Chapter Seventy-SevenI shut the door and sat at the edge of the bed, stared down at Zantry. How long would it take for him to wake? The bond trickled between us, nowhere as close as the connection we'd shared before.
God, I could have lost him–we could have lost each other.
I dressed slowly, tied my hair in a high ponytail and paused beside the bed again.
“Zantry?” I murmured. “Please wake up.”
I waited a second, then tucked the sheets around his torso, squeezed his hand, brushed my lips against his. “Please,” I begged against his lips, sent the plea through the bond. Zantry's breathing hitched again, and I opened my eyes. His were still closed, but his breathing had quickened, his expression no longer relaxed. “Please.” I clutched his hand harder, trying to give him my strength. “Come
