Chapter 107
Nausea.
That was the first thing he felt. As one sensation returned, the rest of his body screamed. It was as if something were crawling through his veins, gnawing at his organs. A rancid stench filled his nose, his head throbbed like it was splitting open, and dizziness overwhelmed him. His stomach churned, and a wave of nausea had him gagging and groaning in discomfort.
Haa, haa.
His ragged breath came in harsh gasps as he struggled to lift his eyelids—but he couldn’t see anything clearly. After blinking several times with effort, his vision finally began to focus.
The first thing he recognized was the familiar interior of a room. It took a little longer to realize it was his own. Slowly moving his gaze, he spotted an IV drip hanging beside the bed.
Following the tube down, he realized he was hooked up to something he couldn’t identify. He instinctively raised his other hand to touch the arm with the IV, but a sudden voice cut through the haze.
“Leave it. Unless you want to lose that arm.”
The frigid tone snapped his muddled consciousness back in an instant.
Ashley turned sharply toward the voice, eyes wide—and froze. Sitting in a chair a short distance away, a man was watching him.
Dominique Miller.
He repeated the name in his head, not daring to say it aloud. Silver hair that bordered on white, a towering frame just shy of two meters, and always dressed in an immaculate suit that concealed the solid build of a muscular body. It was unmistakably him.
In many ways, the man resembled Ashley. Or rather, Ashley resembled him. After all, he was Ashley’s origin.