been had Drake’s heart been in it. Micah turned his head, ill with the jealousy that always ate at him with the reminder of their previous relationship.

“How about I promise to do everything in my power to find the person responsible as quickly as possible?” Drake’s tone hinted at consolation but carried an undercurrent of steel. “But if we don’t succeed, the party will be delayed. Deal?”

Celeste huffed, her slim arms crossed over her waist. “Fine. Whatever.”

Drake shot her a quick look before turning his attention to Micah. “Can I see you a moment?”

Micah wanted to groan. Time for a lecture. “Sure.”

Out in the hall, Drake wasted no time in getting to the point. “There’s been a complication.”

A sick premonition hit him. “What is it?”

For once in his life, Drake appeared uncomfortable. “An old picture of Celeste and me surfaced. We did our best to prevent it from getting out, but I’m afraid some of the tabloids got to it first. I’ve already discussed it with Emma, so she understands it was in the past, but I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“What kind of picture?”

Drake pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it to show a grainy image. Micah glanced at the happy couple on the screen, a familiar scene from his past, and bit back a curse. “You had me worried. At least you’re both clothed.”

“Micah,” Drake said in a warning tone. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t bother you. I’m not an idiot. Whatever you have with Celeste, I won’t stand in the way.”

Micah stood straighter. “It’s really none of your business.”

“Of course it is.” Drake shook his head. “It’s not worth fighting over, but I care about both of you. I just hope you don’t end up getting hurt.”

“I’m a big boy. I’ve got this, Drake.” Micah patted his brother’s shoulder for emphasis. “But thanks for the concern.”

“You know, if it had been up to me, you would’ve been my choice.”

Micah didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The beta is chosen by the Society. It’s not your fault.”

Drake sighed. “But it created this distance between us. You had every right to be upset.”

“Look, Drake. I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know I wasn’t cut out to be the second man. It’s not really my thing.”

“No, of course not.” Drake hummed beneath his breath. “But if anything happens to me…”

“It won’t,” Micah interrupted, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

“But if it did,” Drake continued. “You stand in line to inherit the title.”

“Only temporarily. Don’t worry. I won’t get in the way of your child.”

Drake’s eyebrows lifted. “You know?”

Micah shrugged, pretending it didn’t hurt that he’d found out accidentally. “Celeste let it slip. I’ll keep quiet if you want me to.”

“We planned on telling the family when we had everyone together for Labor Day.”

“Good news travels fast.” Micah chuckled. “You’re going to be a dad. Congrats. How does it feel?”

“Thanks.” Drake seemed unsure of himself, something utterly foreign to Micah. “I’m scared shitless, if you must know.”

“Understandable.” Micah’s chuckle turned into outright laughter. “You’ll have to carve time out of your busy schedule to pull diaper duty.”