"Rachel, wake up. Sweetheart, look at me."
The words drifted down to me through a thick, heavy fog, pulling me reluctantly away from a dark, completely empty void. I tried to groan in protest, but my throat felt like dry parchment. My eyelids felt like lead weights as I slowly forced them open, squinting against the soft, pale morning light filtering into our royal quarters.
Demetrius was hovering over me, his face a mask of intense, pale worry. His large hand was pressed flat against my forehead, his touch incredibly cool against my skin.
"You're burning up," he murmured, his deep voice thick with an anxious edge that immediately pulsed through our bond. He shifted his hand down to cup my cheek, his dark eyes scanning my face. "I already called for the pack doctor—he’s on his way up to
