The sight of vomit on the floor made Soren’s skin crawl; for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to m the door and get out of there. But when he saw


    Evangeline, unconscious and pale, he forced down his rising panic and helped her into the bathroom.


    Some of the mess had gotten on her dress. Soren maneuvered her into the tiny, run–down shower, figuring he’d at least try to clean her up a bit. He twisted the handle, and immediately the overhead rain–style shower erupted, drenching them both in icy water. Evangeline jerked in his arms, the freezing shock snapping her out of her stupor for a split second.


    But then, a fierce thirst wed at her throat, and a feverish heat seemed to re beneath her skin. The cold water did nothing to soothe her–if anything, it made that burning sensation worse, like her whole body was on fire. She could feel every breath radiating heat.


    A primal, desperate urge scrambled her thoughts. She gasped, searching blindly for something–someone–to anchor her. Soren fumbled to figure out the unfamiliar shower controls and finally managed to shut the water off. He barely had time to catch his breath before she suddenly copsed against his chest, her body feverish and trembling.


    Her delicate hands slipped under his shirt, restless and searching. Startled, Soren looked down into her zed, pleading eyes–eyes that seemed to drown him in longing. Her soaked dress clung to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. He swallowed, pulse pounding, his mind nearly nking out.


    Soren never saw much point in suppressing his own desires–especially not with Evangeline. She was his wife, after all, no matter how turbulent things had gotten between them. Their marriage was a fact, whether he liked it or not.


    So, as he always had, he responded to her.


    The cramped shower grew stiflingly warm, the air practically humming with tension. Soren pressed her gently against the tiled wall–but whether by ident or a stray elbow, the shower suddenly sputtered back to life, spraying them both down again.


    The icy downpour snapped Soren back to himself. He managed to pull away just as Evangeline, crying and iling, started pushing at him, her mood swinging wildly. Annoyed and a bit shaken, he stepped aside, passing her a bottle of water


    whenever she whimpered about being thirsty.


    When she finally wore herself out, Soren quietly cleaned her up, changed her into fresh pajamas, and carried her to bed. Then he set about cleaning the disaster left in her wake.


    Atst, Soren copsed into a chair, feelings tangled and exhausted. Usually, it was Evangeline who took care of him. This was the first time he’d ever looked after her.


    He wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing this on purpose. But even if she was, he didn’t have the energy to drag her up and give her a piece of his mind.


    More than once, he considered just leaving–except his clothes were drenched, and he wasn’t about to walk out looking like a drowned rat. To make matters worse, his phone had shorted out from the water, and there wasn’t a single piece of men’s clothing in her room. After searching in vain for her phone, he finally gave up.


    Eventually, he trudged downstairs in his wet suit and borrowed a phone from the clerk at the corner store to call Gregory, asking him to bring over some clean


    clothes.


    But as the minutes ticked by, Gregory was nowhere to be seen. Soren’s stomach started to grumble. He’d been on his way from the club to the vi to have dinner with Helena when he’d run into Evangeline. He certainly hadn’t nned for any of


    this.


    Annoyed and hungry, he rummaged through the fridge. There were a few groceries, a te of sautéed greens and shrimp wrapped in stic, and a bowl of packaged beef soup–leftovers from her lunch, most likely. The rest was just frozen ready–meals.


    Soren was notoriously picky. He didn’t eat takeout, wouldn’t touch microwave dinners, and certainly had no habit of finishing someone else’s leftovers.


    But after a few <i>more </i>minutes, hunger won out. He pulled out the cold food, heated it up, and took a bite. There was something about the vor–familiar, almost nostalgic.