Page 43 of Anton's Grace
I couldn’t do it. I would need to renounce my clan, relinquishing the only thread still linking me to my roots. A man without a clan was a man without honor – a nothing, a nobody, a disgrace. Granted, they would never embrace me, but at least now they accepted me. They needed me. And through me, the man by whose mercy I got to live no longer led a second-rate clan but one of the most powerful on Braxia.
My eyes strayed towards my computer. The second file beckoned me. I knew what it contained. William wouldn’t lie. Yet, I needed to hear it from her own lips. As the recording played through Grace’s and Marcus’ conversation, the knot of guilt and shame twisted and roiled with renewed intensity.
“He makes me want to be better.”
What she didn’t realize was that she was doing the same for me. Grace made me question things I always accepted as normal because that was what Braxians did. However, hurting teenage girls so savagely over wounded pride wasn’t right. Brutalizing her the way I had over that same barbaric code of honor was madness. That thought had tormented me for the past two weeks.
“I love when he’s affectionate like that. It makes me want to stay with him forever.”
Those words played in a loop in my head. I wanted her to stay with me forever, but she no doubt expected it to be as my mate. The clan wouldn’t accept it. You didn’t mate with human females, you only owned them. And they wouldn’t allow me to have male offspring. I would be expected to kill my sons, and if I didn’t, they would hunt them down. A picture of Grace’s belly swollen with my child sprung to mind. I almost choked with emotion.
Braxians could only mate and reproduce with Braxian females. As a half-breed, I couldn’t sully our females with my weaker seed or further taint my clan’s gene pool by having offspring of my own. In other words, I couldn’t have a future – no mate, no children. If I had daughters, they would become entertainment for any male within the clan. That was complete shit.
So why do I subject myself to this?
Because I was Braxian, and that was our way. And above all, because I owed my father too much and swore never to shame the clan ever again.
Blocking those thoughts, I replayed the recording of Grace and me dancing in a loop.
The delegation would arrive within the hour. Catering to that piece of shit Gerwin and his minions was the last thing I needed. They would expect to see Grace attending me. That was going to be fun news to break to her. I hadn’t seen her since this morning’s fiasco. The one time I worked up the courage to go check on her, she had been asleep. It surprised me considering how active she normally was. My steps were heavy and reluctant on the way to our bedroom. I expected to find her watching those recordings Romero made her study. Instead, she was still sleeping, curled up on her cushion, her back to me. Worry coiled and writhed all over my skin – something was wrong.
“Grace?” I called out, rushing over.
She stirred but didn’t turn. Crouching, I pulled down the warm blanket obscuring her face. Her cheeks looked flushed and sweat beaded her brow.
I touched her skin. “Fuck.”
Using my personal com, I called William. “Get Dr. Farland here ASAP. Grace is burning with fever. She’s lethargic and struggling to breathe.”
“On it,” William said.
I carried her to the bathroom and started filling the tub with cold water while undressing her. She put up a bit of a struggle after I submerged her. Her movements were sluggish, and she mumbled incoherent words. My mind raced, trying to figure out what could have happened to make her this ill so quickly. Was it because of something I did? Had the punishment caused her illness? I crushed the fear blossoming in the pit of my stomach that this was something serious. Whatever the future might have in store for us, I needed Grace in mine.
Someone knocked on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” I shouted.
I heard Dr. Farland’s light footsteps approaching. William shadowed him, carrying a heavy medical bag.
“Hello, Mr. Myers,” Dr. Farland said, walking in.
“She slept all day, which was strange,” I said. Now wasn’t time for niceties. The doctor crouched in front of the tub to have a look at her. “When I came to check up on her a few minutes ago, I found her in this state.”
Farland checked her temperature then took some blood samples. He ran them through a portable analyzer.
“Please take her out of the water and to the bed so I can perform a proper exam,” he said.
I lifted her out of the bath. Cold water dripped down my arms and soaked my chest. William handed me a thick towel and I wrapped her as best I could. He stepped out of the room to give her privacy but not before giving me a look that fueled my festering guilt.
Farland fluttered about Grace while performing his exam.
“Please turn her on her side and fold her legs,” he said, pulling out a vicious looking needle. “I need to perform a spinal tap.”
“Why? What do you think is wrong with her?” I said, worry gnawing at me.
“Based on her current symptoms, the speed at which they manifested and the preliminary blood tests I’ve just performed, I believe she has a case of bacterial meningitis. I will know for sure once I’ve analyzed her spinal fluids.”
I cringed while he inserted the needle at the base of her spine to draw out some fluids.